Reincarnated as Napoleon



On the morning of May 10th, 1796. Napoleon's advance guard under the command of General Dallemagne arrived at the city of Lodi, barely catching up to the Austrian rear guards.

Dallemagne watched as the Austrians crossed the bridge, and from the other side, he saw cannons being set up, battalions forming ranks, and infantry preparing for a defensive stand. The Austrians had chosen to make their last stand at the strategic bridge of Lodi, a crucial crossing point over the Adda River. If they could hold this position, they hoped to slow down the advancing French forces and regroup their scattered troops.

Dallemagne, a seasoned general, understood the significance of this moment. The fate of the entire campaign could hinge on the outcome of this battle. He knew that a direct assault on the fortified bridgehead would result in heavy casualties, so they needed to come up with a plan.

He waited for Napoleon to arrive in the city, and as soon as Napoleon arrived, he rushed toward him immediately.

"General Bonaparte, the Austrians are making their stand at the bridge. A direct assault would be costly as they already fortified their positions."

Napoleon gazed at the other side of the bridge before pulling out a spyglass to have a clear view of the Austrian positions.

"Yeah…it seemed like it," Napoleon said. "Set up the cannons immediately along the banks…"

"General…are you perhaps considering a frontal assault on the bridge?" Dallegmane asked.

Napoleon nodded. "That's right."

"But sir…that's suicide. The moment we stepped on that bridge, we will be met with cannons and a hail of gunfire. Our casualties will be immense."

Napoleon fixed his gaze on Dallemagne and gave him a reassuring smile.

"Murat," Napoleon called, glancing at his back.

"What is it, General?" Murat urged his horse forward, coming to stand beside Napoleon and Dallemagne.

"The General of Brigade, under the command of Colonel Beaumont, you know him right?" Napoleon asked.

Murat nodded, recognizing the name. "Yes, General. I am familiar with Colonel Beaumont.

"Good, tell him to move upstream with his men, find a ford and flank the Austrians from the rear, forcing them to divide their attention and weakening their defenses. Tell him immediately."

"Understood," Murat acknowledged, quickly turning his horse to relay Napoleon's orders to Colonel Beaumont.

Meanwhile, Napoleon turned his attention back to the impending assault on the bridge. He knew that a frontal attack would be perilous, but he also understood the element of surprise could play a crucial role in their success. He needed to exploit the enemy's expectation of them not going for a direct assault and turn it against them.

"General Dallemagne," Napoleon called.

"Yes, General?" Dallemagne glanced at him.

"Have your men ready for an assault at a moment's notice. For now, we are going to fight the Austrians with cannons."

***

Hours later, the battle of Lodi was reduced to a duel of cannons. French and Austrian artillerymen meticulously loaded and aimed their cannons, their movements precise and calculated. Thick smoke enveloped the battlefield, obscuring the view and adding an eerie atmosphere to the scene.

Napoleon, standing amidst the chaos, closely observed the exchanges of cannon fire.

"This is going nowhere," Napoleon clicked his tongue impatiently. Beaumont hasn't found a crossing yet. Adding to his frustration was that the cannons they were firing mostly missed their intended target.

He dismounted his horse and approached one of the cannons.

"General?" The artillery corporals gasped at the presence of Napoleon.

The gunners glanced at each other in surprise but quickly stood to attention, recognizing their commander. Napoleon's eyes scanned the cannon and its surroundings, assessing the lay of the land and the target ahead.

"Prepare the aiming stakes!" Napoleon commanded firmly.

The artillerymen hurriedly retrieved a pair of stakes and set them on the ground, aligning them with the intended target. Napoleon walked over, studying the stakes' position in relation to the enemy's fortifications. He took a moment to gauge the distance, mentally calculating the elevation angle required for an accurate shot.

"Adjust the cannon's position to align with the stakes!" Napoleon called out.

The gunners sprang into action, maneuvering the cannon. They used handspikes to shift its position, inch by inch, until the aiming stakes lined up perfectly in their sights.

Napoleon approached the cannon and reached for a quadrant device, a tool used to measure the elevation angle. Holding it steady, he carefully sighted the enemy positions, taking into account the distance and the desired trajectory.

"Raise the elevation! Thirty degrees!" Napoleon commanded.

The gunners adjusted the cannon's elevation screws, incrementally raising the barrel until the quadrant device indicated the desired angle.

With the cannon now precisely aimed, Napoleon turned his attention to the loading process. He supervised as the gunners meticulously loaded the appropriate ammunition—a round shot, in this case—followed by the carefully measured powder charge.

As the gunners completed their tasks, Napoleon stepped back, his gaze fixed on the enemy fortifications. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for the moment of truth.

"Fire!"

A gunner swiftly ignited the match cord, and with a thunderous blast, the round shot hurtled towards its target. Napoleon watched intently as the projectile soared through the air, its trajectory true to his calculations.

A moment of suspense followed as the round shot found its mark, crashing into the enemy cannons.

Napoleon repeated the process, taking down a few cannons from the Austrians. He wanted to reduce their firepower for his plan.

The artillerymen watched Napoleon with awe, their admiration for his strategic prowess growing with each successful shot. Napoleon's hands were covered in dirt and grime, and his clothes in mud. They rarely saw a general aiming a cannon themselves, let alone one as renowned as Napoleon. The soldiers couldn't help but respect his dedication.

