From Corsica to the Fourth Rome

"What did you say?!"

The British commander listened in disbelief to a non-commissioned officer who had just returned from the front line reporting the situation to him, and trembled angrily:

"You mean there are French and Corsican troops on the island of Malta?! How is this possible? When did they garrison troops in Malta! And how could they suddenly think of garrisoning troops in Malta!"

However, as more and more dispersed soldiers gathered at the docks of Valletta Port, the commander had to believe the fact that they had been put together by the Corsicans and the French.

This surprise attack was doomed to fail from the moment they docked. The Cofa coalition, which was three times their own strength and well prepared, destroyed any possibility of the British army to seize the island of Malta in a surprise attack.

"Damn Corsicans!"

The British commander clenched his fists in anger. He had no idea why the Corsicans and French would appear in Malta.

Even as the commander of the surprise attack, he only received the news at the end of September that his Griffin team would carry out the mission of raiding the island of Malta.

How could those Corsicans and French get the news earlier than myself, the frontline commander? !

Could it be that the Governor of Corsica was a psychic and divination person?

And how could the old diehards of the Knights allow the Corsican and French armies to station such a large number of troops in their core residence, the Malta Fortress Group? The commander thought hard for a long time but had no clue.

But compared to finding out the truth of this series of questions, the commander is currently facing a more serious problem.

How to withstand the enemy's fierce counterattack with less than a thousand troops at hand.

From the soldiers who had just returned to the port, the commander learned that the Kufa coalition had successfully advanced to the outskirts of the port and was ready to push the red shirts into the sea at any time.

"Sir!" His adjutant looked anxiously at the deserters pouring towards the port and said through gritted teeth:

"Judging from the reports of the frontline soldiers, the number of French and Corsican troops is at least 2,000. With our current morale and strength, we can only choose to retreat!"

The red shirt soldiers who were rushing towards the dock had long lost the idea of ​​resisting. Their commanders told them before the attack that this was an extremely easy raid. They faced most of the Even just those unarmed civilians.

The red-shirted soldiers thought they were wolves in sheep's clothing, but they didn't expect that they would plunge into a pride of lions.

The commander looked back at the two merchant ships anchored in the port and the rough Mediterranean Sea in the thunderstorm, then looked at the soldiers who were still escaping towards the port, and ordered with difficulty:

"Let the soldiers start boarding the ship and prepare to retreat!"

Another adjutant frowned and asked, "Sir, what about the soldiers who haven't arrived at the port yet?"

The British commander gritted his teeth and shook his head, then walked towards the ship without looking back, leaving only one sentence:

"They can only pray that the monks of the Knights have a tradition of treating prisoners well."

As soon as the order to board the ship and retreat was given, the red-shirted soldiers rushed to the dock, fearing that they would be left as prisoners of the Knights on this desolate island because of their slow movements.

The chaos on the pier was like a pot of porridge. Several soldiers even fought over the order of boarding. Many people even fell into the cold and biting sea water because they pushed each other on the bridge.

If they hadn't been wearing these bright red and white uniforms, I'm afraid no one would associate this army with the famous Red Shirt Army of Great Britain.

This chaos lasted for more than 20 minutes. The soldiers on the port dock had basically completed boarding the ship. This speed was more than a little slower than the speed of disembarkation when they launched the raid.

At this time, the French and Corsican armies also drove the last part of the British soldiers to attack the port of Valletta.

Looking at the French army in his field of vision, even though the British commander already knew of their existence, seeing the familiar blue and white uniforms still made him furious. Without the interference of these French people, this raid would have been completed. It is completely possible to defeat the Knights of Malta without even realizing it.

The British commander also knew that it was absolutely impossible to organize an effective attack just by relying on the defeated soldiers under his own command. Even if the evacuation was not timely, more than a thousand soldiers on this trip would end up on this small Mediterranean island.

He looked at the French army approaching the dock and ordered harshly:

"Weigh anchor immediately! Raise full sail and leave the harbor at maximum speed!"

The last batch of British soldiers fled to the port with great hope, thinking that they could find shelter in this temporary headquarters. However, at this moment, they could only watch in despair as the two merchant ships that carried them to Malta weighed anchor and left the port. Soon, they sailed into the boundless sea fog, blown by the roaring sea wind.

