bullyxtreme Chapter 103 The Battle of Cooks 10
Chapter 103 The Battle of Cooks 10
Chapter 103 The Battle of Cooks 10
All eyes were focused on the southwest area of the model.
Faced with the approach of 4,000 French troops to Lochsstadt, many officers frowned and speculated about the enemy's frontal assault tactics.
"No—" Dugan slowly shook his head, his tone resolute as he overturned everyone's thoughts. He lightly tapped the mark on Lochsstadt with his fingertip. "The French army has specifically drawn a quarter of their forces; it's definitely not just a simple frontal assault or a feint. They have other plans. Think about it again."
As soon as he finished speaking, Baron Ernest Longwater, a native of Hanover, took a few steps forward.
Compared to other officers who spent years fighting alongside the army, he grew up on this land and his familiarity with the surrounding swamps, lake embankments, and hills was unparalleled.
He strolled slowly around the huge sand table, his gaze repeatedly sweeping over the blue swamp markers across the entire southwestern wilderness, when suddenly it dawned on him.
Longwater stopped, his expression suddenly turning serious. He pointed to the light-colored areas scattered across the sand table: "For a long time, you've all had a misconception that this southwestern wasteland is all deep, treacherous muddy swamps, impossible for large armies to traverse. But look closely, you can see numerous raised, hard-bottomed islands scattered among the swamps."
He pointed to the isolated high ground: "These natural mounds are dry and firm, and they are not far apart from each other, like stepping stones scattered in a swamp. Small groups of people can pass through without any hindrance. If the engineers simply repair the road surface, even a whole unit of infantry or even light artillery can advance steadily along this line."
"Go on," Dugan said, his eyes lighting up, signaling him to continue his analysis.
With instructions, Langwater traced a winding line on the sand table with his fingertips, perfectly avoiding the wide main road and Locksstadt.
"If I were Bernadotte, I would never have sent these four thousand men to storm our heavily fortified positions. They used Loxstadt as a forward outpost, and under the cover of the swampy highlands, they evaded our cavalry patrols and reconnaissance, and moved northwards, with their final target being the village of Dosser, southwest of Cookes."
"Dose Village?"
Everyone knew perfectly well that Dorsey was not only the hometown of Hans, the inventor of the new barbed wire, but also the weakest point in the entire southwestern defense line.
The fortifications here are rudimentary, and the garrison is sparse. If the enemy breaks through, the French army can take advantage of the situation to cut into the heart of the defensive line and tear apart the painstakingly built defensive system, with unimaginable consequences.
Langwater continued his deduction: "The French only need to start from Bevelstätter, bypass Lochsstadt, and head west into Lochthhorn: then abandon the country dirt roads, move laterally along the reinforced dikes of Lake Stottler, and reach the abandoned Blexen border post; after a short rest, pass through the village of Leuer, and finally head straight for Dunnen, and they can reach the outskirts of the village of Dösser without any obstacles."
Longwater's speculation was like clearing away the fog, and all the Hanoverian officers present suddenly realized the truth.
Colonel Decken, having received the prompting, continued to add to the discussion.
"The advantages of this route are far greater than you might imagine," Deken said. "First of all, the entire swamp is shrouded in mist year-round, overgrown with vegetation, and its undulating terrain can completely conceal the army's flags, men, and artillery. Our hussars are accustomed to patrolling along the main roads and rarely venture deep into the complex heart of the swamp, making it difficult to detect lurking enemy troops in time."
"Secondly, the swamp itself is difficult to carry heavy supplies, but this route connects all the hard high ground and artificial lake embankments, and the road surface has sufficient load-bearing capacity. Infantry, mules, horses, and six-pound light field guns can all pass smoothly, which fully meets the marching needs of four thousand main forces."
"It's currently the rainy season in June," Deken added a crucial point, "The fog in this area is getting thicker every day, with visibility less than 50 meters most of the time, which adds a natural barrier to the enemy's covert marches."
Finally, he looked at the scattered village markers along the way and continued his analysis: "Moreover, the sparse settlements and low population density along this route have become an advantage. It is not easy for the enemy troops to be discovered by the local villagers when they pass through, which naturally cuts off the possibility of anyone tipping us off."
Just as the atmosphere in the room was becoming increasingly tense, Dugan suddenly chuckled, showing no concern whatsoever, but rather a hint of contempt in his laughter.
"Interesting." He toyed with the wooden baton in his hand, his gaze sweeping across the winding marching corridor on the sand table. "Bernadot thought he had figured out a secret route for a surprise attack, but in my opinion, he personally sent 4000 French soldiers to their deaths."
Dugan raised his hand, and with a heavy stroke of his baton along the French army's marching route, he circled the large blue swamp areas on both sides.
Then he turned to the officers and said, "Look, the entire marching route is essentially a series of isolated high-altitude islands. On both sides are vast peat bogs like the Stottler Marsh and the Praken Marsh, where the mud is so deep that it's difficult for even a person to stand, let alone deploy a large force for combat."
"This means that the French army advancing on this road has completely lost the ability to flank and outflank. The four thousand men can only be squeezed into this narrow, hard passage in the middle, advancing in one direction, and have become sitting ducks."
