French Empire: But Napoleon IV

Chapter 53 A Day in the Life of Soldier DuPont

There was certainly a shortage of supplies, but it wasn't to the extent Louis described.

Louis's complaints stemmed more from the limitations of logistics. In order to deal with the Prussian army, the Xia Long Legion, which needed to repair fortifications, chose to prioritize transporting construction materials such as concrete from the rear, rather than things like ammunition.

Therefore, what Louis complained about was, in a sense, indeed a reflection of reality. It was this reality that silenced DuPont, who could not refute Louis's words.

At 10 a.m., the sun was high overhead and the temperature soared to 32 degrees Celsius. The soldiers, working at full intensity, were all drenched in sweat. Their uniforms were soaked through and clung tightly to their bodies, emitting a sour, sweaty odor.

Sweat dripped down his cheeks and into the soil, leaving watermarks that quickly disappeared.

DuPont felt his throat was so dry it was almost burning. He licked his chapped lips, which were cracked in several places and bled when he licked them.

"Water? Does anyone have water?"

Not far away, a French soldier, his face deathly pale, weakly called out to the crowd. Under everyone's watchful eyes, he staggered a few steps before collapsing to the ground.

Seeing that the situation was not good, several soldiers rushed over to help him up, and DuPont was one of those who went to help him up.

Turning the soldier over, DuPont could tell from his face that the soldier had heatstroke. His lips were purple, and he was so confused that he was muttering incoherently.

"Medical officer! Call a medical officer quickly!"

France has a long history of military medical policy. As early as the time of Napoleon I, the French military genius established a systematic military medical system.

However, the French army's limited number of medics were simply too much to handle in such high temperatures.

The entire Xialong Legion has fewer than 500 military doctors. With 500 people to deal with 13, the military doctors simply don't have enough time to handle all kinds of situations. Moreover, in the current situation, the military doctors don't even have enough of the most basic iodine and bandages.

Soldiers suffering from heatstroke could only be carried to the shade of trees and have towels soaked in river water applied to their foreheads, in order to believe that God would have mercy on this brave warrior.

After laying the unconscious soldier down, DuPont looked at the dazed soldier and felt a pang of sadness in his heart.

DuPont remembered his comrade in the Xialong army camp, who died in the mud because of an infected wound on his arm and the lack of medicine.

Before he died, his companion kept calling out his mother's name, his voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

They worked until noon, when it was lunchtime. The soldiers put down their tools and lined up in long queues to receive their lunch.

Each person's lunch consisted of half a loaf of dark bread and a small tin can of filtered drinking water. The bread was as hard as a rock, but there was nothing else to complain about. The French army wasn't so desperate as to serve their soldiers inferior bread.

However, the taste of the dark bread was really hard to praise. DuPont broke off a small piece and put it in his mouth. Every bite was quite a workout for his jaw muscles. The bread crumbs scraped DuPont's throat and made it hurt.

DuPont, who found it difficult to swallow, took a sip of drinking water. The water had a fishy smell from the seaweed, and he felt a little uncomfortable after drinking it. He guessed that the drinking water was extracted from the Meuse River by the army through boiling, filtering and other processes.

The saying goes, "A little dirt won't hurt you." In those days, people weren't so particular, so the soldiers could tolerate this kind of food for a short time.

However, even if they endured it, it was impossible for the French soldiers not to complain. Even the veteran Louis had a lot of grievances to say.

"I've heard that people in Paris can eat white bread and drink red wine every day. We're working ourselves to the bone here, but we can't even get a sip of clean water."

"It's all because of the corruption of those officials. The military pay and supplies allocated by the government are all going into their own pockets. I heard that those old men in the Ministry of War eat and drink extravagantly in the big hotels in Paris every day. One meal of theirs is enough for one of us to eat for a month."

"So what? We're just foot soldiers; we can't change anything."

This sense of dejection has become the prevailing sentiment among Xia Long's army in the current context of material scarcity.

While Dupont and Louis, along with a few French soldiers who had gathered around, were complaining about various situations and venting their discontent.

A rapid sound of hooves came from afar, and a communications soldier rode a warhorse at full speed toward the command post.

It was clear that the situation was urgent, as the warhorse was already foaming at the mouth and anyone could tell that it was about to give up.

Attracted by the commotion, the soldiers stopped what they were doing and stared curiously at the communications soldier's back. An ominous premonition arose in DuPont's heart.

Sure enough, a little over an hour later, a message spread like wildfire across the battlefield.

The Battle of Gravolot-Saint-Priva broke out. Marshal Bazin's Army of the Rhine fought fiercely with the main Prussian army for a day and a night, suffering more than 2 casualties and being forced to retreat into the city of Metz. Meanwhile, the Prussian casualties exceeded 3.

Although the French army still had the advantage in terms of manpower, the Prussian army had already completed the complete encirclement of Metz.

The French high command was able to maintain composure, since they had discussed this matter beforehand. Whether they regretted it or not, they couldn't outwardly appear particularly distressed.

Montauban, who insisted on defending Metz, would he not feel annoyed and regretful when the Rhine Legion was besieged?

Regardless of whether he had such thoughts in his heart, at least on the surface, in order to maintain government stability and avoid being ridiculed by the Republican Party and Eugène, he could not show such regret.

For the lower-ranking soldiers, the concept of maintaining stability no longer existed. Although their casualty ratio was still advantageous, the encirclement of the Rhine Legion left them filled with dread.

"It's over, everything's over. The Prussian army has so many men, and we only have a few hundred thousand. How could we possibly win?"

"We won't end up like Bazan's army, surrounded by Prussian troops and starving to death in the trenches."

........

Panic spread rapidly. Driven by fear, French soldiers echoed the sentiments of others, with some even believing that Bazin's army would starve to death in Metz.

Faced with this situation of morale turmoil, the officers drew their swords and shouted orders to barely stabilize the situation.

The situation had stabilized, but the French soldiers' minds were clearly no longer on the construction of the fortifications. While the French soldiers were collectively slacking off and whispering among themselves, Napoleon III, accompanied by Field Marshal McMahon, arrived at the construction site.