Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Chapter 444: Chapter 358: The Collapse of Charles II

"Please convey to Mr. Weng Ke that France remains steadfast in its support of the founding of the Southern Netherlands,” Joseph said with a smile, gesturing towards Viscount Flotte, “Just as he has anticipated, our army is indeed in pursuit of the Dutch forces.”

"Oh, and thank you for bringing the oats and the precious intelligence.”

"It is my honor to serve you and your grand army,” Viscount Flotte replied, his face beaming with compliments before he bowed and exited the tent, never suspecting why the French Army would come to Ghent to chase the Dutch Army.

Indeed, he had just brought over a dozen carts of oats. This was extremely valuable feed for the warhorses, as well as news that the Hanoverian Army had turned south near Brussels.

As a South Netherlander born in Zwevegem, who had spoken French since childhood and always longed for the French way of life, he had been hoping that the Walloon Region could be annexed by France. Then he could become a genuine French person.

So, upon learning that the great French army was nearby—his serfs had told him this when they tried to repay their debts with French banknotes—he immediately brought oats and wine personally to “support the troops.”

Of course, for someone as wealthy as he was, Joseph did not pay the “goods fee.” It was believed Viscount Flotte wouldn’t miss a livres or two.

With this batch of oats, the Guard Corps would be able to reduce the time needed for local foraging and accelerate the march even further.

In reality, since arriving in the southern part of the Southern Netherlands, such “heaven-sent supplies” had been flowing continuously, to the point that there was even an abundance of wine they could no longer carry.

After the South Netherlander noble had left, Bertier immediately turned to the Crown Prince, “Your Highness, if the intelligence brought by this gentleman is accurate, we must place our hopes on Major Mason taking action.”

He approached the map on the table, pointing to the south of Brussels, “The presence of enemy troops from the town of Gialli to the Town of Waterloo indicates that their marching column is at least six kilometers long.”

The staff officer at his side promptly added, “This may be a good opportunity for us to launch an attack!”

Joseph also looked at the map but hesitated. The Cavalry Scouts had not yet returned with specific details of the enemy situation, and he was still quite distant from the Hanoverian forces. Rushing there for a decisive battle still carried considerable uncertainty.

Suddenly, he pointed his hand at Antonov on the map and smiled, “Let’s take another trip back!”

…

East of Brussels, Major Mason grabbed a Cavalry Scout coming to report on the enemy situation, his eyes shining with excitement, “Are you sure? The Dutch are still near Waterloo?”

"Yes, Major, I saw with my own eyes the Dutch Cannons and a large number of tents,” the scout confirmed.

Another scout piped up, “We also heard the town shoemaker say that he was still conducting business within the Dutch camp yesterday afternoon, whilst the Hanoverian Army had already started moving south.”

"Excellent!” Mason griped the hilt of his sword at his waist tightly. There was at least half a day’s gap in the march between the Dutch and Hanoverian Armies, presenting a perfect opportunity for implementing the “flanking” tactic that the Crown Prince had explained.

He waved towards the orderly officer, “Order the entire army to urgently march towards Waterloo, immediately!”

"Yes, Major!”

A few hours later.

General Bronckhorst glanced at the dispirited marching column beside him and shook his head with a hint of resignation. Anyone would feel weary after traveling back and forth three times in less than a week. ℞àΝộΒĚș

He was about to give a speech to boost morale when he saw several Cavalry Scouts racing towards them in a panic, shouting from a distance, “Report! General, the enemy has been spotted to the northeast, less than 3 kilometers away!”

General Bronckhorst frowned. He knew that a French Army unit had been lingering nearby, and Marshal Charles II had even sent Cavalry to drive them away. However, those French people had always kept their distance, seemingly only responsible for scouting, so they hadn’t paid much attention to them.

He asked the Cavalry Scout, “Is it the same French unit as before?”

"It seems to be them,” the Cavalry Scout nodded, hurrying to add, “But this time there are more of them, probably over a thousand.”

Bronckhorst felt as uncomfortable as if he had swallowed a fly. Over a thousand enemy troops definitely could not be ignored, but his march had already been slow, and with this delay, he feared he would fall even further behind Marshal Charles II.

He ordered his staff in irritation, “Halt the entire army’s advance, form up in the open ground south of the town to meet the enemy!”

"Yes, General!”

The French Army moved much faster than Bronckhorst had anticipated. In less than an hour, French skirmishers began assaulting the Dutch supply wagons.

He immediately ordered the infantry to squeeze the French’s space to the west, but the latter didn’t intend to engage in battle at all. Taking advantage of the chaos, they launched a counterattack on the Dutch vanguard, killed sixty or seventy men, and then fled southwest without looking back.

Bronckhorst was initially worried about a French ambush, and waited several hours in strict formation before finally confirming that the enemy had indeed left.

He angrily sent Cavalry to pursue but encountered the French infantry lines that had been ready for them, and was forced to hastily retreat.

Bronckhorst then commanded his men to tally the losses. Learning that casualties were just under a hundred, and aside from losing some food and tents, he breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He glanced at his pocket watch. After all the commotion, it was nearly 5 p.m.

He then looked at the soldiers who had been standing in line the whole day and reluctantly ordered the entire army to return to the Town of Waterloo to rest and regroup, planning to continue on to Liege at noon the next day.

On the other hand, Charles II, who was marching urgently, felt a bad premonition upon hearing that the Dutch Army had been ambushed by the French—although Bronckhorst reported only a thousand French troops, who knew if that was merely the vanguard.

After lengthy discussions with his staff, he prudently decided to send one infantry regiment and three squadrons of Cavalry to Waterloo to support the Dutch.

As long as his main force could join up with Blucher, they would certainly have more than enough strength; dispatching fewer than two thousand men would hardly have any impact.

Less than half a day after Charles II sent the reinforcements, bad news came from the direction of Brussels—The French Army had suddenly changed direction and headed back toward Antonov.

For a moment, Charles II was tempted to march directly to Liege, disregarding everything to first annihilate Rennes’s Austrian Army, then turn back with Blucher and deal with those damned French people.

But he knew that the French people didn’t care about the fate of the Austrian Army, yet he had to care about the survival of the States-General of the Netherlands.

After cursing for over ten minutes, he ordered the Hanoverian Army to turn back north and head for Antonov.

Two days after his troops left, the infantry regiment he had sent to support the Dutch reported that they had been ambushed by the French Army en route, losing hundreds of men.

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