He further pointed out the passes, lake embankments, and narrow corridors along the route: "The entire route is dotted with narrow paths, lake embankments, and high passes, all of which are natural defensive positions. Our light infantry can rely on mounds, woodlands, and makeshift breastworks for cover and firing, making it entirely possible to achieve victory with fewer troops!"
At this point, Dugan turned to look at the light infantry commanders von Altien and Colin Halkert beside him, his tone turning serious as he began to formally issue combat orders.
"Your light infantry, equipped with Baker rifles, have a rate of fire and accuracy far superior to the French army's standard line flintlock muskets. The main force of the French army consists of traditional line infantry, who are best at forming dense line ranks and launching mass charges. But in this narrow corridor, they simply cannot deploy their formations, rendering their charge tactics ineffective."
"As for cavalry, the roads are narrow and the sides are swamps, making it difficult for warhorses to even turn around, let alone charge or break through."
Artillery was even more problematic; it was difficult to transport and its deployment in positions was limited.
The officers all nodded.
Dugan continued, "I don't need you to annihilate these four thousand French soldiers. You just need to hold them off at every turn, continuously wearing down their manpower. Rely on every pass and high ground along the way to set up defenses in sections, constantly striking at their morale and strength."
Finally, Dugan added, "Also, bring plenty of barbed wire. I guarantee it will come in very handy on this road."
Von Altin and Colin Halkert exchanged a glance, then simultaneously straightened up and raised their hands in a solemn salute.
"Yes, General!"
On the morning of May 28, 1804.
On the high ground east of Bevelstätter, four thousand French soldiers, fully equipped, officially broke camp and set off.
The thick fog that shrouded the entire southwestern wilderness did not dissipate; instead, it became even thicker as the midday humidity rose.
A hazy fog swallowed up the view, and the world was in chaos. The air was filled with the strange smells of swamp mud, stagnant water, and fermenting vegetation, making it stuffy, humid, and difficult to breathe.
This French force was under the full command of Brigadier General Louis de Lacourt.
Lacourt was over forty years old, born into an old French aristocracy, and had fought bravely alongside Napoleon in the Italian campaigns, boasting an impressive resume.
Before he left, Bernardo Silva gave him special instructions.
The swamp terrain is complex, so be sure to be wary of enemy ambushes.
But in Lacour's heart, he never took those mere eight thousand British men seriously.
The dangers of marching through the swamp were, in his eyes, nothing more than a slightly difficult shortcut that would allow him to avoid the fortified city on the front.
"The entire army was divided into two columns, advancing along the designated high ground route, with the supply trains moving in opposite directions, the scouts positioned in front, and the cavalry bringing up the rear."
Riding his tall steed, Lakul surveyed his vast army. "Speed up! We must cross the Stottler Lake dike before sunset!"
The military order was relayed through the ranks, and four thousand French soldiers stepped into this death corridor enveloped by swamps.
At the same time, at the Bleksen border post.
This border post is an old building that has been abandoned for many years. It used to be a stronghold of the Kingdom of Hanover for inspecting border merchants. After the French army occupied Hanover, it was abandoned and no one repaired it.
The dilapidated rammed earth wall is crumbling and uneven, the wooden watchtower is rotten and old, the walls are covered with slippery moss, and the surrounding area is overgrown with weeds. It stands alone at the throat of the lake dike of Lake Stottler.
This place is bordered by a lake to the left and a swamp to the right, with only a narrow road running through it, making it an ideal location for ambush warfare.
von Alten led the 1st German Light Infantry Battalion of more than 600 men to the site a day earlier than the French army, and immediately began to modify the defensive positions.
The soldiers cleared away the weeds around the perimeter, repaired the damaged rammed earth walls, and had someone dismantle the rolled-up barbed wire, fix it with wooden stakes, and lay it in layers at the narrowest part of the pass, with the sharp iron spikes facing outwards, blocking the entire passage.
600 light infantrymen equipped with Baker rifles, in groups of three to five, were dispersed and concealed among watchtowers, behind walls, and in the woodlands.
They didn't need to confront the enemy's charge head-on; they could simply use cover to fire accurately from a high vantage point.
After surveying the position, von Arten said with a smile, "The general is right. In this godforsaken place, line infantry are sitting ducks."
Time ticked by, and finally, amidst the thick fog, came the sounds of hurried, heavy footsteps, soldiers' shouts, and the grinding of carriage wheels against the mud.
A few minutes later, more than ten French soldiers dressed in dark blue uniforms and wearing tall military caps appeared at the end of the passage a hundred meters away from the Blexen outpost, passing through the thick fog.
The French corporal leading the vanguard instinctively raised his hand to check the road conditions ahead.
Several French scouts crouched low and slowly made their way forward. Suddenly, one of them tripped over something and fell to the ground.
Before the French scouts could even see what had tripped them, they heard a jingling sound coming from beneath their feet.
"Phew! I scared myself." The French scout got up and let out a long sigh of relief.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the other side, and a bullet struck the scout in the chest, causing a burst of blood.