The already tottering Russian Army front line completely collapsed under this devastating blow.
Four or five thousand soldiers screamed as they scattered in all directions, but the French Army's horizontal formations continued pouring out volley after volley with the precision of a machine.
Large numbers of Russian Soldiers suddenly pitched forward while running. Those lucky enough to survive became even more terrified, and their malnourished bodies somehow ran at near-competitive speeds.
Vorotov knew his soldiers' habits very well. He immediately abandoned any thought of rallying the rout and fled toward the rear with a dozen or so Guards.
Two kilometers to the east, Suvorov listened as a staff officer reported the designations of units that still retained their formations, occasionally cutting him off to issue orders. "These two regiments have British guns. Put them in the center...
"Yasov's regiment has only half its men left. Use them as the reserve force..."
Under his formidable organizational and command abilities, the Russian Army vanguard that had withdrawn earlier had begun reforming its ranks. A line formation had even been raised on the south side.
Just then, the bedraggled Vorotov came galloping over under the protection of the Guard.
Suvorov did not even ask about the battle. He immediately shouted to the Orderly Officer, "Order Hanaski's and Marlieniko's regiments to hold the enemy in place. Everyone else, regroup at once. Abandon all baggage wagons and head for Wädenswil."
Then he muttered under his breath, "God, I hope it isn't too late."
The Vorotov Legion had collapsed after holding out for barely more than an hour. This gave Suvorov a new assessment of the French Army before him.
With his own disordered army, there was simply no way he could stop them.
Thus, the best choice was to swiftly pass south of the town