Chapter 223: The World’s First Field Hospital
In front of the thin, elongated infantry line, Lefebvre watched anxiously as waves of Albanian mercenaries clad in dirt-yellow robes advanced slowly, resembling a swarm of ants. He wiped the sweat from his palms onto his uniform.
A second lieutenant standing nearby murmured, “Lieutenant, there are about three or four thousand of them…”
“I see them,” Lefebvre replied with a grim expression. He already regretted his decision. He had indeed managed to flank the enemy in advance, but his own force consisted of just 220 men.
The gaps between his infantrymen were as wide as 1.5 meters, a distance that should typically be no more than 0.5 to 0.7 meters. Furthermore, there were only two rows of soldiers. If the enemy launched a strong assault, the line would easily collapse.
“Hold your ground!” he shouted, glancing behind him to bolster morale. “Grip your weapons tightly. The enemy is nothing to fear!” Despite his confident words, cold sweat covered his forehead.
Soon, the dirt-yellow “swarm” was upon them, closing in on the infantry line.
At Lefebvre’s command of “Fire!”, the front row of soldiers fired, flames and thick smoke erupting simultaneously.
The distance was somewhat far, so only seven or eight Albanian mercenaries fell to the gunfire. However, the remaining mercenaries reacted as if stung by a scorpion, instantly splitting into two groups, as if the thin French infantry line was a stone wall they could not breach.
“Fire!”
When the second row of French soldiers unleashed their volley, the thousands of mercenaries who had been surging forward in a black mass suddenly panicked and turned to flee.
Their morale had been completely shattered. Like startled birds, the sound of gunfire alone caused them to react instinctively, without even glancing up to assess the size of the opposing force.
Lefebvre’s eyes gleamed with surprise. His voice grew louder. “Reload!”
...
“Fire!”
As the soldiers of the Guards Corps continued firing, the chaos among the Albanian troops only worsened. Trampling incidents became widespread as thousands of men were blocked for nearly 20 minutes by just 200 soldiers. Only a portion of the mercenaries managed to escape around the sides of the infantry line—Lefebvre’s men were too few in number, and their line could only block about a quarter of the flat road.
Finally, the first group of cadets appeared behind the Albanian forces. Seeing this, the mercenaries quickly abandoned all resistance, throwing down their weapons and kneeling to surrender.
...
Four hours later.
Joseph and Berthier, along with other officers, walked through the center of the battlefield. Soldiers were carefully carrying away the wounded or loudly ordering groups of captured Albanian mercenaries to march past.
The battle had gone much smoother than Joseph had expected. Both the Guards Corps and the cadets had demonstrated high morale and excellent combat skills. Of course, much of the credit also went to the disorganization of the enemy’s ranks. Otherwise, Berthier would have had no choice but to wait for the Moulin Corps to arrive and face over 20,000 Algerian troops in a head-on clash.
As they passed, soldiers frequently stopped to snap to attention and salute. Joseph nodded back in acknowledgment.
Berthier took a note handed to him by a staff officer, quickly scanned it, and turned to Joseph with a smile. “Your Highness, news has just come in that we’ve captured over 3,000 additional enemy troops on the western flank. It seems there are even some high-ranking officers among them.”
“Oh? They caught up with them?” Joseph was surprised. After the enemy’s retreat, one group had fled north while others headed west. Berthier had ordered the cavalry to pursue the northern group, believing the western force might escape.
Berthier explained, “Two skirmisher companies managed to flank the western side and cut off their retreat.”
A staff officer beside them quickly summarized the events of the western skirmish.
“François Lefebvre?” Joseph found the name familiar. Suddenly, he smacked his forehead. “Isn’t that the Duke of Danzig?”
One of Napoleon’s 26 Marshals of the Empire, Lefebvre had participated in major battles such as Fleurus and Jena and even followed Napoleon on the Russian campaign, achieving great military feats.
Joseph recalled that Lefebvre was of common birth and had served in the French Guard. It seemed Berthier had recruited him into his command when taking over the French Guard.
No wonder he performed so valiantly, blocking more than 3,000 Albanian mercenaries with just two companies. Was this an unexpected treasure?
He turned to Berthier. “Colonel, how do you plan to reward this Lieutenant Lefebvre?”
