Battles

The Battle of Bad Sausagehausen

Under the assault of the furious Frenchmen, the outnumbered Austrian cavalry simply broke.   One entire unit just disappeared under the pounding French hooves.    The remnants of the other unit fled east, away from the terrible scene of carnage.   The trumpets sounded and the French cavalry reined in their horses, managing to to control their instinct to pursue.   There was still work to be done.

In Bad Sausagehausen casualties mounted among both sides as the musket fire continued unabated.   The French guns had long since unlimbered and their 8 lb balls were mercilessly crashing into the town, knocking holes through the walls and barricades.   It was too much to bear - suddenly the battalion of Jagers withdrew from the town perimeter, shaken and disordered.

With a cry, the French attack columns poured into Bad Sausagehausen.   The Jagers had rallied into a skirmish line and were sniping away at the massed French, but they were steadily pushed back.   But help was at hand - at their backs the bridge had finally been successfully cleared of obstacles and the first Austrian battalion rushed into the town to shore up the tired Jagers.

Wolfgang, the new Austrian recruit, stood up, watching the crest of the hill to the south.   "Do you hear hooves, Hans?" he asked the soldier lying on the ground beside him.    Hans didn't deign to reply.    A line of horse suddenly appeared over the skyline.    "Hans!   Hans!    There's cavalry there!   Look!" shouted the excited Wolfgang.    Hans lazily opened an eye.    "Of course there is, dummkopf.    That's our own prettyboys coming back from a patrol.   Remember them heading that way this morning?"

Wolfgang stopped to think about this.  Although an eager soldier, it must be admitted that the midwife's clumsiness during Wolfgang's delivery had resulted in some slower thought processes after dropping him on his head.   Several minutes passed while the cavalry mass slowly ambled down the hill.   Wolfgang scratched his head.    "But Hans," he began, "should they be unfurling a Tricolour?"

The French cavalry, flushed with victory, poured over the hill and into the flank of the Austrian marching columns.   The Austrian guns, pretty much forgotten by everyone, burst into action against the French horse, but to no effect.   The Austrian infantry, caught by surprise had no chance to form into square.    It was a bloodbath.   The marching ranks instantly dissolved into a screaming mass of routers.

Outnumbered in the town, their escape route now cut off, the poor survivors in Bad Sausagehausen began throwing their weapons down and raising their arms to surrender.

It was a decisive French victory!

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