Chapter 175: The Probing Ends

The soldiers of the alert unit leaped up from behind the earthen bank, no longer hesitating in the slightest, turning and sprinting toward the Charleroi urban area.

Their faces were covered in gunpowder smoke and dirt. Many had wounds inflicted by sabers still bleeding, and every pair of eyes showed a mixture of fatigue and terror. But even in such a desperate state, this small unit did not lose formation.

They did not scatter like headless chickens but subconsciously maintained their combat formation. One squad would run and retreat while another provided covering fire for their comrades in the rear. This tactical discipline, ingrained through training, allowed them to maintain significant combat effectiveness even during their withdrawal.

The surviving Cuirassiers were dazed by the final round of grenades. By the time they recovered from the impact of the explosion, the Saxon soldiers had already opened up a distance of nearly a hundred meters.

Most Cuirassiers, in their dismounted charge, had dropped their heavy carbines beside their dead horses for the sake of speed, bringing only their sabers and pistols. Now, they could only watch helplessly as the enemy ran farther and farther away. Their revolvers posed no threat at a hundred meters. A few enraged Cuirassiers pursued futilely for a few steps, but two legs could not outrun the enemy providing covering fire. They were quickly dropped to the ground by several accurate rifle shots to the head.

On the other side, the 3rd Company’s 2nd Platoon, responsible for flank support on the slope, immediately began to move once they saw their comrades retreating. This platoon also faced immense pressure. Although the Cuirassier Squadron charging them had suffered heavy casualties and nearly all their horses were killed by the platoon’s interdicting fire, dozens of cavalrymen still managed to rush forward, protected by their Enchanted Cuirasses.

The 2nd Platoon Leader commanded his soldiers to utilize the terrain’s undulations to engage the enemy in close-quarters skirmishing. Continuously thrown hand grenades and submachine gun fire targeting below the torso proved to be the most effective way to deal with these Cuirassiers. After suffering over ten casualties, they relied on automatic weapons to brutally bring down the charging Cuirassiers—most of whom were hit in the groin and legs, losing their ability to move.

“First and Second Squads cover! The other two squads fall back!” the 2nd Platoon Leader shouted the command. After confirming that the distant alert unit had also escaped danger, he immediately organized his unit, using alternating cover to contract toward the urban area.

From a distance, the entire battlefield was a chaotic mess. The field southeast of Charleroi had been turned into a massive slaughterhouse. Warhorse corpses were strewn everywhere. Black blood saturated the earth, giving off a thick,腥 stench. Over a hundred bodies wearing blue cavalry uniforms and shining Cuirasses lay scattered across the fields, in the ruins of the village, and on the riverbank.

Although the two platoons of the Instruction Assault Battalion ultimately managed to escape from this almost-formed massive encirclement, the casualties they suffered were significant. The alert unit, in particular, only had just over 20 men who successfully ran back into the urban area.

“Huff… Huff…”

The Sergeant in command of the alert unit finally collapsed onto the ground once he ran into the main defensive position on the edge of the urban area and saw the familiar faces and set-up Heavy Machine Gun fire points. He leaned against a broken wall, gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling violently like a bellows. He instinctively felt the magazine pouch on his chest harness—it was empty. He checked his backpack for spare magazines—they were also mostly empty. The brief but fierce battle just now had consumed almost all the ammunition he carried.

He looked up at his comrades running past him, every one of them looking as exhausted as he was, but in the eyes of these survivors, there was an added quality—a look that only comes after being baptized by blood and fire.

As the smoke from the artillery barrage gradually cleared, Captain Léo managed to gather his surviving subordinates from the scene of devastation. His Second Dragoon Squadron had suffered nearly one-third casualties in the brief, fierce shelling. The remaining men were mostly wounded, covered in dust, and their morale was severely low.

Captain Léo’s heart was bleeding. These were skilled cavalrymen, trained extensively, the elite of the Gallic Army’s cavalry forces, yet they had been cut down in swathes in this inexplicable battle.

He led his remnants carefully out of the village, which resembled a hellscape. Raising his binoculars, he looked at the main battlefield in the distance. The sight made Captain Léo gasp.

The once-proud Cuirassiers were now fleeing toward the assembly area, having lost their horses and their commander. They looked lost and helpless, like a flock of scattered sheep. The three squadrons of the entire 4th Cuirassier Regiment were practically crippled. The scattered warhorse corpses and shining Cuirasses silently recounted the brutality of the recent charge.

The surviving Gallic Cavalry ultimately bypassed the engagement area and retreated back to the cornfield where they had started. The cavalrymen gathered in small groups, their faces etched with confusion and terror. Their formations were completely broken, and many couldn’t even find their commanders.