Berthier pondered for a moment. “He fought bravely and showed considerable skill in command. He’d already distinguished himself in previous exercises.
“Your Highness, he is eligible for the Silver Fleur-de-Lis Medal and promotion to captain.”
According to the military merit system Joseph had devised, medals were ranked from highest to lowest: Gold Fleur-de-Lis, Silver Fleur-de-Lis, and Bronze Fleur-de-Lis. These awards required specific contributions. For example, the Gold Fleur-de-Lis was reserved for actions that significantly altered the outcome of a battle, while the Silver Fleur-de-Lis was awarded for making a substantial impact on a campaign. Even the Bronze Fleur-de-Lis required significant contributions to a localized engagement.
This system was revolutionary for its time. Across Europe’s armies, medals were typically given only to noble officers. But in the Crown Prince’s Guards Corps, even a beggar or a logistics soldier could earn recognition for their contributions.
Each level of merit came with concrete rewards and benefits. Achievements were immediately rewarded with promotions, monetary bonuses, and even benefits for the soldier’s family.
Under such a system, how could any soldier not fight with zeal? How could morale not be high?
Joseph thought for a moment. “I think we should promote Lefebvre directly to major. The Guards Corps is in dire need of talent right now. Promising officers should be given opportunities.”
He was speaking the truth. When the Guards Corps was formed, recruitment had been limited to commoners and minor nobles, resulting in a severe shortage of mid- and senior-level officers. In this era of France, only wealthy nobles could afford the education necessary to become professional officers. Those without wealth or connections could only study peripheral subjects like cartography or engineering, facing slow promotions.
Thus, in the Guards Corps, many lieutenants had to serve as company commanders simply because there weren’t enough captains.
More importantly, Joseph was confident Lefebvre could handle the responsibilities of a major. After all, Napoleon himself had personally validated Lefebvre’s abilities through numerous campaigns.
Berthier nodded with a smile. “As you command, Your Highness.”
In the Guards Corps, the Crown Prince’s orders were absolute. However, Joseph was careful never to issue reckless commands, knowing that this was the foundation of his future power.
A staff officer joked, “Captain Davout’s glory may soon be overshadowed.”
Berthier chuckled. “He’s still young. Having someone outperform him might inspire him to grow faster.”
The future Marshal Davout had just turned 18 and graduated from military academy less than six months ago. After excelling in exercises, he had been promoted to lieutenant and assigned as an infantry company commander. During today’s battle, he had led his company in a bayonet charge, breaking the enemy’s formation under heavy fire and earning a promotion to captain.
Joseph sighed inwardly. Napoleon’s marshals were truly extraordinary. Give them the slightest opportunity, and they would immediately rise to prominence.
…
That Afternoon
By the afternoon, the Guards Corps had largely finished clearing the battlefield. Joseph personally presided over the ceremony for the collection and burial of the fallen soldiers. Of course, the specific religious rites were conducted by the accompanying chaplain.
In this battle, the Guards Corps and the cadets had lost a total of 89 men, with 70 others seriously injured.
Though not a significant number, given the lopsided nature of the engagement, it could certainly have been lower.
However, this was their first real combat experience. Joseph was confident that as their battlefield experience grew, they would perform even better in the future.
As the bodies of their comrades were carefully collected and laid to rest, and as the Crown Prince solemnly paid his respects to each one, the soldiers of the Guards Corps experienced a subtle shift in their feelings.
Previously, their emotions toward the Crown Prince had been largely characterized by gratitude and reliance. But now, after witnessing him face the battlefield alongside them, these feelings had transformed into admiration and reverence.
…
The Following Afternoon
By 5 p.m. the next day, the Guards Corps, still resting in place, was finally joined by the tardy Moulin Corps.
They were half a day behind schedule.
Inside the officers’ tent, André entered with a face full of guilt and saluted Joseph. “Your Highness, I deeply apologize for my delay.”
Joseph gestured for him to sit and asked, “Did something happen?”
André nodded awkwardly. “Your Highness, after leaving Tunis, our wine supplies never arrived. By the second day, there was a large outbreak of dysentery.”
He glanced out of the tent. “In fact, only about 2,600 of the Moulin Corps made it here. The rest were left behind due to the severity of their illnesses.”
