Ahead of the thin, stretched-out infantry line, Lefebvre wiped the sweat from his palms onto his uniform as he watched the mass of Albanian mercenaries in their yellow tunics swarming toward him like an army of ants.

The second lieutenant beside him whispered, “Lieutenant, there are about three or four thousand of them…”

“I can see that,” Lefebvre responded, his face tense. He was starting to regret his decision. Yes, he had managed to get behind enemy lines, but he only had 220 men with him.

The spacing between his soldiers was around 1.5 meters, which was far too wide; it should have been between 0.5 and 0.7 meters. They were only two ranks deep. If the enemy launched a strong attack, it wouldn’t take much to break through their line.

“Hold steady!” Lefebvre glanced over his shoulder and shouted to boost morale. “Keep your guns ready. The enemy won’t stand a chance!” But in truth, his forehead was already covered in sweat.

Soon, the yellow-clad “ants” reached the French infantry line.

“Fire!” Lefebvre shouted, and the first rank of soldiers fired their muskets, sending fire and smoke billowing into the air.

The distance was still a bit far, so only seven or eight Albanian mercenaries were hit. But the rest of the Albanian force reacted as if stung by scorpions, scattering to the sides as if the thin French line was a stone wall.

“Fire!”

When the second rank of French soldiers fired, the mass of mercenaries began to panic and flee in disarray. Their morale had completely collapsed—they were so terrified that they didn’t even bother to check how many enemies there were.

Lefebvre was surprised by this, but his voice grew louder with confidence, “Reload!”

“Fire!”

As the soldiers of the Guard Corps continued to fire, the fleeing Albanians became more and more chaotic, with many being trampled in the stampede. These 200 soldiers managed to hold off the enemy’s 3,000 mercenaries for nearly 20 minutes. Only a portion of the mercenaries escaped by flanking the thin French line—Lefebvre’s forces were so few that they could only block about a quarter of the wide road.

Finally, the first group of cadets from the military academy arrived behind the Albanian mercenaries. The remaining enemy forces quickly threw down their weapons and surrendered.

Four hours later, Joseph, Berthier, and other officers walked through the center of the battlefield, watching soldiers carefully carry away the wounded and loudly command groups of Albanian prisoners.

The battle had gone more smoothly than Joseph had expected—the Guard Corps and cadets displayed high morale and excellent combat skills. Of course, a significant factor was the enemy’s disorganized forces. If not for that, Berthier might have had to wait for the arrival of the Moulin Corps before facing off against the main Algerian army of over 20,000 soldiers in a much tougher battle.

As they walked, soldiers noticed them and snapped to attention, saluting sharply. Joseph nodded in acknowledgment to each one.

Berthier took a note from a staff officer, quickly scanned it, and turned to Joseph with a smile. “Your Highness, we’ve just received word that we captured over 3,000 more enemy soldiers on the western front, including a few high-ranking officers.”

“Oh? They caught up with them?” Joseph was surprised. After the enemy had scattered, some fled north, and others retreated west. Berthier had ordered the cavalry to pursue the northern group, and Joseph had assumed that the western group might escape.

Berthier explained, “Two skirmisher companies quickly moved to the west and cut off their retreat.”

A staff officer then briefed Joseph on how the western ambush had unfolded.

“François Lefebvre?” The name sounded familiar to Joseph. Suddenly, he remembered—this was none other than the future Duke of Danzig!

One of Napoleon’s 26 marshals, Lefebvre had fought in major battles like the Battle of Fleurus and the Battle of Jena, and even participated in the Russian campaign, earning significant accolades.

Joseph realized that Lefebvre was a commoner who had served in the French Guard. It seemed that Berthier had recruited him when taking command of the Guard Corps, which explained his exceptional performance in leading two companies to hold off over 3,000 Albanian mercenaries. It felt like he had stumbled upon a hidden gem.

Joseph turned to Berthier, “Lieutenant Colonel, how do you plan to reward Lieutenant Lefebvre?”