Encouraged by Napoleon's example, the French artillerymen redoubled their efforts. They emulated his precision and attention to detail, meticulously adjusting their cannons' positions and carefully measuring each shot. With every thunderous blast, their rounds found their targets, wreaking havoc among the Austrian.

"Okay I believe that's it," Napoleon said and headed back to meet with Dallemagne.

"General Massena just arrived, General Bonaparte," Dallemagne informed.

"Good, that means we have a substantial force, prepared for a frontal assault," Napoleon said.

"But..General…" Dallemagne tried to protest again but paused when Napoleon walked over to the front of the carabiniers.

"Comrades!"

Napoleon's voice boomed across the battlefield, commanding the attention of every soldier within earshot. The soldiers of the carabiniers turned their gaze toward their leader, their faces smudged with dirt and streaked with sweat, their eyes filled with both weariness and determination.

Napoleon stood tall, his figure silhouetted against the smoke-filled sky. His presence radiated confidence and authority that seemed to have awed the soldiers momentarily.

"Comrades," he began. "We stand here at the precipice of victory. The Austrians believe they can defy us, that their fortifications and cannons will protect them. But I ask you, are we to be cowed by their feeble attempts at resistance?"

A resounding "No!" echoed through the ranks, the soldiers' voices filled with a newfound fervor.

Napoleon's eyes gleamed with fiery determination.

"These Austrians, they dare to challenge our might? They dare to question our invincibility? I say, let them see the full force of our wrath! Let them witness the unwavering resolve of the French army!"

A wave of excitement surged through the soldiers as they clung onto Napoleon's every word. Their fatigue seemed to fade away, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose.

"I stand here before you, not as a mere general, but as one of you," Napoleon declared, his voice filled with conviction. "I have aimed cannons, marched through mud and rain, and shed blood on the battlefield. Today, I stand beside you, ready to face the enemy head-on."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, the weight of his proclamation settling on the soldiers' shoulders.

"Do you fear the enemy's cannons? Do you tremble before their defenses?" Napoleon's voice rose defiantly. "No! I see in your eyes the spirit of true warriors, the determination that will carry us to victory. We will not be deterred by their fortifications. We will not be swayed by their firepower. We will cross that bridge and show them the indomitable strength of the French army!"

Cheers erupted from the ranks, filling the air with an electrifying energy. The soldiers' faces transformed, their weariness replaced by a fierce resolve. They looked at one another, their eyes filled with a shared understanding and determination.

Napoleon raised his sword high, the glint of steel cutting through the haze of smoke.

"Soldiers of France, I dare you to take that bridge! I dare you to show the world what it means to be a soldier of the French Republic! Let the enemy tremble at our approach! Forward, my comrades! Forward to victory! Vive la République!"

The soldiers erupted into a thunderous roar, their voices merging into a deafening battle cry. With hearts afire and newfound courage, they charged toward the bridge, roaring like a tiger and with unwavering determination. The ground shook beneath their feet as they advanced towards the bridge, a mass of blue uniforms moving as one.

As they approached the fortified bridgehead, the Austrians, taken aback by the sudden surge of French soldiers, scrambled to reposition themselves. Their cannons belched smoke and fire, unleashing a barrage of deadly projectiles toward the oncoming force. But the French soldiers, fueled by their leader's impassioned speech, pressed on undeterred.

"Vive la République!" The French soldiers roared, cried, and yelled, sending chills down to the enemy spines.

His Generals from the rear were also inspired and moved by the speech and the actions of the men who first surged through the bridge.

Massena followed with his men, trailed by General Berthier, and Corporal Lannes. Together, they surged across, under, and around the bridge.

In that instant, the Austrians' defenses crumbled and the troops panickedly retreated.

General Karl Sebottendorf witnessed such a scene.

"This is madness…" Karl stammered.

"General! Enemy cavalry spotted on our right!" His aide-de-camp interrupted, his voice filled with urgency.

Karl Sebottendorf turned his gaze towards the reported threat, his eyes widening at the sight of French cavalry charging toward his exposed flank. Panic gripped his heart as he realized the dire situation they were in. The bridge, once their stronghold, was now swarmed by the relentless advance of the French army.

Gritting his teeth, Karl knew he had to make a swift decision to salvage whatever remained of his forces. He turned to his aide-de-camp.

"Signal a retreat! We cannot hold this position any longer," he ordered in resignation.

The aide-de-camp quickly relayed the command, and the Austrian soldiers, disheartened and overwhelmed, began to retreat in disarray.

Napoleon and his generals cheered their victory and immediately took left cannons, rifles, and standards.

"Did we just win?" General Berthier asked.

"No…not yet, Berthier. But we will continue to chase them," Napoleon said. "They might be going towards Mantua now."

He dismounted his horse and allowed himself for a brief respite by looking at the horizon.

To couldn't believe himself pulling it off, like Napoleon, he inspired his troops to do things.

"I no longer regarded myself as a simple general but as a man called upon to decide the fates of the people, was it…" Napoleon muttered under his breath. It was the quote made by Napoleon after this very battle. It seems like it fits him now.