The almost winter sun sets on the venereal plains that are bathed in fog. Its last rays, tinted with the liquid emerald of the legendary Green Ray, greet one last time the encampment of the Italian Army, this portion of the French army forgotten by almost everyone. And again, his young General-in-Chief is doing everything in his power to remember the good memory of the Management Board in Paris.
Yes, the Italian Army, the Armée du Sud, these brave "sacrificed" by the government of Paul Barras.
But, after all, isn't it there just to distract, to block part of the Austrian and Italian forces in the peninsula, to make it easier for the troops under the command of Generals Jourdan and Moreau to triumph over the Rhine and Moselle?
And that is how the Directors have always considered it.
Hence the fact, unacceptable, that they barely supply these brave men of the transalpine front...
Think about it...
Guns, balls and gunpowder are for the Rhine Army!
Shoes, uniforms and hats are for the Rhine Army!
The bread is for the Rhine Army!
The Rhine Army! The Rhine Army, the Rhine Army! Paris has eyes only for her! The one from Italy gets nothing but crumbs, at last... when there are crumbs, which is not always the case!
But then, what good is it to worry about for the ravenous people who must never know the glory that we expect more from German soil.
The young and new General-in-Chief of this brave emaciated soldier doesn't think, obviously, the same thing of his soldiers missing everything but courage and envy. 27 years old, this young man from Corsica and sunny town of Ajaccio intends to mark the History of his indelible footprint. And this is what Napoleon Bonaparte has been doing since his shattering entry into the Italian boot last year.
At the head of his hungry va-nu-pieds, the young Corsican has succeeded where so many others, older and more experienced, have so lamentably failed, damning the pawn even to his dear fellow followers who barely manage to keep a toe on the right bank of the river where Hagen threw the cursed treasure of the Niebelungen would be even five minutes! While Jourdan, the Winner of Fleurus, continues to lose against the troops of the foreign coalition, Bonaparte, the Winner of Toulon, triumphs over other troops of the same coalition, with remarkable speed, ignoring the number and armament of the enemy. He intrigues the people, both in Europe and America, he frightens the crowned heads.
Yes, let's think about it...
It took him barely fifteen days of fierce fighting to put the Italian Kingdom of Piedmont-Sardinia out of harm's way. Fifteen days! Whereas Napoleon's predecessors worked in vain for four years! This is a smoothly run business... It must be said, however, that between Montenotte and Mondovi, the modest kingdom of Victor-Amédée III took such blows of a razor's edge, such bottom knives, that it could only collapse and disappear from the scene, a little like the port of Lisbon during the 1755 earthquake, fourteen years before the birth of the one known as "General Vendémiaire", a nickname which he did not appreciate very much.
Austria, and by the same token the Holy Roman Empire, which Archduke Franz governs as Emperor, finds itself alone in the face of the irresistible French force, especially since Venice and the Holy See, engaged in this coalition born at the same time as the Republic and well paid for by this everlasting enemy of England, are beginning to retreat on the issue. Moreover, the proud Albion also hesitates to continue the fight since her vain attempt on Genoa last spring.
Yes, Vienna is now alone! Alone!!! Faced with the young French Caesar whom nothing seems to be able to stop, not even the eternal snows of the Alps or the stifling heat of summer.
The Australians tried to resist the French advance but the momentum of Bonaparte's men could not be held back and, inexorably, the men of Kaiser Franz retreat, leaving the stronghold of their suzerain in the hands of the Sons of the Revolution. Already, Piedmont and Lombardy were lost not only by the Piedmontese but also by the cream soldiers, names that Napoleon's men gave to their Austrian counterparts. All that remains is Veneto. If Bonaparte seizes it, crossing the Alps and breaking into Austrian territory will be easy for him.
That is why Franz had sent troops to reinforce those already present in the north of the Italian boot. But nothing did. Some of his men, commanded by the old Feld-Marschall Dagobert Von Würmser, ended up taking refuge in Mantua just two months ago, joining those who had already been there since the beginning of last summer. Marie-Antoinette's nephew seeks to rescue them, but the young Ajaccian with his eagle-like physique does not want to let him do it and intends to kill two birds with one stone by continuing his conquests.
This explains the presence of the Italian Army in this Venetian land, in this evening of the quartidi 24 brumaire, day of oranges according to the calendar used in France and coming from the first hours of the Republic. It has planted its bivouacs to the south of a village called San Bonifacio, not far from the swamps defending the