Chapter 801: The Inevitable Outcome
The Austrian cavalry couldn't understand English, so they didn't feel much about it, but the British cavalry officers were instantly furious.
Most of them were of noble birth—when had they ever endured such humiliation from those North American riffraff?
Two red-faced British cavalry captains glared angrily and swung their sabers, charging straight at the Americans.
Seeing this, the other British cavaliers cursed and followed suit. Their commander couldn't stop them. Hearing the crude American insults ringing in his ears, he lost his temper as well and ordered an all-out charge against the American infantry.
The Austrian cavalry was stunned.
Their mission was to destroy the French artillery—what on earth were these British doing?
The Austrian commander saw that his own small force could not possibly break through the French gun lines and, after a moment's hesitation, ordered a retreat.
Indeed, while British infantry were famous for their discipline and endurance, British cavalry were notorious for their freedom and recklessness.
Historically, the Duke of Wellington had complained countless times that his cavalry never obeyed orders and would always chase too far once engaged, often getting annihilated deep within enemy lines.
And now, the British horsemen were once again proving their terrible discipline with their actions.
Over 1,500 furious cavalrymen charged toward the Americans, who quickly ran behind the slope for cover.
Then, suddenly, the beat of war drums erupted—Murat led 500 horsemen charging out from the British flank and rear.
It was clearly a premeditated ambush.
After their exhausting sprint, the British horses and riders were already drained. The sudden attack from behind terrified them. They tried to form a defense but could not muster the strength.
Meanwhile, shells occasionally rained down among them from afar.
When Murat slashed down his first enemy, the British cavalry immediately fell into chaos.
Murat, thrilled, shouted as he gave chase, hacking at their backs like a pack of wolves driving terrified sheep.
The British, who had already spent too much of their horses' strength earlier, could barely even flee now. Within moments, five or six hundred of them were caught by Murat and forced to dismount and surrender.
The Duke of York stared grimly as the coalition artillery halfway through deployment came under French bombardment and anxiously retreated. Enraged, he struck the ground hard with his cane.
In truth, even if his artillery had reached its designated position, it would have been difficult to threaten the French much.
After all, the reverse-slope defense tactic was originally devised to counter Napoleon's devastating artillery.
With troops stationed just behind the ridge, they could instantly take cover from shelling by simply stepping a few paces back behind the slope.
Even in the 21st century, this tactic remained an effective method to resist artillery fire—guided shells could barely hit troops hidden behind slopes, let alone those old smoothbore cannons.
Under the Duke of York's orders, the coalition infantry launched another attack. They didn't even advance as far as they had three days earlier before being driven back by musket fire from the ridge.
That afternoon, inside the coalition command tent, the Duke of York frowned at the silent group of senior officers before him. A wave of helplessness washed over him.
He couldn't understand it—why, despite his overwhelming advantage in numbers, had two consecutive offensives both failed miserably?
He sighed, muttered "Attack again in three days," and left the tent with a scowl.
While the coalition remained helpless against Joseph's reinforced reverse-slope defenses, Major General Gaillard was leading the Walloon Defense Army in relentless assaults on Brussels.
The Walloon soldiers charged red-eyed at the Dutch defense line as if possessed.
After all, this was a battle to claim territory for Wallonia!
If they captured Brussels, Wallonia's entire economy would soar.
Furthermore, nearly every Southern Netherlander dreamed of settling in Brussels—and Joseph had promised that any soldier who distinguished himself would receive a property in the city as a reward.
It was no wonder the Walloon troops fought like madmen.
In contrast, the Dutch defenders looked utterly dispirited.
Brussels was Austrian territory—why should they risk their lives fighting here?
Moreover, the Flemish citizens inside the city were restless.
Willem Wegher van Teyn had, a month and a half earlier, secretly gathered influential Flemish politicians to promote a Flemish independence movement from Austria.
These men controlled almost every aspect of Brussels. Thanks to their interference, the Dutch soldiers constantly found their weapons missing, supplies delayed, and even their barracks mysteriously set on fire.
Morale among the Dutch deteriorated rapidly.
If not for Davydovich's personal prestige, they would have surrendered the city already.
But soon, news arrived that the Anglo-Prussian-Austrian coalition had been defeated at Mechelen.
In truth, the Duke of York wasn't exactly defeated—his forces were merely at a disadvantage and locked in a stalemate.
However, after the Flemish independence movement edited and published the story in local newspapers, panic swiftly spread among the Dutch troops.
Indeed, the largest newspapers in Brussels were owned by independence supporters.
Even Davydovich's declaration of martial law couldn't stop the unrest.
Three mornings later, while the Dutch soldiers were dozing, a dozen Brussels citizens quietly opened the eastern gate, and Gaillard's army stormed into the city.
By noon, the fighting was almost over.
The Dutch army offered little resistance. Apart from Davydovich and a few officers who briefly held out at the east gate, the Walloon Defense Army easily took control of the entire city.
...
Eastern Brussels.
Leuven.
Schiack glanced back at the thousands of troops behind him, feeling both nervous and excited.
He had never imagined that the French crown prince would truly entrust him with commanding the Flemish Legion in battle.
Oh, and His Highness had even promoted him—he was now Brigadier General Schiack.
The prince had also promised that once the Flemish Republic was established, Schiack would become Vice President or Speaker of the Assembly.
But soon, anxiety crept over his face again.
He didn't actually know how to fight. His previous rank as lieutenant colonel had been bought with money.
Now, how was he supposed to capture Leuven?
Although there were only 2,000 Austrian defenders in the city, and he commanded 4,000 Flemish defectors, he had no idea where or how to begin the assault.
Of course, Joseph never actually expected him to capture Leuven.
He only needed Schiack to "prove his loyalty."
Joseph needed a controllable political faction within the future Flemish Republic. Van Teyn was clearly strong-willed and would not be easy to control.
But Schiack was perfect—greedy, base, shameless, and lacking any real backing. He would have no choice but to rely entirely on Joseph.
As long as Schiack's forces clashed with the Austrians, no matter the outcome, the Flemish would become irreconcilable enemies with Austria.
With Van Teyn fanning the flames politically, Flemish independence would be inevitable.
(END CHAPTER)
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