Reincarnated as Napoleon



"What's happening..." Murad Bey's voice trembled with disbelief as he witnessed his men being cut down mercilessly by the onslaught of French forces. The air filled with the deafening roar of explosions as modern war machines unleashed their devastating power upon his troops.

A haunting whistle pierced the chaos, signaling the approach of a deadly projectile hurtling through the air. Murad Bey's heart sank as he saw the explosion upon impact, sending shockwaves through his army. The ground shook violently, and clouds of sand erupted into the air, adding to the disorienting chaos.

To his right, the cavalrymen, brave and valiant, charged forward, desperately attempting to break through the French ranks. But their efforts were met with a ruthless barrage from a terrifying weapon, the very same one the scout had described in Cairo just a week ago. Murad Bey watched in horror as his men fell, their bodies torn apart by the merciless hail of bullets from the French's modern machine guns and bolt-action repeating rifles.

In a mere fifteen minutes, his proud force of sixteen thousand soldiers had been decimated, reduced to a fraction of its former strength. The battlefield was strewn with lifeless bodies and echoes of anguish.

"Murad Pasha!" His adjutant's voice broke through the chaos, his face pale with shock. "We cannot hold the line any longer. We must order a retreat before it's too late."

Murad Bey's mind raced, grappling with the gravity of the situation. The trauma of the relentless bombardment and the sight of his once-mighty army being torn apart by these unfamiliar weapons overwhelmed him. He knew he had to make a difficult decision.

With a heavy heart, Murad Bey finally gave the order for his remaining forces to retreat, desperately trying to salvage what was left of his shattered army. The ground beneath them still quaked from the ferocity of the explosions, and the air was thick with smoke and the stench of death.

As they retreated, the devastation and loss weighed heavily on Murad Bey's shoulders. The French had brought not only their superior weapons but also a brutal and traumatizing form of warfare that shattered the traditional strategies and defenses of the Mamluks. The realization of the overwhelming technological advantage possessed by the French forces left a profound impact on Murad Bey, as he witnessed the destruction and loss of his men firsthand.

"Are we fighting a monster? We can't even go near them," his adjutant remarked harrowingly, as they spurred away from the battlefield. Despite Murad Bey signaling a retreat, it turned into a rout. The French war machines relentlessly pursued the disoriented Mamluk soldiers, causing further chaos and destruction.

Regret weighed heavily on Murad Bey as he reflected on his decision to meet the French forces who had taken Alexandria. He had dismissed the scout's reports as mere exaggerations, believing that the French's capabilities were overblown. However, the moment the French unleashed their full might upon his army, Murad Bey's regret intensified, and he realized the gravity of his mistake. The scout's reports had not been exaggerations; they had merely scratched the surface of the devastating power possessed by the French war machines. The reality of the situation now struck him with full force, and he could no longer deny the overwhelming superiority of the enemy he faced.

"I have to go back to Cairo... I have to go back..." Murad Bey stammered.

Meanwhile, on the opposite side. Napoleon watched as the Ottoman forces under the command of Murad Bey ran amok in retreat. No, it can't be called a retreat as it was too disorganized. The French forces also watched with jubilation as they saw their enemy once proudly marching towards them not running with horror.

"Should we pursue them, General Bonaparte?" Murat asked, lowering his spyglass.

"Of course we should but this is also the perfect moment to test our new artillery weapon," Napoleon grinned and then hopped off his camel.

He walked over towards the rear where French artillerymen were hauling the heavy 155mm cannons into position with their horses.

Napoleon approached the artillerymen and inspected the cannons. He nodded in satisfaction as he saw that the artillery was in good condition.

"You guys, this will be the day where you'll earn experience firing these weapons. You studied the theoretical aspects, and now it's time to put that knowledge into practice," Napoleon declared.

The artillery listened intently to their commander's words. They knew the importance of this moment, the opportunity to showcase the true power of their cannons and demonstrate the might of the French artillery.

Napoleon's gaze shifted towards the distant retreating Mamluk forces, their figures growing smaller on the horizon.

"That's our target. Now, our current cannons, the Canon de 12 Gribeauval, won't be able to reach that far due to their limited range. But with these new artillery, even if the Mamluks were over five kilometers from us, we would still reach them."

