Across a battlefield more than two kilometers wide, muzzle flashes glittered like stars within the French Army's Skirmisher Clusters. Countless rapidly spinning Minié Balls kept striking Austrian Army soldiers, repeatedly shattering the momentum of their charge.
Several Austrian infantry regiments in the very center had pushed to within thirty paces of the French Army, but they could hold on no longer. One after another, they threw down their weapons and turned to flee for their lives.
The soldiers on the flanks had charged barely a dozen meters before giving up.
There was no helping it—the French firepower was simply too ferocious.
The Rifled Guns were frighteningly accurate, scoring a hit nearly once every four or five shots.
And Minié Balls were exceptionally quick and easy to load—just shove the bullet into the muzzle and tamp it down a few times. There was basically no difference from a Smoothbore Musket.
This caused the Austrian Army to lose nearly two thousand men in that short stretch of charging. Especially in the first rank of the Infantry Line, more than half the soldiers had been killed.
Surrounded by his Guard, Werneck fled southwest in panic. His final order was, "Have the reserve force take up defensive positions."
Immediately afterward, Major Soult led more than seven hundred Hussars in from the Austrian Army's left flank.
Since this side had collapsed first, the soldiers were already in complete disarray. The cavalry could easily weave back and forth among them, their Sabers constantly slicing through bodies.
The Austrian Army's left flank became even more terrified. To evade the cavalry, they even began running sideways toward the south.
Yet this blocked the retreat route of the soldiers in the center.
Six or seven thousand soldiers crashed together, shoving and trampling one another. Their screams were unceasing, like