After besieging Tunis City from the north, west, and south, the Tunisian Rebel Forces had surrounded it for three days.
Gazing at the majestic Tunis City, Zemir, his expression stern, raised his hand and pointed at the Guard formation below, "Signal the attack, begin the final assault!"
The extended sound of bugles drifted across the miles surrounding the area, as more than ten Rebel Army formations quietly advanced forward under the command of their respective officers.
Koja, who was in charge of commanding the Imperial Guard to defend the city, stood in the highlands to the west of the city with a telescope in his hand, frowning and murmuring to himself:
"That damned fire... Is the great Guard really going to end here?"
If it were a normal skirmish, even if the rebels were twice the number of his own men, he would be confident in crushing them.
However, more than half a month ago, the munitions warehouse in Tunis City accidentally caught fire, which may have been set by the Berbers within the city.
In any case, more than 70% of the weapons in the warehouse were burned.
Previously, those Imperial Guard soldiers insisted on returning to live inside Tunis City and, because of the incident with the assassination attempt on the Bey, were not allowed to bring weapons into the city and had to store them in the warehouse.
After the fire, half of the soldiers faced a lack of weaponry and equipment.
It was at that time rebels from various places gradually obtained victories and began converging towards Tunis City.
The pampered high-ranking officers of the Guard inside the city, learning that the army lacked weapons, rolled up their valuables and fled towards Tripoli or Egypt, which also affected his soldiers.
"Less than a week, and over a thousand deserters. These cowardly wretches!"
Koja shook his head and sighed, "With over a hundred years of accumulation for the Guard, if we were firm and courageous in clearing out the rebels, how could we have ended up being surrounded in the city like this?"
"Pasha?" His adjutant, noticing him in a daze, hurriedly whispered to remind him, "The enemy is getting close."
Koja nodded and with a casual wave of his hand, ordered, "Fire the cannons."
"Yes, Pasha."
In front of the Tunisian Guard's defense line, around ten cannons roared as their shells, emitting shrill whistles, tore through the indigenous army's crowds.
"Ah—"
Amidst the screams, several bodies shattered by the cannonballs were blasted into chunks of flesh and sprays of blood, immediately causing additional chaos within the already disorderly ranks of the indigenous army.
Those native army officers, who were farmers and peddlers just a short while ago, desperately repressed their own fears, waving their sabers and shouting at their subordinates to maintain order: "Keep the formation!"
"Don't panic, and certainly don't retreat!"
"Don't freeze, keep moving forward!"
With their efforts, the advancing columns barely managed to keep pushing forward. However, the cannons of the Guard rang out again.
In fact, these solid cannonballs couldn't cause too much casualties. Even if they hit the military formation at the best angle, they could kill at most about ten people. In most cases, they would take one or two lives, or even miss entirely.
But the deafening sound of the cannons, along with the fear of being shattered by an unseen shell at any moment, were a severe test of the soldiers' willpower.
These native soldiers, who had received no formal training, completely lacked this capability.
After enduring four or five rounds of cannon fire, the majority of soldiers began uncontrollably turning and fleeing—especially those covered in blood and brain matter, who ran faster than anyone else.
The officers in charge of managing them, after a bout of yelling and cursing, found they couldn't control them at all and also started running back.
There were a few soldiers who, in a burst of fervor, charged towards enemy positions ready to fight to the death while shouting the Prophet and the Lord's noble names, only to be met with volleys of fire from the Imperial Guard.
Two days later.
Zemir listened with a gloomy expression as an officer reported the casualties to him, murmuring under his breath, "Over twenty thousand soldiers, a dozen assaults, and not even once could we get within fifty steps of the enemy..."
He had originally thought that, like the previous battles, they would quickly storm into Tunis City. Yet, in these two days, despite losing more than four hundred men, they hadn't even touched the first line of defense of the Guard.
"The cannons! It's all because of those damned cannons!" he suddenly burst out, furiously clenching his teeth, "If we had cannons, we would surely crush those devils!"
An officer next to him moved a couple of steps closer and whispered, "General, perhaps we could try asking Pasha Isaac."
After becoming the leader of the Rebel Army, the generous "Zaganos Bey" had reverted to his original name and became Pasha Isaac.
At twilight, the dimming light caused both sides to temporarily cease hostilities, and the soldiers returned to camp to prepare dinner.
