Chapter 237 The Battle Of Romney Marsh
Yet most of the heavy cannons of the British were already neutralized thanks to the precise fire of the 155mm howitzer mounted on the paddle steamers. Still, Napoleon knew their forces couldn\'t go complacent as the British were going to do everything in their power to prevent them from landing.
The first wave of troops jumped out from the landing boats, their boots sinking into the wet sand as they waded ashore. The sound of cannon fire and the chaos of battle echoed all around them, but their training and discipline kept them focused on the task at hand. They formed into lines and advanced under the cover of smoke and the lingering haze of gunpowder.
There\'s one problem, the French soldiers who landed on the shore were marching forward blind. After all, it was dead at night, there was no moon to provide illumination, and the beach itself was shrouded in darkness. Napoleon realized that the lack of visibility posed a serious challenge to their advance. Despite the initial success in securing the beachhead, he knew that the situation could quickly turn if his troops became disoriented or vulnerable to surprise attacks from hidden British defenders.
Fortunately, Napoleon had an answer to that problem.
"Launch illumination mortar rounds!" Napoleon ordered, and all ships that were mounted with mortars swiftly responded to the command. The mortars were loaded with special shells designed to burst in mid-air and illuminate the battlefield.
With a series of thunderous thumps, the mortar rounds were fired simultaneously from the ships. As they arched high into the sky, a brilliant display of light erupted. The once-shrouded darkness was replaced by an otherworldly radiance as if it were daylight.
The sudden illumination revealed the positions of both the invading forces and the British defenders. Soldiers on both sides blinked against the unexpected brightness, momentarily blinded by the transition from darkness to light. But as their eyes adjusted, they could see the battlefield clearly for the first time that night.
The British defenders were shocked, raising their arms to shield their eyes from the blinding radiance that had suddenly enveloped the battlefield. The intense light exposed their positions and formations, leaving them vulnerable to the approaching invasion force.
"They are in the trenches," Napoleon muttered under his breath as he observed the scene on the beach. "General Bernadotte, I trust that you can breach those trenches with your forces?" Napoleon turned to the General of the First Corps.
General Bernadotte nodded in response. "Certainly your excellency, with sheer numbers. We\'ll concentrate our forces in the middle. They won\'t be able to stop the battle-hardened French soldiers."
"True, now off you go," Napoleon said and General Bernadotte saluted and turned to make his way to the small sailing boat waiting nearby. The boat was bobbing gently in the water, secured to the side of the Flagship Orient.
As he stepped onto the boat, his aides and a few selected officers followed suit. The crew quickly untethered the boat from the flagship, and with strong, synchronized movements, they began to row towards the shore. The oars dipped into the water, propelling the boat forward through the gentle waves.
Napoleon watched from the deck of the Orient as the small boat made its way toward the illuminated beach. He could see General Bernadotte\'s figure silhouetted against the brilliance of the illumination rounds.
"Don\'t fail me here, Bernadotte," Napoleon whispered.
"Sir, I\'m also ready to command my men on the beach," said another General. Napoleon recognized the voice; it belonged to Auguste de Marmont, his old aide-de-camp.
Napoleon turned his gaze to General de Marmont and nodded. "Very well, General. When all the troops under your command are offloaded, you can proceed with the advance."
General Marmont saluted.
The British defenders had recovered from the initial shock of the illumination rounds and were regrouping to counter the French advance.
"Don\'t let any French get past this trench!" One of the commanders of the British Army shouted. "If you let them in! England…no Great Britain will fall!"
The defenders, inspired by their commander\'s fervent words and driven by a sense of duty to protect their homeland, rallied to hold their positions. They tightened their formation along the trench line, their musket at the ready. The illuminated battlefield now offered them a clearer view of the advancing French troops, and they began to fire in disciplined volleys, attempting to halt the invaders\' progress.
On the beach, General Bernadotte and his officers disembarked from the small sailing boat, their boots crunching on the sand as they joined their soldiers.
"Form up an assault column!" General Bernadotte\'s voice cut through the noise as he directed his troops to organize their lines. "Prepare to advance and breach the enemy defenses!"
The French soldiers, now under the command of a General, formed into dense assault columns.
The British defenders, now fully aware of the French intentions, braced themselves for the assault. Disciplined volleys of musket fire erupted from the trench line.
The volleys took a number of French soldiers and fell to the ground. The men under the command of General Bernadotte weren\'t equipped with the latest weapon, the bolt-action rifle, so they\'d have to advance in an old-fashioned way.
As the dense column became nearer and nearer to the trench, more casualties were taken on both sides.
As the column reached the edge of the trench, the intensity of the battle escalated to a new level. The soldiers at the forefront engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat with the defenders, bayonets clashing against muskets, and desperate shouts drowning out the sounds of gunfire. The trench became a bloody battleground, where every inch of ground was bitterly contested.
General de Marmont, leading his own contingent of troops, joined the fray. But he had a different tactic, there were three trenches dug along the Romney Marsh, and General Bernadotte just cut through one of them. If they are going to cut the second and third, they are going to need firepower.
"Send a telegraph to the Orient, we need their cannons and artillery support!" General de Marmont shouted over the cacophony of battle. His aides quickly relayed his orders to the nearby signalmen, who began transmitting the urgent message via telegraph to the flagship Orient.
As the telegraph signals blinked their way to the waiting flagship. General Bernadotte\'s assault column fought on fiercely. The soldiers were locked in a brutal struggle with the British defenders.
The British, emboldened by their desire to protect their homeland, were fighting ferociously. Even when they were stabbed by bayonets, or fired upon by muskets, they still held their ground.
"Get out of our land!" Shouted one of the British soldiers who charged with bayonets, only to be shot down by a French musketeer.
As the battle raged on, more and more British troops were arriving at the Romney Marsh shoreline, reinforcing the beleaguered defenders. The sound of bugles and drums echoed through the air.
It was a wide-scale battle, for the British, it was a life-or-death situation. Despite them not having experience in fighting continental-style warfare, their determination and love for their homeland fueled their resistance. The British commanders quickly organized their new arrivals into formations, attempting to stem the tide of the French advance.
Napoleon observed the battle through his spyglass and he couldn\'t help but click his tongue. If only those French soldiers on the ground were equipped with bolt-action rifles, securing a beachhead would be easy. But those troops that were armed with advanced weaponry were still on their way to the beach.
They\'ll have to hold their ground for the British held a numerical advantage thanks to the Militia. Even though the Militia had no battle experience as that of regular troops, they were still willing to stand and fight for their homeland.
What he could only do now was to give their men artillery support.