Chapter 190: Cavalry! Cavalry!

The bloody battle that lasted the entire day yesterday left thousands of corpses on the streets of South Charleroi.

The temperature in Charleroi in August was not low; the daytime high could even reach over thirty degrees Celsius. The earliest bodies to fall yesterday morning had now been lying there for over twenty-four hours.

At such temperatures, the intestinal flora within the bodies had begun to cause decay. Now, these uncollected corpses were simultaneously unleashing their final weapon against both the attacking and defending sides—the stench of putrefaction.

Since a true World War had not yet erupted in this world, and gas warfare had not yet entered the historical stage, neither the Saxon Empire nor the Gallic Republic’s armies had been issued equipment like gas masks. Faced with this pure, additive-free ‘biological attack,’ the soldiers of both sides were largely helpless.

The situation was slightly better for the Instruction Assault Battalion. They were the defending force, spending most of their time behind buildings and fortifications. Furthermore, their defense line had significant depth, allowing them to dilute the stench by simply covering their mouths and noses or by sprinkling water and burning some materials on their positions.

But for the attacking Gauls, this became a veritable torment. At the Ninth Division’s temporary position outside the city, the soldiers were pale-faced and listless. The foul stench wafting from the city made them unable to eat and unable to sleep.

“General, the soldiers’ condition is very poor.” News from the front quickly reached General Fournier. A staff officer reported to him: “Many have been unable to eat since the morning and have been vomiting. Morale is… very low.”

After hearing the report, General Fournier faced an extremely awkward predicament. If he wanted to continue the assault, his soldiers would first have to advance through the streets that had begun to emit a thick, putrid odor, and then climb over the low walls piled high with the decomposing corpses of their own comrades. This destructive assault on their sight, smell, and psyche was enough to completely break even the most determined unit. He had no doubt that if he ordered an attack now, his own troops might mutiny before the Saxons even opened fire.

But simply holding their position like this was not a solution either. The Saxons in the city could rest and sustain themselves until their main force arrived. Time was not on the Gauls’ side.

“When will the reinforcements sent by the Corps Headquarters arrive?” General Fournier asked hoarsely, rubbing his aching temples.

“Reporting, General, the Third Corps sent a reply saying they have ordered the 11th Division to move toward us. They are expected to arrive this afternoon… They are also coordinating other infantry divisions, but that may take longer,” the Chief of Staff replied.

General Fournier pondered for a moment, then finally made a decision.

“Suspend all offensive actions this morning. Wait for reinforcements to arrive…”

“Also, organize men and find a way—a way to bring back the bodies of our men in the city,” he added with difficulty. This was an almost impossible task. The Saxons in the city would not simply watch them send men in to retrieve bodies.

But as a Division Commander, he had to make this gesture.

After the Gauls halted their offensive, South Charleroi remained eerily calm throughout the morning. Aside from the occasional stray shot, there was no sound of concentrated fire.

Morin, meanwhile, noticed a new change on the system map. Just about twelve kilometers north of Charleroi City, a blue unit token representing a friendly force suddenly lit up near a riverbank. Morin zoomed in on the map, and the information on the token clearly appeared before his eyes.

[Saxon Empire Army, Third Army Group, First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division]

“Holy cow, they finally arrived…”

Before long, a small detachment from this cavalry division arrived in North Charleroi. The sentry post in the North City reported to the Battalion Headquarters that several cavalrymen, identifying themselves as belonging to the Third Army Group’s First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division, wanted to enter the city to see Morin.

Having finally received the long-awaited friendly forces, Morin naturally did not keep them waiting. After verifying their identities, he allowed them to enter.

A few minutes later, three officers in Saxon Imperial Guards Cavalry uniforms, led by an Instruction Assault Battalion soldier, walked into the temporary command post. They were all tall and straight, with resolute faces, exuding a sharp, capable aura.

The leader, a Captain, immediately snapped his heels together and rendered an impeccable salute to Morin.

“Captain Morin, on behalf of General Ernst von Hoeppner, Commander of the First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division, I extend the highest salute to you and the valiant Instruction Assault Battalion!” His voice was loud and forceful, carrying a hint of pride.

“Welcome, brave warriors of the First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division.” Morin returned the salute, a sincere, welcoming smile on his face.

“Your arrival is more encouraging than anything else to us.”

He gestured for the three to sit down, then asked directly: “Captain, how did your division manage to get here so quickly? To my knowledge, the main force of the Third Army Group should still be near Dinant.”