Staring blankly at the two ships disappearing into the sea fog, the remaining British soldiers in the port completely gave up the idea of ​​resistance and chose to lay down their weapons and surrender to the Knights.

More than an hour later, on the wave surface more than 40 nautical miles away from the island of Malta

In order to prevent the knights on the island of Malta from noticing anything unusual, Colonel Mohan specially commanded the gryphon detachment to anchor in this shallow water and quietly wait for the vanguard troops to launch a surprise attack to occupy the island of Malta.

In Colonel Mohan's plan, these pioneer troops can at least occupy the island's port terminals and some fortresses. This will also allow Colonel Mohan to directly park the entire fleet in Valletta Port and easily dispatch the main land force. The team completely destroyed the island's resistance.

At this time, inside the captain's room of the Saint-Denis.

The thick fog on the sea has gradually faded with the movement of rain clouds and the blowing of the storm, but it is still difficult to see the outline of Malta Island in the fog from this distance.

Dense raindrops, aided by the storm, pounded heavily on the portholes of the captain's cabin, making a series of endless and annoying crackling sounds.

The rough waves kept hitting the hull, causing even Captain Mohan, a naval officer who had always lived on the water, to feel dizzy and uncomfortable.

Colonel Mohan turned his head and glanced out the porthole. It was so dark that nothing could be seen except the bright lights of other ships in the fleet.

"Humph" he took out his pocket watch, took a look at it, and said to the adjutant opposite him with some dissatisfaction:

"It has been three hours since the vanguard launched the assault. They should have occupied most of Malta's strategic points. Damn it, I am required to send out a detachment to carry out such a simple task. What do those guys in the Admiralty think?"

The adjutant raised his head cautiously and glanced at the angry Colonel Mohan. As an adjutant who had followed Mohan for many years, he certainly knew why his commander was so dissatisfied.

In Colonel Mohan's view, seizing a small island like Malta did not require a squadron commander like himself to personally execute it.

Sending two third-level ships and a few escort cruisers is enough. Letting myself lead the entire Griffin squadron to besiege them is a complete overkill.

This made Captain Mohan feel that these guys in the Navy were targeting, ostracizing, and even humiliating him. He felt that as a fleet commander, his ability was only enough to carry out such an outrageously simple task as attacking the island of Malta.

It is no wonder that during the entire mission, Colonel Mohan complained constantly and greeted the mother of the Admiralty official every day.

"Uh." The adjutant glanced at Colonel Mohan and cautiously consoled him:

"Sir, I heard that the Admiralty has attached great importance to Malta recently. It can not only become another naval base for us in the Mediterranean, but also the hub of the Mediterranean-Egypt-East India trade route. Moreover, it is said that No. 10 Downing Street recently The focus of the mission is on the Western Mediterranean, and the importance of the island of Malta is self-evident. I think the Navy Department asked you to command this mission out of its trust in your outstanding talents.”

After listening to the adjutant's consolation, Colonel Mohan's face improved slightly, but he still waved his hands and gritted his teeth and said:

"It's not like I don't know about this kind of thing. I really don't know how No. 10 Downing Street has diverted its attention away from America. Who knows what those adults are planning. Humph, especially the beasts in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who sit in formal clothes We talked loudly at the long table and proposed shady plots, but in the end it was not us soldiers who carried them out. "

The adjutant lowered his head and said nothing more.

Military attachés despise civilian officials, and civilian officials suppress military attachés. This tradition has continued in Britain for hundreds of years, especially in the domineering Royal Navy. There are many soldiers like Colonel Mohan who look down on civilian officials.

Just when Colonel Mohan was about to continue his accusation against the British civil service system, the noncommissioned officer on duty on the upper deck suddenly burst in with a panic look.

The noncommissioned officer was all wet. As soon as he entered the door, he didn't even have time to wipe the rain off his face, and he quickly reported to Colonel Mohan:

"We found two merchant ships approaching the left side of the fleet, sir! We have determined that they are the vanguard troops we sent to the island of Malta!"