Zemir, accompanied by several main officers, went to the residence of the Rebel Army leader, Pasha Isaac.
"Cannons?" Isaac frowned and shook his head, "Such things are not easy to come by."
Zemir pleaded anxiously, "Pasha, the enemy's cannons pose a great threat to us. If we do not have equivalent weapons, I fear it will be difficult to achieve victory. Please, you must think of a way..."
"Currently, only the French in all of Tunisia have cannons," Isaac pondered and shook his head, "It's just, this is a grudge between us Tunisians and the Ottoman Imperial Guard, and it doesn't really involve them. They might not be willing to help."
Zemir immediately responded, "How can this not involve them? We are all Roman Compatriots of the same faith. I believe they will not stand by and do nothing!"
The officers beside him nodded and echoed in agreement.
Isaac appeared to be persuaded by them, and with reluctance said, "Alright then, let's go try our 'Roman Compatriots'."
"That's right, it would be best if we could ask Elder Aly to join us. His exceptional prestige should be of help."
"Alright, I will personally beg him!"
The following day, a Tunisian native "delegation" of over ten people arrived at the location of the Guard Corps, where Bertier warmly received them.
Elder Aly was now the religious leader of the Tunisian natives and had gained immense prestige and status during this uprising. Regardless of whether he was initially willing, he was now firmly tied to the interests of the Rebel Army and had long since stopped pursuing the matter of someone using his name to issue prophecies.
On the contrary, he was now actively advocating for the interests of the Rebel Army.
After he represented the Rebel Army and explained the difficulties they faced and requested "compatriots" to help, Bertier also sincerely said to him, "Rest assured, we will definitely do our best to help with the suffering of our compatriots.
"Not just with cannons, I can also send officers to help you command the battle. I believe their experience will certainly be very useful."
This was also a part of Joseph's plan. It was to make the Tunisian natives understand that the Imperial Guard was not defeated by their own strength. Without the "Roman Compatriots" assistance, they would not have been able to achieve victory.
Upon hearing this, Zemir was immediately moved to tears and was the first to excitedly bow deeply: "We will never forget your kindness! We won't forget the assistance of our French compatriots!"
The accompanying officers and several of the most prestigious native clan leaders also followed in saluting Bertier, repeating their sincere thanks over and over again.
Outside Tunis City.
Two artillery platoons of the Guard Corps had already mounted six eight-pound cannons in the preset position, with ammunition boxes neatly arranged in rows not far behind.
"Load the cannon!"
"Aim!"
Under the command of each cannon's chief, the artillerymen completed their firing preparations skillfully.
"Fire!"
After a roar, six cannonballs flew straight towards the Imperial Guard's artillery position.
With the inclusion of the Guard Corps' cannons, the situation on the battlefield immediately took a drastic turn.
Although they had fewer cannons than the enemy, the level of their artillerymen was streets ahead of the Ottoman People.
After a few rounds of simple ranging shots, a cannonball accurately hit an enemy cannon more than 700 paces away.
The huge impact force of the cannonball flipped the barrel off its carriage, crushing several Tunisian gunners behind it, and finally landing on rocks more than 20 meters away. The cannon was now deformed and rendered useless.
As cannonballs continued to fall near the Imperial Guard's artillery position, the Ottoman Artillerymen were so frightened that they scattered and fled without even bothering to drag their cannons away.
"Thank God!" Upon seeing this through his binoculars, Zemir was overjoyed and turned to an officer beside him, "Signal the order, prepare for a full frontal assault by all troops!"
"It may not be appropriate for you to attack in such a hurry," the accompanying French officer immediately stopped him.
"Ah? What do you suggest?"
The French officer didn't explain much to Zemir but directly bypassed him, having his orderly officer issue a series of commands consecutively.
Flag signalers continuously waved flags, and the French mid-level officers began rapidly mobilizing the Rebel Army units.
On the western front, a thin line of infantry columns slowly advanced towards the Imperial Guard's position—with the threat of the enemy's cannons gone, their steps became much steadier.
At the same time, dozens of Rebel Army columns appeared on the south side of the Imperial Guard's defensive line, quickly moving towards their flank. The French artillerymen also turned their cannons and began assisting bombardment on the Imperial Guard's flank.
