Holy Roman Empire

Chapter 799 - 62, Survival by Tail-Cutting

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Ugsur, the Rebel Army’s Eighth Division had already constructed simple fortifications, waiting for the French to arrive.

Inside the command post, Colonel Hutile held a pointer against the sand table and said, "According to intelligence reported by our scouts, the enemy halted their advance thirty miles away.

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Clearly, they have discovered us. The enemy is on high alert, and the planned ambush must be canceled immediately."

The French, having operated in Egypt for a long time, have naturally cultivated quite a few loyalists; the news of the Eighth Division’s presence in Ugsur was impossible to keep secret.

After suffering a major defeat, the French Army had become like startled birds. Any small movement would alert them, making an ambush impossible.

Fa Jinhan complained, "Who knows what those fools at the rear are doing? They’ve just missed a golden opportunity."

The ambush plan was premised on being pursued. Only with pursuers behind them would the French lack the time to think and be driven into the ambush zone in a panic.

Regrettably, the Rebel Army’s response was too slow, and by the time they reacted, the French had already gone tens of kilometers away.

One step slow, every step slow. The Rebel Army, already poor at marching, naturally couldn’t catch up with the French, desperate to escape.

The fact the French Army could stop and settle down upon noticing something amiss showed the pressure from chasing forces was not great.

Major Botiolayek spoke fairly, "This is normal. Blowing up the Aswan Dam dealt a heavy blow not only to the French Army but also to the Rebel Army.

With such an event, the Rebel Army was bound to be in disarray, and conflicts amongst the high ranks would escalate.

That they could gather troops in such a short time and catch up probably cost General Jeret quite an effort."

Colonel Hutile nodded and steered the conversation towards battle strategy, "Based on the current situation, the odds are still more in our favor.

No matter how slow the pursuers are, their mere existence puts pressure on the French.

In a sense, not engaging the French directly is also a good thing.

If it comes to a fight, revealing the Rebel Army’s frail nature could indeed turn the tides in favor of the French."

If the enemy does not approach, we’ll wait here. Time is on our side.

If Governor Adolf doesn’t want to get sandwiched between us, he must break through here within five days.

We’ve already seized all the strategic routes and established simple signals, but this is still not enough.

In terms of combat strength, the Eighth Division is at most equivalent to a second-line infantry regiment of the French Army. Even with so many advantages, defeating the enemy on the front lines is still challenging.

The time has come to test all that we have learned; we must adapt to the situation on the battlefield to stand a chance of holding the enemy back."

Clearly, facing the French for the first time was not easy for Colonel Hutile.

The optimistic Major Botiolayek laughed, "Don’t worry, Colonel. We might not dare to confront the French main force, but can’t we handle a bunch of defeated stragglers?

If the scouts are not mistaken, more than half of this French force is unarmed; they can hardly fight us with fire sticks!

If it really comes down to it, we can destroy roads and bridges to slow their march, buying time for the Rebel Army’s main forces."

Colonel Hutile rolled his eyes, "I hope you’re as optimistic on the battlefield, Major Botiolayek.

As for destroying roads and bridges, that’s out of the question. If we actually destroy them, the French will have to take a detour.

Crossing the Sahara Desert from Isna to enter the River Valley Province, the narrowest part is just over a hundred kilometers. It’s not impossible, provided they are willing to pay the price."

Upon saying this, Hutile suddenly realized what he had overlooked.

And then there was no ’then.’ Dividing our forces to intercept them is out of the question. With the pitiful combat strength of the Eighth Division, dividing forces would be tantamount to handing them our heads.

Schtausenburg, "This is the last option. The French Army is not prepared for a desert march; blindly crossing the Sahara will inevitably result in significant losses.

Only when they are certain they can’t break through our lines will they risk marching through the desert."

After hesitating for a moment, Colonel Hutile made his decision, "We’ll start with interception. Once we discover the French entering the desert, we’ll immediately implement the marauder plan.

I don’t care about the cities. All able-bodied men and women from surrounding villages and tribes must be conscripted, and then we must proceed quickly along the Nile River.

We must get into the Delta Region before the French return. Leave them nothing but ruins, let them..."

…

The crackle of gunfire broke out, heralding the beginning of battle. Without the presence of artillery, it was like setting off firecrackers.

Compared to the spirited departure, Governor Adolf, peering through his binoculars, seemed particularly haggard, as if he had aged twenty years.

"Governor, it’s too dangerous here, you should…"

Without letting the guard finish, Adolf interrupted, "It doesn’t matter. If God wishes to summon me early, that would be a blessing."

Even though he was not in his homeland, Adolf knew there were many who would crush him into dust without hesitation.

One could imagine that his fate upon returning would not be kind. As a soldier, he’d rather die on the battlefield than face trial in a military court.

After pausing for a while, Adolf asked, "Where has Colonel Makro reached?"

"Judging by the time, they should be almost through the Sahara Desert," the guard replied.