Colonel Mohan and his adjutant did not react, as if the sergeant did not speak English. They were stunned for a long time without saying a word.

How could the vanguard troops sent to Malta show up here? They should have occupied the island of Malta at this time and are counting the prisoners and loot!

Even if, to say the least, the surprise attack of the vanguard force did not go as smoothly as imagined, then they should be able to stick to the fortress and port and wait for Colonel Mohan to lead the main force of the fleet to the island of Malta.

In Colonel Mohan's plan, there was no way those two damn cargo ships would appear in such a place at such a time.

"What did you say?!"

Colonel Mohan suddenly had veins popping up on his forehead. He jumped up from his seat like a spring and cursed loudly:

"These losers! Cowards! Why don't they stay on the island of Malta?"

The sergeant lowered his head obediently, shuddered, and said quickly:

"Sir, I saw their commander paddling towards the Saint-Denis in a small boat. Maybe you can ask him personally."

"He'd better give me an explanation." Colonel Mohan clenched his fists tightly, wishing he could punch that incompetent commander in the head right now.

More than twenty minutes later, the commander of the British vanguard climbed onto the deck with the help of sailors from the Saint-Denis.

He took off the black three-cornered hat on his head and tucked it under his arm. He stood at the door of the captain's cabin and hesitated for a long time before knocking on the cabin door.

"Get in here!"

Before the door opened, Colonel Mohan's furious roar could be heard inside.

The commander took a deep breath, gently pushed open the hatch, and saluted with a deformed military salute.

"Tell me, why don't you stick to the island of Malta and wait for the main force of the fleet to arrive!" Before the commander could put down his saluting right hand, Colonel Mohan roared again:

"I really admire your courage and dare to come back to see me. If I were you, I would kill myself in Valletta Port with the saber on your waist!"

The commander of the vanguard gritted his teeth and closed his eyes to report:

"Sir, we were ambushed by French and Corsican troops on the island of Malta."

"So what! You loser, did you only learn to eat with a knife and fork at the Royal Naval Academy? Wait, what did you say?"

Colonel Mohan was still cursing. It was not until a few seconds later that he suddenly realized what the commander had said. He immediately frowned and asked:

"French army and Corsican army? Are you fucking insane and hallucinating after being beaten by the knights? How could they set up an ambush on the island of Malta? Even we only received the attack order at the end of September. ”

After saying that, Colonel Mohan immediately looked at each other with his adjutant, their eyes full of confusion and confusion.

"And why is it the Corsican army?" Colonel Mohan sat back on his chair. The face of Laurence Bonaparte he had seen in Ajaccio flashed in his mind, and he murmured to himself with a pale face:

"Is it that young man again? He set a trap on the island of Malta and let us step into it like ignorant lambs. We are full of ugliness!"

The adjutant glanced at Colonel Mohan and suggested cautiously:

"Colonel, since there are French troops stationed on Malta, maybe we have to retreat first and report to the Admiralty before making a decision."

Before he finished speaking, Colonel Mohan turned his head and stared at his adjutant fiercely, and asked fiercely:

"You mean to tell me to go back and tell those idiots at the Admiralty and all my colleagues in the Royal Navy that I led an entire squadron of gryphons and failed to capture even a single island of Malta?"

"I" the adjutant couldn't help trembling, swallowed hard, and said incoherently:

"I'm just worried that fighting with the French army will further expand this conflict, and then No. 10 Downing Street and the palace will blame you."

Hearing this, Colonel Mohan took a deep breath and fell into deep thought.

After a while of silence, he suddenly shook his head and said:

"No, France has never stated that it will provide protection to the Knights. In addition, there is a Corsican army on the island. This must be the independent decision of Lawrence Bonaparte. He certainly did not get Louis XV or Shu Vasseur's instructions; eighty percent of the French troops on the island are also French troops stationed on Corsica. Damn it, I was fooled by that yellow-haired boy. "

After that, Colonel Mohan did not ask the adjutant or the commander for their opinions. He just nodded to himself, stood up and ordered:

"Pass my order, the entire fleet sails to the island of Malta, let this damn island, and those damn French and Corsicans, all be drowned in artillery fire!"