Yes, what Joseph had told the General Staff Headquarters was precisely the story of Napoleon's historical defeat in Russia.
Faced with such a desperate predicament, he could not think of any particularly good tactics either, so he decided to hand the problem over to his capable officers.
He believed that with advance knowledge of the difficulties they would face and the tactics the enemy might employ, Saint-Cyr's abilities would, even if they could not work a miracle, at least minimize Poland's losses as much as possible.
At noon the next day, Saint-Cyr, having traveled through the night without rest, finally met Kościuszko at the Polish Army headquarters in Yartsevo.
The latter warmly embraced him, then gestured toward a nearby tent. "Please forgive me, Colonel. In this frozen wilderness, we truly cannot put together a proper banquet. Fortunately, there is still some of the elk we caught last week..."
Saint-Cyr paid no attention to the banquet at all and asked anxiously, "How much food and fodder does the army have left?"
Kościuszko glanced at the soldiers around them who had come to welcome the french officer and lowered his voice. "About half a month's worth."
Saint-Cyr immediately frowned.
Minsk was a full 340 kilometers from here. Even without enemy interference, it would take more than half a month to retreat there. What was more, he had heard that General Madalinski was leading over thirty thousand soldiers toward Dorogobuzh, which was still more than a hundred kilometers from here.
Just then, a Polish staff officer hurried over, saluted Kościuszko, and said, "Marshal, the reserve force has assembled and can cross the river at any time."
The latter nodded. "Set out."
"Wait!" Saint-Cyr hurriedly stopped him and said sternly, "What you need to do now is withdraw all your forces as quickly as