The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 116

Chapter 116: A New Tactic

Because the princess of the Two Sicilies was coming to Paris for a visit, the French Guard, as the garrison of Paris, naturally had to take on the responsibility of escorting her along the way.

The commander of the French Guard, Bessonval, became the busiest person.

He had to ensure that every officer and soldier was fully aware of every step of the reception, the vigilance along the way, and the escort procedure before the princess's arrival.

Such a task could not afford a single mistake. So, he had to personally supervise the troops and repeatedly rehearse the entire reception and escort process along the pre-set route that the princess would take, until he was confident everything was in order.

As he thought about it, he realized that the Grand Duchess of Tuscany was also coming soon, and he immediately felt a headache.

The French Guard formed three columns and marched briskly along a small road on the outskirts of Paris. Just as they were about to reach the designated reception area, a sudden loud explosion came from the southwest. The advancing columns stopped abruptly, like rabbits startled by a loud noise.

Bessonval frowned. He could tell it was the sound of cannon fire.

What kind of place is this to have cannon fire?

As if in response to his question, another loud boom came from the distance.

The soldiers of the French Guard immediately unslung their muskets and looked around, on high alert for any potential attackers.

Bessonval made a hand signal to the officer next to him. The officer immediately sent two cavalrymen to scout in the direction of the cannon fire.

After more than ten minutes, the cavalry returned, pulling their horses to a stop and reporting loudly,
“Report, it’s the Paris Police Academy conducting artillery training!”

“The Paris Police Academy? Artillery training!” Bessonval couldn’t immediately make the connection between these two things. He asked in confusion, “Isn’t the Paris Police Academy located in the Saint-Antoine district?”

“General, they say this is their training ground.”

Bessonval couldn’t help narrowing his eyes. As the commander of the Paris garrison, he didn’t know that there was a training ground equipped with artillery in the southern suburbs of Paris!

It wasn’t entirely his fault, though. With the information infrastructure of this time, unless someone was specifically sent to investigate, it wasn’t uncommon for two armies to pass within ten kilometers of each other without noticing.

There couldn’t be any enemy forces around Paris, so the French Guard had no reason to patrol the area.

Thus, the police academy’s training base had been in use for a month and a half, and they hadn’t discovered it until now, when they happened to be passing through on their way to familiarize themselves with the princess's reception route.

Bessonval paused, thought for a moment, then ordered the officer beside him, “Pass the order, rest in place. We’ll go take a look.”

...

At the Paris Police Academy training base.

Berthier stood in shock as he watched nearly two hundred police officers, following the rhythm of the drumbeat, skillfully form into infantry ranks. Meanwhile, orderlies shouted, “Maintain the formation!” as they galloped past the front of the line.

To the left of the formation were two four-pound cannons.

On the opposite side, more than a hundred police officers with white armbands stood.

The “White Team” seemed to lack training. Only two-thirds of the officers had formed two thin lines, while the remaining third were scattered in front of the lines, closing in on the opposing defense.

Berthier, following his instincts as a soldier, shook his head and said to Dubois, “If they don’t get their formation in order, they’re going to be overwhelmed.”

Dubois, however, smiled and shook his head. “Alexandre, their formation is perfectly fine.”

“Formation?” Berthier frowned. “Where’s the formation in the ‘White Team’? This is clearly a case of officers failing to maintain control over their men.”

Suddenly, he felt something was wrong.

Although the “White Team” appeared messy, the scattered officers in front of the line were maintaining the same pace, seemingly forming a barrier in front of the infantry lines.

Then, the cannons of the “Blue Team” roared. Of course, this was just a drill, and no ammunition had been loaded.

The instructors in charge of assessing casualties quickly made their judgments. One of them told his assistant two numbers, who then signaled to the drill by flag, indicating that the cannonballs had passed through the scattered ranks of the “White Team,” causing only 2 deaths and 4 injuries.

“They’re sending themselves to their deaths. I think they need more training,” Berthier couldn’t help shaking his head.

“Please be patient,” Dubois calmly reminded him.

After the “Blue Team’s” cannons roared two more times, the “White Team” began to change.

The drumbeat quickened, and the disorganized officers in the front of the formation suddenly shouted:

“Charge!”

“Break through the enemy lines!”

“Don’t be afraid, charge!”

The seemingly chaotic formation began to run. The “Blue Team” immediately responded with a volley of flintlock fire.

However, because the “White Team” was so scattered, the fire only caused limited damage. More than three-quarters of the “White Team” officers reached a distance of only thirty meters from the “Blue Team’s” infantry line.

“Stop advancing!” At the command of the “White Team’s” officers, dozens of officers stopped at the same time, raising their flintlocks.

“Fire!”

A cloud of smoke rose from the scattered formation. The close-range volley instantly caused the “Blue Team” to lose seven or eight men.

Just as the “White Team” began reloading, the “Blue Team” fired another volley in retaliation, resulting in 3 deaths and 6 injuries among the “White Team” who had just charged in.

While the “Blue Team” infantry was engaged in a struggle with these disorganized opponents, the infantry of the “White Team” had quietly advanced to within fifty meters of the “Blue Team.”

Suddenly, the scattered “White Team” officers withdrew, quickly “blending” into their own infantry formation.

Then, the officers in the “White Team” formation raised their muskets, while the “Blue Team” was still disorganized from the previous firefight.

“Fire!”

The neatly formed “White Team” fired a volley, and the “Blue Team’s” formation grew even more chaotic.

In infantry battles, the side with the more organized formation and uniform firing cadence will have the upper hand.

The “Blue Team,” under continuous fire from the “White Team,” had more and more gaps in their ranks and, after suffering casualties of one-third, was judged to have lost by the evaluators.

Berthier turned to look at Dubois, his face full of disbelief—how did the “White Team,” with their disorganized formation, win? They even had slightly fewer people than the “Blue Team!”

Since the first day he attended military school, he had been taught, “Infantry formations must remain organized. If they get disorganized, it’s better to stop firing and reorganize first.”

He was sure the drill had been conducted properly, without any favoritism, but why did the disorganized side win?

Dubois explained to him, “This is called the ‘Loose Skirmisher Tactics,’ invented by His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.”

“Loose Skirmishers? That’s impossible…” Berthier raised his eyebrows in disbelief. The Austrians often used skirmishers, but that was for mountain warfare. He’d never heard of using it to break through an organized infantry line.

Joseph, who had been watching the drill from the front, felt a little embarrassed. He thought, “This is the tactic the Prince invented, I’m just copying and pasting it.”

However, he turned to Berthier with a sly fox-like smile, “Major Berthier, if you want to learn more about this tactic, you’re always welcome to visit the Paris Police Academy. Oh, there are many other new tactics here that you might find interesting.”

...

When Bessonval saw the walls of the Paris Police Academy training base from a distance, he was stopped by several people in police uniforms, “Police academy training, no entry!”

A cavalry officer rode forward and arrogantly said, “This is General Bessonval, commander of the French Guard. Who’s in charge here? Bring him over.”

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