On Augereau's side, a staff officer handed him the casualty list. "Today, colonel, we had 287 killed, 330 missing, 202 seriously wounded, and 493 lightly wounded..."
Out of twenty thousand soldiers, over a thousand had become casualties. This could be considered the most disastrous day the French Army had suffered since entering Northern Italy.
In the Austrian officers' tent, Bajachaza handed Alvinzi's orders to Archduke Karl.
The latter quickly read the final lines and could not help shaking his head helplessly—because the situation at Molverino was critical, Alvinzi had reduced the reinforcements assigned to them to two thousand men.
Yet by dawn the next day, both sides received good news of their own.
Five Six-Pound Cannons and one Twelve-Pound Cannon had appeared on the French Army's position.
The previous night, Marmont had led men in felling trees, lashing them into enormous rafts, and secretly ferrying the guns across from the opposite bank—although three cannons had fallen into the river along the way, at least they had artillery now.
Meanwhile, a messenger officer sent by Würmser stood before Bajachaza.
"So General Würmser will arrive here by noon tomorrow?" Bajachaza looked excitedly at the officer before him. "And he has sixteen thousand soldiers?"
"Yes, Marshal." The messenger officer appeared somewhat weak. In the fortress, he had only been able to eat two meals a day, totaling two pounds of black bread.
In truth, Würmser had brought nineteen thousand men out of the fortress. Several hundred had been shot dead during the breakout, and many more had deserted along the way.
"Oh, praise General Würmser." Bajachaza pointed his cane toward the riverbank. "The French are finished now!"
The messenger officer hesitated before adding, "Marshal, there is one small problem you must still deal with. More than ten thousand Sardinian soldiers are following behind