Commander-in-Chief of the Forces, the Duke of York, Prince Frederick was on a horse, peering through his spyglass, watching the French on the other side of the river.
"Fire!" Frederick shouted and the cannons positioned along the banks of the River Thames roared to life. Enormous plumes of smoke billowed from the cannons as they sent their iron projectiles hurtling toward the French forces on the opposite bank.
"Return fire!" Napoleon ordered, and his own artillery crews quickly sprang into action. French cannons, strategically positioned along the South Bank, fired back at the British forces with precision.
The Battle of the River Thames had escalated into a brutal exchange of artillery fire. Cannonballs roared through the sky, tearing through buildings, and wreaking havoc on both sides of the river. Smoke and dust shrouded the battlefield, making it difficult for either side to see their targets clearly.
Prince Frederick, observing from his vantage point, knew that this was a pivotal moment in the battle. The fate of London hung in the balance, and the French had to be repelled at all costs.
"Reload and fire!" he shouted again, urging his artillery crews to maintain their barrage on the French positions.
On the South Bank, Napoleon watched as the British artillery continued to pound his forces. He tapped his foot impatiently as the thing he had been waiting for wasn't happening.
"Berthier!" Napoleon called.
"Your Excellency?"
"How long will it take for our howitzers to fire?" Napoleon demanded.
"About a minute, Your Excellency," Berthier replied.
Napoleon nodded, his eyes fixed on the British positions. A minute could feel like an eternity in the midst of a battle, but he knew the importance of this next move. The British artillery was causing significant damage to his forces, and he needed to neutralize it.
***
Fourteen kilometers south of London, twenty 155mm howitzers were loaded with high explosive shells.
"Artillery is armed and ready!" the artillery crews informed their officers.
"On my command," the artillery officer checked his watch. "Fire!"
The twenty 155mm howitzers unleashed their destructive power. Explosive shells rocketed into the air, leaving behind trails of smoke and fire.
***
Twenty-five seconds later, back at the South Bank, there was a brief but tense silence that hung in the air as both French and British forces strained to hear the ominous whistling and shrilling sound that pierced the battlefield. The soldiers on both sides, their hearts pounding with anticipation, looked upward, their eyes searching for any sign of what was to come.
Then, with a deafening crescendo, the first of the high-explosive shells fired from the French howitzers detonated among the British positions on the North Bank. The impact was devastating, sending shockwaves rippling through the area. Buildings were reduced to rubble, and a wall of dust and debris billowed into the sky.
The British artillery crews, who had been relentlessly bombarding the French forces just moments ago, now found themselves under a relentless bombardment of their own. Their cannons were overturned, their emplacements destroyed, and chaos reigned among the gunners.
Prince Frederick, horse's hooves pounding against the earth, galloped away from the chaos of the artillery exchange.
"Retreat! Take cover!" Prince Frederick's command echoed across the North Bank of the River Thames as his remaining forces scrambled to withdraw from the devastating barrage of French howitzers.
Napoleon, observing the disarray among the British forces, smiled gleefully. "God favors the side with the best artillery. We will continue to bomb their positions, specifically, the forces defending the bridge. When they retreat, we are going to cross it."
The howitzers fired for about thirty minutes, reducing the city into rubble.
"What a waste," Napoleon sighed pitifully. London was one of the beautiful cities that he admired in his past life, but seeing it in this state pains him a little.
But the late eighteenth century was different from London's nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Most of the iconic structures such as the London Bridge and Big Ben.
***
Meanwhile, on the North Bank. Frederick dismounted on his horse and went inside one of the buildings where the command center was situated.
"General Wellington," Frederick called.
"Your Highness," Wellington said as he walked towards him. "Thank god you are alive. That's the French artillery that I'm telling you about."
"Yeah…I witnessed it firsthand," Frederick said, his hands visibly shaking. "I didn't expect it to be that powerful. Building obliterated in an instant."
The building they were in shuddered as another French shell struck nearby, showering them with dust
"It's only a matter of time before the French enter the North Bank," Frederick sighed in exasperation.
"Don't forget about the explosives that we planted on the only bridges that would deny them entry. But it'll only take us hours. For that, we have to consider a strategic retreat. We are thinking of Southampton," Wellington said.
Frederick clicked his tongue. "Retreat? No, this is where we will make our stand, General Wellington. We'll fight till the end to protect this capital."
"Your Highness, you cannot die here; you have to live so you can continue to lead our forces."
"General, we cannot allow London to fall into French hands. If we must make our stand here, so be it. We'll hold the line until every last soldier and citizen has given their all," Frederick said firmly.
As they were having a tense exchange, an officer approached them.
"Your Highness, General, a telegram from Edinburgh."
Wellington took the telegram and quickly unfolded it.
"Your Highness, you need to see this," Wellington said, passing the telegram to Frederick.
Frederick took the telegram and quickly read its contents, his face turning pale.
"It's from Edinburgh," Frederick began solemnly. "Ireland has risen in revolt once more, and this time, they've succeeded. The Society of United Irishmen has seized control of Dublin. Morale among the citizens in the cities across Great Britain is plummeting, and discontent is spreading. Great Britain is bleeding and an anti-war faction is forming in the parliament and gaining support. But there were no directives given."
"Your Highness, I'm going to ask this hard question again. Are you willing to explore the option of negotiated peace? If our situation is really bad then it'll grow worse when the French capture London."
"My decision would remain the same, General," Prince Frederick said. "I will fight till the end. If you are afraid to die here, you can take some of my forces and retreat to Southampton."
"There's no way I would do that, Your Highness. If you fight and I leave, that's going to be a decision I'll regret for the rest of my life," Wellington replied.
Frederick nodded, appreciating the unwavering loyalty of his general.
"Very well, General. We shall fight on. Let the French know that Great Britain is not like Austria."
***
Another thirty minutes later, the British forces defending the bridges retreated. Bernadotte's First Corps entered the Blackfriars Bridge.
General Bernadotte watched in glee as he saw the soldiers under his command filling the bridge. He couldn't wait to become the first French general to take London.
As General Bernadotte's forces triumphantly advanced onto the Blackfriars Bridge, a sudden, earth-shaking explosion rocked the structure.
The Blackfriars Bridge, a vital crossing point for the French forces, had been sabotaged. Explosives hidden beneath the bridge's foundation had been detonated, causing a catastrophic breach. Large sections of the bridge collapsed into the turbulent waters of the River Thames, taking with them soldiers, horses, and equipment.
The shockwave from the explosion was so powerful that it caused Bernadotte's horse to rear up in terror, ultimately crashing to the ground with the general still in the saddle. The force of the fall caused Bernadotte significant injury, and he cried out in pain as he struggled to free himself from the fallen horse.
Not only the Blackfriars Bridge exploded, but nearby bridges as well.
Napoleon quickly received the news and simply smacked his lips.
"I should have expected this," Napoleon growled. "If they could fill a building with explosives, they could do it to their bridges. I guess we have to look for another way to London."
Napoleon pulled a map out of his pocket and unrolled it. "We'll The Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Corps are to go to Windsor and from there, march eastward, towards London. The remaining forces will stay here and build pontoon bridges."
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