A wave of gasped admiration swept through the ranks of the artillerymen as they absorbed Napoleon's words. They had been eagerly awaiting the chance to demonstrate the true potential of their newly acquired weapons, and now the opportunity had presented itself.

Napoleon approached one of the 155mm howitzers and motioned for the artillerymen to gather around, eager to provide a practical demonstration.

"Listen carefully," Napoleon began. "Firing this 155mm howitzer requires precision and coordination."

The artillerymen stood at attention, their eyes fixed on their commander, ready to absorb every word and instruction.

Napoleon gestured toward the various components of the howitzer, explaining their purpose and function. He demonstrated how the breechblock worked, allowing the insertion and extraction of the ammunition. He emphasized the importance of maintaining a steady aim and adjusting the elevation and azimuth to accurately target the enemy.

He was doing it in the middle of the battle, displaying his chadness to the troops.

After ten minutes, the crew of the artillery began firing preparations in accordance with the instruction and the manual they read over and over in the past few days.

Within a minute, they inserted a 155mm high explosive shell into the breech of the howitzer.

"Steady now," Napoleon called out. "Take aim!"

The artillerymen adjusted the elevation and azimuth, aligning the howitzer with the retreating Mamluk forces in the distance.

"Fire!" Napoleon's voice rang out, and the crew swiftly pulled the lanyard, initiating the firing sequence.

A thunderous boom reverberated through the battlefield as the 155mm howitzer unleashed its fury. The ground shook, and a plume of smoke and dust erupted from the muzzle, obscuring the crew momentarily.

The French lines were momentarily disoriented by the sudden thundering noise that pierced the air. But as the smoke cleared, the devastating impact of the artillery shell became evident. The explosion tore through the ranks of the retreating Mamluk forces, the fragmentation from the high explosive shell cutting through the air with lethal precision. The blast sent Mamluks flying, dismembered bodies scattered messily on the sandy ground.

"Again!" Napoleon's command echoed across the battlefield.

The artillerymen swiftly reloaded the howitzer and gave Napoleon a thumbs up, indicating that they were ready to fire.

"Fire!" The command thundered through the air, and the crew pulled the lanyard without hesitation.

Another explosion erupted from the howitzer, followed by a devastating shockwave that rippled through the battlefield. The Mamluk ranks were further decimated, the shells tearing through their disorganized formations with deadly accuracy. The carnage was unimaginable, and the survivors were gripped with terror as their comrades fell around them.

Napoleon's expression remained resolute as he observed the destructive power of the artillery. He knew that victory was within reach, and he seized the opportunity to press the advantage.

"Again!" he commanded again.

The French artillerymen executed the order with unwavering determination, repeatedly firing shell after shell with relentless precision. Each explosion sent shockwaves through the Mamluk forces, resulting in a staggering loss of life. In each volley, approximately 600 lives were claimed due to the close proximity of the Mamluk soldiers to one another.

Despite the possibility of survival by dispersing and moving away, the chaos and terror induced by the relentless barrage made it difficult for anyone to think clearly. The devastating firepower unleashed upon them made it nearly impossible to devise an effective escape plan.

Over the course of thirty minutes, a total of approximately 150 shells were launched from the five 155mm howitzers. Murad Bey's forces had dwindled to a mere three thousand soldiers, signifying a significant reduction from their initial strength. The engagement with the French had resulted in the loss of approximately thirteen thousand of his men, an overwhelming toll on the Mamluk army.

Another volley was fired again, and Murad could hear its terrifying whistle. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes widening with horror as the incoming shells closed in on him. In that fateful moment, time seemed to slow down. Murad Bey knew he had no chance to escape the impending explosion.

The deafening blast consumed the battlefield, engulfing Murad Bey in a swirling vortex of destruction. His body was torn apart by the force of the explosion, his life was extinguished in an instant.

"Check fire," Napoleon halted the salvo and peered through his spyglass. Although obscured, Napoleon confirmed that Murad Bey got caught.

For history, this is a huge implication, no Murad Bey means no guerilla warfare in Upper Egypt, securing their hold in Egypt at almost certainty.

"Okay, now we pursue," Napoleon ordered as he walked over to his camel, mounting it again. "Our next step will be Cairo."

The Battle of Shubra Khit was a complete victory of the French Army against the Mamluks. French casualties…zero.