"What are they trying to do?" Koja put away his binoculars, surprised in his heart. The rebels hadn't fired for several days, so how come they suddenly started fighting with strategy?
He swiftly analyzed the situation, feeling that the enemy force in front was just a diversion and that the main attack direction was his own left flank.
So, he immediately turned to his adjutant and said, "Signal the order, move Orhan's men to the left flank to strengthen the defense."
"Yes, Pasha!"
Orhan's thousand men, previously positioned in the front formation, received orders and hastily formed ranks, moving to the left flank.
At that moment, a rebel army of four to five thousand men appeared on the Imperial Guard's right wing, forming an infantry line of six rows front to back, slowly pressing towards them.
Koja was instantly alarmed and muttered, frowning, "These cunning fellows, it seems this is their main force!"
He immediately detached more than five hundred men from the front and also sent half of the reserve corps to the right wing. He moved the command post to the north side as well to facilitate command at any moment.
However, the rebel infantry on both wings never advanced within firing range. Instead, a cavalry unit of more than three hundred men suddenly emerged, seizing upon the chaos in the Imperial Guard's front troops caused by frequent maneuvers, and swiftly galloped towards their several artillery positions.
These horsemen, composed of nomads, although ignorant of formation and slashing techniques, were still quite adept in horsemanship.
They approached the Imperial Guard's cannons at great speed and dismounted.
The leading officer, following the orders received earlier, commanded loudly to his men:
"Mehmet, take your men and destroy the cannons! Everyone else, be on guard around, and watch out for enemy infantry!"
"Yes!"
More than forty soldiers immediately brandished their scimitars and formed a defensive line around, remaining alert. Around ten others surrounded the cannons, inserting previously prepared spikes into the touch holes and hammered them down forcefully.
These iron spikes were extremely difficult to remove, and a cannon with a blocked touch hole was immediately rendered useless.
After completing these tasks, they leaped back into their saddles and returned to their own camp like the wind.
Dozens of minutes later, the rebel army on all three sides withdrew successively without engaging in battle with the Imperial Guard. It was only then that Koja finally received a report from his subordinates and learned that his cannons had been destroyed by the rebel troops.
Zemir was dumbfounded by the command of the French officer—it was almost without direct combat, the casualties were negligible, and it took just over half an hour to eliminate all of the Imperial Guard's cannons!
It was almost on par with the warlord Saladin[1]!
If he had known there were such capable compatriots, why would he need to command blindly himself? Perhaps the Imperial Guard robbers would have been driven out of Tunisia years ago!
If the French officer knew his thoughts, he probably would feel somewhat chagrined. These were just common tactics he had often seen in training at the Paris Police Academy, just arranged according to the battlefield situation, yet now he was being "promoted" to a "warlord"...
Having lost their cannons, the Imperial Guard became extremely passive.
The rebels kept bombarding them with cannons, causing casualties that were not significant but the blow to their morale was extremely severe. After all, anyone facing a situation where they could only be hit without being able to fight back would find it hard to keep from collapsing.
Finally, after being tormented by cannons for five days, Koja, before morale completely dissipated, gathered all his troops and launched a desperate breakout battle against the rebels.
On the other side, the rebel army had long since formed an extremely dense defensive formation under the orders of the French commander.
These native soldiers, though not of high military quality, were still capable of firing their guns while standing in place.
Taking advantage of their great numerical superiority and with artillery support from behind, they faced the enemy's frantic counterattack and heroically pushed them back with concentrated fire.
In the rear of the position, the French officer looked through his binoculars at the scene and let out a long sigh of relief.
He had also prepared a reserve force of more than 3,000 men behind, just in case these new recruits were breached by the enemy.
"It looks like, they can still be trusted," the officer said with a smile, turning to the orderly officer beside him, "or perhaps, the enemy's attack was too slow."
Upon hearing the officer's words translated to him, Zemir approached respectfully and said, "No, respected Pasha, I believe, it's all thanks to your superb command!"
[1]Saladin: Saladin bin Ayyub (1137–1193), a Kurd, was a distinguished military and political leader of the medieval period and the founder of the Ayyubid dynasty in Egypt. He became famous in the Christian and Muslim worlds for his military prowess and leadership in the Islamic resistance to the Crusades.
In the West, he is celebrated as a monarch with the "gentlemanly qualities of a knight"; while in Egypt and the Arab world, he is honored as a "national hero."