Reincarnated as Napoleon



A week later, word of the French transport ships' demise reached the three French Generals stationed at Port-au-Prince.

Gathered in the National Palace, they listened intently as the sailors from the ill-fated French vessels, now under their custody, recounted their harrowing experiences.

"The Spaniards unleashed their cannons upon us without the faintest hint of warning!" exclaimed one of the sailors, his voice trembling with outrage. "Even as our proud French flag fluttered defiantly in the breeze, they showed no mercy."

General Desaix, Dumas, and Leclerc feigned shock and surprise after hearing the accounts. 

"That's unforgivable!" Leclerc declared. "How could they have attacked you? They won't get away with this."

"A Spanish ship firing upon an unarmed cargo vessel without warning, and with the French flag flying!" General Desaix added angrily. "This is an act of aggression that cannot go unanswered."

"We must respond swiftly and decisively. The honor of France was at stake," General Dumas asserted.

Leclerc nodded in agreement. "We shall mobilize our army and the fleet." 

"I'll get on it right away," General Desaix affirmed, rising from his seat and leaving the room to carry out his duties. 

***

Two weeks later, March 24th, 1802. 

The French Army and Navy stationed in the Caribbean began mobilizing for war. Ninety thousand troops boarded their respective ships, each soldier brimming with resolve. 

General Leclerc oversaw the logistical operations. He ensured that supplies, ammunition, and provisions were meticulously loaded onto the waiting vessels. Warships with their formidable cannons were readied for battle, their sails billowing as they caught the Caribbean winds. 

The forces had been reorganized for maximum efficiency. General Dumas's Corps would lead the invasion of Cuba, aiming to secure the island from the Spanish crown. General Desaix was tasked with the invasion of Florida, while General Leclerc would lead the expedition to the New Philippines.

Cuba, being the nearest target from Saint-Domingue, was the first to feel the wrath of the French invasion. The harbor of Havana now found itself in the crosshairs of French warships. Ships of the line, their decks crowded with cannons, positioned themselves strategically, forming a formidable line. As the morning mist dissipated, the residents of Havana gazed out at this ominous spectacle, their hearts heavy with dread.

The bombardment began, cannons roaring as they sent fiery projectiles hurtling toward the city. Buildings shook, plumes of smoke and debris filled the air, and the people of Havana sought shelter wherever they could find it. 

Meanwhile, sailboats laden with French invasion forces made their way to the Cuban beaches.

Coastal defense forts, cannons, and fortifications that had once protected Havana from pirates and rival European powers now faced the might of the French navy. 

The Spanish garrison stationed in Havana, though valiant, was ill-prepared to withstand the ferocious bombardment. The city's fortresses, such as El Morro and San Carlos, fired back in desperation, but they were neutralized by French precise artillery.

On the beaches, the French invasion forces landed amidst the chaos. These were highly trained soldiers, battle-hardened from conflicts in Europe and Africa. Equipped with the latest weapons they tore down Spanish soldiers swiftly and efficiently, pushing inland as they encountered sporadic resistance from Spanish militia and local defenders.

The streets of Havana became a battleground, with the Spanish defenders fiercely contesting every inch of ground. Yet, they were outnumbered and outgunned, and the city's defenses were gradually crumbling under the relentless pressure of the French assault.

General Dumas, leading from the front, inspired his troops with his unwavering determination. Together, they marched towards Palacio de los Capitanes Generales. The official residence of the Captain-General of the island, and a symbol of Spanish colonial authority in Cuba.

Inside the palace, the Spanish governor, Don Salvador José de Muro y Salazar faced a difficult decision. The Spanish troops are in disarray and routing, and the city is in shambles from the relentless bombardment of the French Navy.

"This is wrong—" Don Salvador uttered. "The French didn't even give us a chance to explain the incident and cut off diplomatic channels." 

"Sir, the French are closing into the palace, we must evacuate immediately," one of Don Salvador's advisors urged, anxiety etched across his face. 

A nearby explosion rocked the palace, causing Don Salvador to flinch, and sending shivers on everyone's spine.

Meanwhile, outside the palace, the Spanish troops formed a line, their muskets at the ready. 

About 400 yards in front of them, they could see a column of French troops with the French flag and battle standards raised high above. 

"Are those really French soldiers?" One of the soldiers asked. "Their uniforms looked differ—"

Before that soldier could finish his sentence, his head was suddenly blown off by a French bullet.

The soldiers standing on either side of him froze and had their eyes open wide. It was unimaginable, they were at least four hundred yards away and yet they could reach them with their guns from that distance? 

As seconds flew by, more and more Spanish soldiers fell under the precise and deadly fire of the French troops.

The Spanish line disintegrated further as panic set in. Some soldiers attempted to return fire, but their shots were largely inaccurate and ineffective at long range. Not only that, the French soldier could fire continuously without reloading, shocking them further.

"This is ridiculous! We are done for! Retreat!" One of the soldiers cried.

Realizing the futility of their situation and the devastating accuracy of the French fire, the soldiers began to scatter and rout. 

As the Spanish soldiers abandoned their defensive positions, a clear path opened up towards the Palacio de los Capitanes Generales.

General Dumas and his well-trained troops continued to methodically pick off Spanish soldiers as they scattered in all directions. The rapid firing rate of the French repeating bolt action rifle, along with their accuracy, gave them a clear advantage in this uneven battle.

Back inside the palace, Don Salvador and his advisors could hear the sounds of gunshots. 

"There's no way out—our forces have been defeated and the French are already outside the palace," one of Don Salvador's advisors said, his voice trembling with fear.

"We have no choice but to surrender," another one of his advisors implored. 

Don Salvador nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the grim reality of their situation. "Prepare a white flag of surrender. It seems we have no other option."

As the sounds of gunfire continued to draw closer, the preparations for surrender were hurriedly made. A small white flag was waved at the window of the Palacio de los Capitanes Generales.

Outside, General Dumas spotted the white flag. He raised his hand, signaling for his troops to cease fire once more. The French soldiers, who had been methodically advancing through Havana's streets, obeyed their commander's order.

With the fighting momentarily halted, Don Salvador, holding the white flag, and his advisors emerged from the palace. They walked slowly towards the French forces.

"We surrender! We surrender!" Don Salazar said repeatedly.

"Stand down," Dumas ordered, and the men lowered their bolt-action rifles that were aiming towards Salazar. 

General Dumas and his officers approached Don Salvador and his advisors cautiously. 

General Dumas towered over the man who seemed to be in charge of Cuba, Salvador José de Muro. He appeared to be in his fifties, wearing a white and red uniform adorned with epaulets that bore the symbols of his rank, his body was plump and his face streaked with sweat.

Don Salazar looked up to meet Dumas's eyes and spoke again. "We surrender."