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Marching through the desert requires preparation of a vast array of supplies; without ample preparation, it would be a death march, and Adolf couldn’t possibly gather enough in such a short time.

If the entire army left together, there wouldn’t be enough supplies, but it was still feasible to first allow the French soldiers to evacuate. As for the Egyptian soldiers, they were expendable; losing more of them didn’t matter.

At its peak, the Rebellion Suppression Army could easily tear through the Eighth Division’s blockade, but not anymore.

After surviving the ordeal of flooding, the French Army that made it through lost all their heavy weaponry, and over two-thirds of the soldier even lost the rifles they carried with them.

This couldn’t be blamed on them; struggling to survive after falling into the water, their weapons had become a burden, and naturally had to be discarded.

Those soldiers who retained their weapons had only a handful of bullets left. Although they conscripted some weapons and ammunition in the cities they passed through, it was still like trying to extinguish a cartload of burning wood with a cup of water.

With less than ten bullets per person, each shot fired would be one less they had.

Leading a band of broken and exhausted soldiers, and short on guns and medicine, tearing through the enemy’s defenses head-on was not something Governor Adolf was mad enough to consider.

War always requires sacrifice, and in such a crucial moment, Adolf displayed a decisive side. He stayed behind with the Egyptian soldiers to attract the enemy’s attention, covering the retreat of the soldiers of French descent.

Of course, a fight was still necessary. How else could they cheat the enemy without putting up a fight?

If the Rebel Army noticed that the main force of the French had fled and charged directly towards Cairo, Cairo, with its depleted defenses, might not be able to hold on.

If Cairo fell, France’s situation in Egypt would completely deteriorate. As the Governor of Egypt, Adolf still had a sense of responsibility.

Staying behind was to stall the Rebel Army, buying precious time for the French forces that were taking a roundabout way back to Cairo.

Upon hearing this news, Adolf breathed a sigh of relief. Even a feint attack required the expenditure of ammunition, and now, after so much fighting, many soldiers’ rifles were nothing more than fire sticks, only equipped with a bayonet.

Once the weapons and ammunition were exhausted, the play would be up. By that time, they would be powerless to fight to the death, left only with the options to flee or to be captured.

Camels, water bottles—all the essential tools for marching through the desert had been taken by the departing French forces. Those left behind would even have trouble fleeing.

Adolf was just about to put down his binoculars when the scene he most dreaded unfolded before him—the enemy launched a counterattack.

"Damn it, the enemy has discovered our true situation. Send orders, command the troops to immediately move eastward, to rendezvous in Hesse!"

It was not an easy route; it meant crossing a barren wilderness, but it was still better than heading into the desert unprepared, to certain death.

...

A rabble will always be a rabble. After the counterattack began, the Eighth Division quickly fell into disarray.

Seeing the enemy flee, soldiers of the Rebel Army chased them down eagerly, ignoring their commanders’ orders from behind and acting entirely on their own whims.

This infuriated Hutile, who had never ordered an attack from start to finish, yet saw his men rush out to the battle.

Major Schtausenburg, who initiated the counterattack, was also bewildered. He had only ordered a tentative counterattack, yet suddenly it had escalated into a full assault.

Fortunately, the enemy was also in chaos. Otherwise, if the enemy had seized the opportunity and pushed them back, he would have become the laughing stock of the Austrian army.

Not just him, all Austrian officers commanding the battle were now plunged into self-doubt.

Who am I?

Where am I?

What am I supposed to do now?

...

The comedic victory had a profound impact on Hutile and others.

Many began to deeply question their ability to command militarily, and the arrogance they once had as if they owned the world had dissipated.

By evening, the Rebel Army soldiers who had gone on the chase gradually returned to the camp.

The most outstanding among them had several heads hanging from their waists, strutting through the camp with pride, as if flaunting their bravery.

The soldiers who returned empty-handed chose to hang their heads and avoid others, as if ashamed to show their faces.

Witnessing these scenes of barbarism, the faces of those in the command post were not looking good.

The senior Hutile, with the benefit of greater experience and knowledge, said calmly, "Don’t get angry. Those who have heads hanging from their waists are probably from tribes.

It’s their tradition to hang the heads of their enemies on themselves to prove their bravery.

Stay in Africa long enough, and you’ll get used to all this. The most barbaric are the Cannibal Tribes. If you’re lucky enough to witness that, you’ll no longer think much of today’s events.

But that’s all in the past. There are no such dangerous individuals in Austro-Africa anymore. Perhaps they may still exist in the colonies of England, France, and Portugal."

Hutile seemed composed, but his knowledge was also based on hearsay. Even though he arrived in Africa earlier than these individuals, he hadn’t been part of the colonial movement.

Fa Jinhan was the first to recover. He sighed and said slowly, "What a barbaric world, but this might be a good thing for our upcoming tasks.

It’s just a pity that the main force of the French managed to slip away. If only we had known how desperately short of ammunition they were, we would have attacked earlier."

...