Léo found Captain Marchand and Captain Lafontaine, who were equally battered. The Dragoon Squadrons they commanded had also suffered heavy casualties after being hit by the artillery fire while preparing to charge.

“Where is Colonel Molière?” Léo’s voice was hoarse.

Captain Marchand silently shook his head. That proud, reckless man had ultimately paid the heaviest price for his arrogance with his life.

“We… we lost,” Captain Lafontaine said listlessly. He couldn’t believe that six squadrons of elite Gallic Cavalry had been so miserably routed without even reaching the enemy’s main position.

“No, we didn’t lose; we ran into an iron wall.” Captain Léo’s eyes were intensely serious. He finally understood why that limping old veteran had said there was a Saxon division in the city. That kind of automatic firepower, like a thunderstorm, combined with the lightning-fast, accurately placed artillery support, was definitely not the capability of a small unit!

Colonel Molière’s arrogance had turned what should have been a cautious Combat Reconnaissance into an outright disaster, against which his Cuirassiers had dashed themselves to pieces.

Léo sent men to conduct a quick casualty count, and the result sent a chill through him. The three Cuirassier Squadrons—four hundred and fifty men—had suffered over fifty percent casualties, and their warhorses were virtually wiped out. They had completely lost their combat effectiveness as cavalry. The three Dragoon Squadrons, while in slightly better shape, having avoided the machine gun fire, still suffered over a hundred casualties from the shelling.

“We must immediately retreat and report the situation here to the Division Headquarters and the General!” Captain Léo, who had become the commander of the surviving cavalry, decided instantly.

He knew there was no point in staying any longer. The Saxons had used bloody facts to tell them that Charleroi was not a place to be lightly approached. It was like an Iron Behemoth that had opened its jaws, waiting for the next prey to challenge it.

“Dispatch Rider!” Léo roared at a relatively composed soldier beside him. “Immediately return to Division Headquarters! Tell the General that the enemy firepower in Charleroi far exceeds imagination! They possess an astonishing number of automatic weapons and rapid-response artillery! Our unit was heavily damaged during the Combat Reconnaissance, and Colonel Molière was killed in action! Request further instructions!”

The Dispatch Rider dared not delay, immediately mounting a horse in relatively good condition, and galloped off toward the rear without looking back. Léo watched his retreating figure, then looked back at the city, which appeared eerily quiet in the morning light. A thought flashed through his mind…

This war, starting today, was going to be completely different from what any of them had imagined.

As the Dispatch Rider brought the battle report back, everyone in the Gallic Third Cavalry Division’s temporary headquarters was stunned. The Division Commander of the Third Cavalry Division stared at the map on the field table, his face solemn, the Dispatch Rider’s report still echoing in his ears.

“Colonel Molière killed in action… 4th Cuirassier Regiment suffered over half casualties, warhorses almost completely annihilated… Dragoon units suffered over a hundred casualties…”

One shocking phrase after another hammered heavily into the hearts of everyone in the headquarters. This was no longer ‘heavy loss’; this was an outright, complete defeat! Six squadrons of elite cavalry, including three squadrons of Cuirassiers who were the core of the assault, were nearly wiped out in a small ‘Combat Reconnaissance’!

“The enemy possesses an astonishing number of automatic weapons… Unprecedented density of fire… Capable of organizing accurate artillery fire saturation within just ten minutes…”

The Division Commander’s face grew darker and darker. He finally realized that what they were facing was not some ‘small harassment unit’ at all. The Saxon unit in Charleroi City was a well-trained, well-equipped elite force! They had turned the edge of the city into a meticulously prepared death trap. Molière’s recklessness and arrogance had led his Cuirassiers to charge headfirst into it, smashing themselves to pieces.

“Idiot! A complete and utter idiot!” The Division Commander cursed under his breath, unclear whether he was cursing Molière or cursing himself for sending them to their deaths.

He knew clearly that attacking Charleroi again with only cavalry forces was no different from suicide. This was only in the open ground outside the city—their domain where the cavalry held every advantage—yet they had been defeated so badly. If they entered the city… The Commander of the Third Cavalry Division dared not contemplate the consequences.

“Immediately! Report all details exactly as they are to the Army Group Command Post!” the Division Commander ordered his Chief of Staff. “Include my recommendation—the attack on Charleroi must utilize large numbers of infantry advancing under artillery cover! Any form of cavalry charge is simply throwing away lives!”

(End of this Chapter)

You can support the translator and get advanced chapter by join his patreon at https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair

Check another translation project:
Title: The Golden Family Rises, Starting from the Western Regions. The webnovel tell a youth named Li Xiao rises from the Western Regions, forges an unprecedented iron-cavalry empire through steel, cannons, and conquest, defeats Mongols, Jurchens, Rus, South Asians, and Crusaders alike, and establishes the largest territorial empire in human history in the name of Yan and Huang.