Western United States, Tennessee.
Outside the inconspicuous town of Jackson, a group of Louisiana Colony officers stared at the battle map on the table, their expressions grave. According to what Count of Baton Rouge had just said, several thousand American forces would soon arrive from the east, forming an encirclement around them. What was even more deadly, however, was logistics.
The Americans would most likely use containment along the eastern and southern fronts to drag the war into a prolonged stalemate.
In this godforsaken place called Tennessee, one could march more than ten kilometers before encountering a single settler household. There was simply no way to obtain enough supplies.
They had less than half a month's worth of Canned Food left, and the indian soldiers would find it difficult to go out hunting for "game" under enemy harassment. That meant that, after half a month, they would have no choice but to surrender to the Americans.
Major Makar was the first to break the silence. "Commander, perhaps we should withdraw to the west bank while we still control Memphis." Memphis was an important crossing on the east bank of the Mississippi River. Although navigation on the Mississippi River was poor in winter, if they hurried their retreat, they would most likely be able to return to Louisiana before the American forces completed their encirclement.
Dalemagne immediately rose to his feet. "No. That would mean completely abandoning Florida."
Little Turtle nodded as well. "And Baton Rouge will soon face a fierce assault from tens of thousands of American forces. We simply do not have time to rush from Pacaha to reinforce it."
Major Makar clenched his fist and shouted, "Then we head south and storm Yazoo! Wayne's forces outnumbered us by far before, and didn't we still defeat them?"
Napoleon frowned.