Berthier thought for a moment and replied, “He fought bravely and demonstrated strong leadership skills. He also performed exceptionally well during previous drills. Your Highness, I believe he deserves the Silver Fleur-de-Lis Medal and a promotion to captain.”

Joseph had established a merit-based system for military honors, with medals ranked from highest to lowest as Gold, Silver, and Bronze Fleur-de-Lis. These medals were awarded for specific acts of valor: the Gold Fleur-de-Lis for turning the tide of a battle, the Silver for significantly impacting the outcome, and the Bronze for major contributions to a battle’s success.

This system was far more advanced than anything in Europe at the time. In most European armies, medals were only awarded to noble officers. But in the Prince’s Guard Corps, even a beggar-turned-soldier could earn a medal for their contributions to the war effort.

Each level of honor also came with specific rewards and privileges. After earning a medal, a soldier would immediately receive their due rewards, whether it was money, a promotion, or even benefits for their family.

With such a system in place, it was no wonder the soldiers were eager to fight and had such high morale.

After pondering for a moment, Joseph said, “I think we should promote Lefebvre to major. The Guard Corps is in need of talent, and we should give promising officers more opportunities.”

This was true. Because the Guard Corps recruited primarily from commoners and minor nobles, they were short on mid- and high-ranking officers. In 18th-century France, only wealthy nobles could afford to attend military academies that trained future high-ranking officers. Those without money or connections, even if they managed to enter an academy, were often relegated to studying less prestigious subjects like surveying or engineering, and their advancement was painfully slow.

As a result, many lieutenants in the Guard Corps were being forced to serve as company commanders because of the severe shortage of captains.

But most importantly, Joseph was confident that Lefebvre could handle the responsibilities of a major. After all, Napoleon himself had tested and proven his capabilities through numerous wars.

Berthier nodded with a smile, “As you command, Your Highness.”

In the Guard Corps, the Prince’s orders were absolute. Of course, Joseph was careful not to overstep his expertise, knowing that this army was his most important foundation.

A staff officer joked, “It looks like Captain Davout’s shine will be overshadowed.”

Berthier also smiled, “He’s still young. Having someone to outshine him might motivate him to grow even faster.”

The future Marshal Davout was only 18 years old, having graduated from military school less than six months earlier. He had already shown exceptional skill during drills, earning a promotion to lieutenant and command of an infantry company. In today’s battle, he had bravely led his company, enduring heavy enemy fire and being the first to charge into the enemy’s ranks with bayonets, earning him a promotion to captain.

Joseph couldn’t help but marvel at how Napoleon’s marshals were truly extraordinary. Give them just a little opportunity, and they would quickly rise to the top.

By the afternoon, the Guard Corps had mostly finished cleaning up the battlefield. Joseph personally oversaw the ceremony for the fallen soldiers, though the actual religious rites were performed by the accompanying chaplain.

In this battle, the Guard Corps and the cadets had suffered 89 fatalities and 70 serious injuries.

While these numbers weren’t particularly high, given the one-sided nature of the battle, they could have been lower.

However, this was their first real combat experience. Joseph believed that as they gained more experience, they would continue to improve.

As they watched the fallen soldiers being carefully laid to rest, with the Prince paying his respects to each one, the soldiers of the Guard Corps began to experience a shift in their feelings.

Previously, they had been grateful to and reliant on the Prince. But now, having fought alongside him on the battlefield, their feelings had deepened into admiration and respect.

The next day at 5 PM, the Moulin Corps finally arrived, half a day later than expected.

In the officers’ tent, Andre looked remorseful as he saluted Joseph, “Your Highness, I apologize for my delay.”

Joseph gestured for him to sit and asked, “Did something happen?”

Andre nodded awkwardly, “Your Highness, after we left Tunis, our supply of wine didn’t arrive, and the next day we had a large outbreak of dysentery.”

He glanced outside the tent, “In fact, only about 2,600 men from the Moulin Corps made it here. The rest had to stay behind due to severe illness.”

The Moulin Corps had 3,000 soldiers when they left Tunis, meaning they had lost 13% of their forces to dysentery in just four or five days.

