The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 36

Chapter 36: Blood and Courage

“Six hundred and fifty men?” Volst immediately protested. “That’s my entire cavalry! You don’t have the authority to deploy them…”

Captain Dubois interrupted him with a faint smile. “Give me your cavalry, or face the Prussians alone.”

“No, don’t…” The commander of the Dutch forces waved his hand dejectedly. “The cavalry is yours to command. At a time like this, we cannot afford internal conflict.”

“An excellent decision!”

Dubois turned to the curly-haired French lieutenant beside him. “André, proceed with the original plan. How soon can you move out?”

André saluted smartly. “Yes, sir! My men are fully prepared and can move at any time. However, the Dutch cavalry may need a little more time.”

Dubois nodded. “They’re under your command now. Go teach them how to improve their efficiency.”

“Yes, sir!”

The cavalry lieutenant left, and Dubois turned to the Dutch officers in the command tent. “So, do we all now agree to launch a preemptive strike on the Prussian vanguard?”

The officers nodded silently.

“Excellent. Thank you, gentlemen.” Dubois stepped to the map, pointing to a position near the Cybele River. “Mr. Volst, please deploy the Hague Guards here.”

One Dutch officer grumbled, “There are no real guards anymore. They’re all just provincial militia.”

Dubois shrugged indifferently. “Fine, call them what you will. Regardless, they’ll join my artillery in a mixed formation here to intercept the Prussian vanguard.”

“And the ‘Free Corps’ will form a line 200 meters to the south to absorb the initial Prussian assault.”

The so-called “Free Corps” was a militia group formed by Dutch patriots, while the Hague Guards had been part of William V’s elite forces. The disparity in combat effectiveness was clear. However, these guards had participated in the exile of William V and were now firmly loyal to the States General.

One Dutch officer immediately objected. “You’re using the Free Corps as cannon fodder! Why don’t the French take the front line?”

Volst raised a hand to stop him. “Captain Dubois is right. Without veteran troops backing them up, the Free Corps would break and scatter at the first sight of the Prussians.”

Dubois remained composed. “The Free Corps won’t need to fight the Prussians to the death. Once engaged, they’ll fall back to the flanks. My concern is whether their training is sufficient to execute the maneuver without chaos.”

Volst straightened his posture and said gravely, “I will personally command the Free Corps.”

Dubois nodded and continued, “After that, we’ll proceed as follows…”

Under his pencil, the narrow area between the Cybele River and Lake Abcoude, no more than 2.5 kilometers wide, was soon marked with positions for the Dutch and French forces.

...

To the south of Amstelfein.

“Report!” A scout rode up to André, reined in his horse, and saluted. “The Prussians have been sighted 3 kilometers to the east—over 4,000 men, mostly infantry with some cavalry.”

André nodded. This was likely the Prussian vanguard. He immediately issued orders. “Move the entire force one kilometer westward, quietly and at a steady pace. Stay alert for Prussian scouts.”

“Yes, sir!”

André checked his pocket watch and then consulted the map. According to prior intelligence, the main Prussian force was 15 kilometers away, positioned downstream of the Cybele River. At their current pace, they could circle around the enemy by midday tomorrow.

As expected, by 2 p.m. the following day, scouts reported a large Prussian supply convoy guarded by over 3,000 troops.

André ordered his cavalry to form up on the western side of the Cybele River. Only then did he notice his palms were slick with sweat.

He had graduated from the military academy less than two years ago, and this was his first time commanding a battle. Nervousness was inevitable. Originally the deputy commander of the cavalry company, André had been thrust into leadership when the company commander fell ill with dysentery en route to the Netherlands and returned to France for treatment.

As he gazed at the plains and riverbanks in the distance, a wave of unease swept over him.

He wasn’t afraid to face the Prussians. Even though this was merely a harassing mission, he had confidence that his courage and blood could break the enemy ranks in a full confrontation.

Five days.

Even in death, he believed his sword would rest between his fallen body and the advancing Prussian army.

What troubled him was what would happen after those five days.

If the French volunteers and Dutch forces managed to stall the Prussians for five days, would they truly retreat? His uncle had privately revealed that this operation was devised by the Crown Prince—a mere thirteen-year-old child’s military plan...

André forced himself not to dwell on it. He wasn’t afraid of dying; a soldier’s destiny was to fall on the battlefield. What he feared was a meaningless death. Especially since he was in the Netherlands in a “private” capacity, if they failed to support the Patriots, the military might not even recognize his sacrifice as one made for France.

He could only hope that the so-called “Child of Providence” was as miraculous as the rumors claimed.

His thoughts were interrupted by the scout’s voice. “Report! The Prussian convoy is approaching.”

A sharp gleam flashed in André’s eyes. He raised his hand and commanded, “Attack!”

The French cavalry led the charge, followed by the former Dutch Guards, as they rushed toward the Prussian supply convoy.

Though still far away, the Prussians raised their shrill bugles, and masses of infantry quickly assembled. Backed by their wagons, they formed tight ranks with muskets and bayonets bristling toward the front.

Dust billowed and hooves thundered. From afar, André saw the dense ranks of Prussian soldiers. He raised his Charleville 1728 short carbine and fired a shot toward them.

The cavalry behind him followed suit, their gunfire erupting in a cacophony that filled the battlefield with smoke.

But at over 400 meters, the bullets were harmless.

Still, the sustained gunfire unnerved the Prussian commander. The cavalry numbered close to a thousand—it might be the main Dutch force.

After firing his shot, André led his cavalry into a sharp southern turn, galloping past the Prussian formation at a distance of over 300 meters.

The Prussian troops waited for over twenty minutes, their curses filling the air as no attack materialized. Just as they prepared to resume their march, another wave of cavalry struck from the rear, accompanied by volleys of musket fire.

The Prussian commander’s face darkened as he ordered his troops to form ranks again. But the cavalry merely circled their formation and withdrew.

With too few cavalry of their own, the Prussians were unable to pursue.

Thus, André’s cavalry struck repeatedly, forcing the Prussians into defensive formations. This continued until nightfall when the Prussian cavalry reinforcements finally arrived. Only then did André call off the harassment.

After letting his troops rest briefly in a nearby forest, André gave the order to move north under the cover of darkness, heading straight for the Prussian main force.

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