The Moulin Corps had started with 3,000 men when they reached Tunis. This meant that in just four or five days, they had lost 13% of their force to dysentery!
Joseph frowned slightly. He knew that most of the population in Tunis adhered to Islam and typically did not drink alcohol, making wine difficult to procure. This also confirmed his doubts about the logistical support Tunis could provide.
Wine was a critical military supply during this era, primarily because its fermentation process killed most harmful bacteria, making it one of the safest ways for troops to stay hydrated.
Without wine after leaving Tunis, the Moulin Corps had resorted to drinking whatever water they could find in the wild, which had likely caused the dysentery outbreak.
Joseph reassured André and instructed him to settle his troops. There might be a battle the next day—according to captured Albanian mercenaries, the main force of the Algerian Guards was just ten kilometers away, roughly a day’s march.
A Surprising Discovery
After André left, a thought struck Joseph. He turned to Berthier and asked, “The Guards Corps didn’t experience a disruption in their wine supply, did they?”
“No, Your Highness. Like the Moulin Corps, we also ran out of wine after leaving Tunis.”
“Oh? Then why didn’t the Guards Corps have a dysentery outbreak?”
A staff officer promptly responded with admiration, “Your Highness, it’s all thanks to Dr. Perna. Previously, we had significant issues with dysentery as well, but she strictly required the soldiers to drink boiled water. That essentially solved the problem. Her actions might have saved this entire campaign.”
Joseph blinked. “Perna?”
Berthier clarified quietly, “That’s the male alias of Dr. Perna.”
“She’s here?”
Moments later, Perna entered the officers’ tent. She was dressed in a white military uniform, her long hair neatly tucked under a tricorn hat. She greeted Joseph and the others with a formal tip of her hat in the male fashion.
Joseph raised his hat slightly in return and asked curiously, “How did you come up with the idea to make the Guards Corps drink boiled water?”
Perna replied earnestly, “Your Highness, you taught me.”
“Me?”
“Yes. I recall you once explaining to my father that diseases are caused by bacteria entering the human body. Later, in Bordeaux, you mentioned to Mr. Vénio that bacteria die after half an hour in hot water.”
The young doctor took a deep breath and continued, “When soldiers in the Corps fell ill with dysentery, I remembered what you said and instructed them to boil water for half an hour before drinking it. Many of them recovered, while those who didn’t comply suffered for weeks.
“So, I concluded that your method was effective and made it mandatory for everyone to drink boiled water.”
Joseph was deeply impressed by her ability to apply knowledge creatively, though he couldn’t help but find her overly cautious—boiling water for half an hour wasn’t necessary.
Still, her approach had proven invaluable. If the Guards Corps had lost 13% of its soldiers to dysentery, the recent battle against the Albanian mercenaries would have been far more challenging.
Joseph also felt a pang of guilt. Such basic knowledge should have been disseminated to the troops beforehand. It was a stark reminder of how easy it was to overlook the obvious.
He nodded in appreciation. “You’ve done an excellent job, Dr. Perna. I think you deserve a medal for this.”
Perna quickly waved her hands. “Your Highness, I was only doing my duty as a doctor. There’s no need for such an honor. Honestly, I’m just grateful to be able to treat the soldiers in the Corps.”
Joseph suddenly remembered that, in civilian life, Perna often faced hostility when treating patients. Some even believed that having a female doctor was bad luck.
The soldiers in the Guards Corps, while aware of her disguise, had chosen to overlook it. The lack of doctors—let alone competent ones—meant they were grateful for anyone who could heal them. Even this small acceptance had made her content.
Joseph had an idea. “Dr. Perna, I’d like your help in establishing a field hospital for the Guards Corps.”
In this era, the vast majority of soldiers did not die on the battlefield but succumbed to infections and inadequate medical care after being wounded.
Although antibiotics had not yet been developed, a clean medical environment and regular disinfection of instruments could significantly reduce the risk of infections.
Perna, with her skill, meticulous nature, and passion for medicine, was the perfect person for the task.
Moreover, this would allow her to focus entirely on her beloved work, free from societal prejudices about her gender.
“A field hospital?” Perna asked, unfamiliar with the term.
“Yes!” Joseph nodded. “And the profession of nurse. You could establish that as well.”