Joseph frowned slightly. He knew that most of the population in Tunis followed Islam and didn’t drink alcohol, making it difficult to find wine. This only confirmed his doubts about the Tunisian people’s ability to provide adequate logistical support.

Wine was a crucial supply for armies at the time, mainly because its fermentation process killed off most harmful bacteria, making it the safest way to stay hydrated.

After leaving Tunis, the Moulin Corps had no wine and had to drink whatever water they could find in the wild. This likely led to the widespread outbreak of dysentery.

Joseph reassured Andre and told him to settle his troops, as they might face battle the next day. According to captured Albanian mercenaries, the main force of the Algerian Janissaries was just about a day’s march away.

After Andre left, Joseph suddenly thought of something and turned to Berthier, “Did the Guard Corps’ wine supply get cut off too?”

“No, Your Highness. We also ran out of wine after leaving Tunis.”

“Really? Then why didn’t the Guard Corps suffer from dysentery?”

A staff officer proudly replied, “Your Highness, that’s all thanks to Doctor Perne. Before this, dysentery was a serious problem in the corps, but once the doctor insisted that everyone drink only hot water, the situation improved significantly. He might have even saved this campaign.”

Joseph blinked in surprise, “Perne?”

Berthier added quietly, “That’s Doctor Perna’s male alias.”

“It’s her?”

A moment later, Dr. Perna entered the officers’ tent, dressed in her white uniform with her hair neatly tucked into her tricorn hat. She saluted Joseph and the other officers with a perfect male salute.

Joseph tipped his hat in return, curious. “How did you come up with the idea to have the Guard Corps drink hot water?”

Dr. Perna replied earnestly, “Your Highness, it was you who taught me.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you once explained to my father that illnesses are caused by bacteria entering the body. Later in Bordeaux, you told Mr. Venio that bacteria die after being in hot water for half an hour.”

The young doctor took a deep breath and continued, “When soldiers in the corps began to fall ill with dysentery, I remembered what you said and ordered that all water be boiled for half an hour before drinking. Many soldiers started to recover, while those who didn’t follow the order continued to suffer for over a month.

“So I was convinced your method was effective and made sure all the soldiers drank hot water.”

Joseph was both impressed by the doctor’s quick thinking and slightly amused—boiling water for half an hour was probably overkill, but it had certainly worked.

He had to admit that Dr. Perna had made a significant contribution. If the Guard Corps had lost 13% of its soldiers to dysentery, the battle against the Albanian mercenaries would have been much more difficult.

Joseph also felt a bit guilty—he should have shared these basic health tips with the army earlier. It was easy to overlook simple things.

He nodded approvingly to Dr. Perna, “You did an excellent job. I’m considering awarding you a medal.”

Dr. Perna quickly waved her hands in modesty, “I was just doing my duty as a doctor, Your Highness. You don’t need to reward me. Honestly, I’m just happy to be able to treat soldiers in the corps.”

Joseph suddenly remembered that Dr. Perna often faced hostility from patients, some of whom believed that a female doctor would bring them bad luck.

The soldiers of the Guard Corps likely noticed that she was disguised as a man, but since military doctors were scarce and those who could actually cure them even rarer, they pretended not to know. That alone was enough to make her happy.

An idea came to Joseph’s mind, “Doctor Perna, I’d like you to help establish a field hospital for the Guard Corps.”

In this era, most soldiers didn’t die on the battlefield but from infections caused by poor medical conditions after being wounded.

While antibiotics hadn’t been discovered yet, maintaining a clean and sanitary medical environment and regularly sterilizing medical instruments could at least reduce the risk of infections by half.

Dr. Perna, with her excellent medical skills, attention to detail, and eagerness to learn, was the perfect person for this job.

Moreover, this would allow her to continue pursuing her passion for medicine without worrying too much about her gender.

“A field hospital?” Dr. Perna had never heard of such a concept.

“Yes!” Joseph nodded. “And you can also help establish the profession of nursing.”

(End of Chapter)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep