Chapter 326: Point-Blank Barrage
The Prussian cavalry reserve and Hild's cavalry battalion, tasked with protecting the right flank artillery, quickly received orders and began forming up to eliminate the audacious French horse artillery that had positioned themselves right in front of the battle lines.
Meanwhile, the French horse artillery had completed their preparations for firing. The horses were led a hundred meters away, and the cannons were adjusted to the correct firing angle.
A messenger ran swiftly along the makeshift artillery positions, shouting, "Solid shot! Prepare to calibrate!"
The gunners skillfully loaded the gunpowder into the cannon, packed it down, and then inserted a six-pound iron ball. The battery commanders received reports of readiness from their crews, and the signal flag dropped.
The gunners immediately pulled the firing lanyards, and the hammer struck the percussion cap, igniting the gunpowder in the barrel.
Yes, the Imperial Guard's horse artillery was equipped with cannons that had all been upgraded to percussion cap ignition. Once the percussion cap technology for small arms had been perfected, it was relatively easy to adapt it for use with cannons. The only adjustments needed were reinforcing the breech and producing slightly larger percussion caps. These improvements had been completed by the Royal Arsenal earlier in the year.
With a deafening roar, thick black smoke billowed from the cannon muzzles as twelve iron balls hurtled towards the South Netherlands army, positioned about two hundred paces away.
At such close range, nearly a third of the cannonballs found their mark, tearing through the infantry lines with devastating force. The impact on the human body was akin to striking a water-filled balloon, causing blood and flesh to explode outward, spraying a gruesome mixture of red and black matter in a fan shape over a distance of seven or eight meters.
Even the shattered bones of the victims became deadly projectiles, as dangerous as bullets. The area within a meter on either side of the cannonball's path was an absolute kill zone, with soldiers within two meters likely to be injured or killed.
The cannonballs created four large gaps in the infantry line and continued to bounce along the ground, smashing into anything in their path. One particularly high-trajectory shot even rolled into the second line of the Netherlands troops, shattering a drummer's leg.
The battery commanders of the Imperial Guard's horse artillery observed the results through their telescopes and quickly ordered adjustments to the firing angles.
Less than half a minute later, the commander's voice rang out, "Grapeshot!"
When it came to inflicting casualties on infantry, solid shot was just an appetizer—grapeshot was the real nightmare. However, grapeshot had a shorter range, which made it less useful in long-range artillery duels, where it could be easily countered by solid shot from a greater distance. But now, with the Imperial Guard's horse artillery nearly at point-blank range, grapeshot was the perfect choice.
After ramming down the gunpowder, the loaders carefully inserted a cylindrical "canister" filled with lethal metal shot, tamping it down securely.
At the command to fire, twelve six-pounder cannons belched smoke once again, but this time they unleashed spinning canisters rather than solid iron balls.
In many films, when "grapeshot" is called for, it is often depicted as a hail of pellets, but in reality, the two are quite different. While both use small projectiles to inflict damage, grapeshot was not simply a bunch of loose pellets loaded into a cannon. Instead, the projectiles were bundled together with rope or packed in a canister, which kept them grouped together during flight. Only upon nearing the target would the canister or wrappings burst open, scattering the deadly shot.
A chorus of hellish screams erupted from the South Netherlands infantry line as nearly a hundred walnut-sized balls tore through their ranks like a giant swatter, instantly reducing fifty or sixty soldiers to mangled corpses.
The Dutch officers frantically shouted, "It's grapeshot! Get down! Stay in formation—don't scatter!"
The French infantry line was not far away. If the Dutch soldiers dispersed to avoid the artillery, they might not have time to reform before the French closed in, so they had no choice but to endure the onslaught.
"Don't worry! At this range, our cavalry will deal with those cannons soon enough!"
"Once we take out the French artillery, victory will be ours!"
The Dutch soldiers turned to see their cavalry nearly ready to charge, boosting their morale as they hurried to fill the gaps left by their fallen comrades.
But less than twenty seconds later, the French horse artillery fired again. Once more, grapeshot whistled through the air before the canisters burst, unleashing another deadly shower of balls. Despite the Dutch soldiers trying to duck under orders, more than thirty were struck down, spreading panic through the infantry line.
In this era of smoothbore muskets and muzzle-loading cannons, even at close range, musket volleys rarely caused such bloody carnage. Few had ever witnessed such a gruesome spectacle.
Major Hild, witnessing the horrific scene unfolding among the Netherlands infantry, saw that his cavalry had nearly completed forming up. Desperate to put an end to the French barrage, he whipped his horse forward and roared, "Follow me! Let's teach those French gunners a lesson!"
Immediately, over 800 horses began trotting forward—an action that violated cavalry doctrine. Typically, trotting would begin at around 300 paces, with a full gallop only allowed within 100 paces of the target. But at this moment, Hild's cavalry was still over 700 paces from the French horse artillery. Pushing the horses so early would severely tire them out.
Yet Hild could no longer afford to worry about that. If those cannons weren't silenced soon, the Netherlands infantry would be shattered by grapeshot!
Moreover, the cannons were so close that there was no way they could retreat in time. All Hild had to do was charge and he would capture a dozen or so cannons, an easy victory. Compared to that, the loss of some infantry earlier seemed insignificant.
However, just as his cavalry surged forward, the French gunners began hurriedly packing up their equipment, "clumsily" hitching the cannons back to their horses.
Hild sneered. These foolish French! How dare they drag their cannons so far forward? Even the most skilled gunners would take at least five minutes to hitch up and start retreating. Then it would take several more minutes to reach the safety of their infantry's covering fire.
Plenty of time for Hild to slaughter every one of these artillerymen, spike all their guns, and leisurely enjoy a victory smoke afterward!
(End of Chapter)
Friends, if you want to read chapters in advance, subscribe to my patreon.
Read 20 Chapters In Advance: patreon.com/johanssen10