The Captain nodded, took a map from his satchel, and spread it on the table.

“Captain Morin, the situation is this: our battle in the Dinant sector was essentially concluded by yesterday evening. The main force of the Gallic Fourth Army Group was successfully defeated by our army and is currently retreating south.”

“The Third Army Group main force has begun pursuit and is preparing to link up with the Fifth Army Group, which is advancing west, to annihilate this portion of the Gallic army east of the Meuse River.”

His finger moved rapidly across the map, clearly explaining the macro situation in the entire theater of operations. Morin, Kleist, and Manstein all leaned in, listening intently.

“Upon learning that your unit successfully raided and occupied Charleroi but might be facing the assault of the Gallic Fifth Army Group, the Army Group Command immediately ordered our division to detach from the main force and rush here in support.”

“After receiving the order, our division immediately force-marched toward Charleroi. Just moments ago, we successfully found a suitable crossing point on the Sambre River upstream, about twelve kilometers from here, and completed the entire division’s river crossing operation.”

Hearing this, Morin gained a new appreciation for the execution capability of this Imperial Guards Cavalry Division. Completing a long-distance forced march and a division-level river crossing in such a short time meant their mobility and efficiency were already outstanding for this era.

“So, what is General Hoeppner’s plan?” Morin asked, as this was the question he cared about most.

A smile of aggression appeared on the Captain’s face. He pointed a finger heavily at the vast plains south of Charleroi.

“Our General’s plan is simple: after crossing the river, the First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division will immediately launch a harassment attack on the flank of the Gallic Republic forces besieging Charleroi.”

“We will continuously bite and tear at them like a pack of wolves, giving them no peace and preventing them from launching a full-strength siege.”

“Once a favorable opportunity arises, or their formation falls into disarray, our division will not hesitate to launch a decisive, large-scale charge, completely routing them from the flank and rear!” The Captain’s tone was filled with immense confidence. In his eyes, the Gallic infantry besieging Charleroi were nothing more than lambs waiting to be slaughtered.

However, after hearing his plan, Morin’s optimism faded. His smile gradually disappeared, replaced by a look of gravity.

“Captain, with all due respect, don’t you think this plan is overly risky?” Morin’s words instantly made the atmosphere in the command room subtle. The smile on the Captain’s face froze, and he looked at Morin with some confusion.

“Risky? Captain Morin, I don’t understand your meaning… We are cavalry. Isn’t it our duty to deal with those slow-moving infantry in open terrain?”

“No, you misunderstand my concern.” Morin shook his head, knowing the other party likely felt he was questioning the combat effectiveness of the Imperial Guards Cavalry Division. He pointed at the map, patiently explaining:

“I am not worried about your combat effectiveness; I am worried that by crossing the Sambre River, you have isolated yourselves.”

“The Sambre River is at your back, and you have no friendly forces to rely on. If the battle turns unfavorable, you have no route of retreat.”

“And…” Morin emphasized, speaking earnestly: “Based on our experience engaging the Gauls these past two days, their fighting will is extremely tenacious. Furthermore, the main force of the entire Gallic Fifth Army Group is moving toward this direction. They could send reinforcements, or even their own cavalry forces, to deal with you at any moment.”

“Once you are pinned down by an enemy cavalry force of equal or even larger scale, the consequences will be unimaginable.”

Morin knew clearly how fragile cavalry could be against a modern army with a comprehensive support system. Especially when operating alone and deep behind enemy lines without infantry-artillery coordination, they could easily be annihilated if the battle turned sour.

The Captain fell silent. Although he had absolute confidence in his own unit, he had to admit that Morin’s concerns were objectively valid.

“Captain Morin, our division headquarters considered your concerns when formulating the plan.” He paused for a moment before offering his defense: “But we have no choice. Your unit’s situation is extremely perilous, and as fellow Imperial Guards, we must relieve you as quickly as possible. Therefore, a certain degree of risk must be taken.”

“Moreover, we believe that the striking power of the First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division is sufficient to resolve the current enemy before any Gallic reinforcements can arrive.”

Looking at the still-confident look in the Captain’s eyes, Morin knew that saying anything more would be pointless. These traditional, old-era officers were inherently filled with a knightly spirit of adventure and a thirst for glory. Asking them to back down would probably be more painful than killing them.

(End of this Chapter)

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