Chapter 1278: Poland Will Never Perish
Four days later.
Outside Náchod Pass, in the central section of the Ore Mountains.
Major Drouot, commander of the French Artillery Battalion, turned to glance at the endless infantry lines stretching north. He muttered in confusion, "We could have launched the attack yesterday noon. What are they trying to do..."
It was no wonder he was puzzled; over 70,000 troops had assembled north of the pass, standing in neat formations as if preparing for a military parade.
Náchod Pass wasn't particularly narrow, but at most, it could only accommodate seven to eight thousand soldiers attacking the fortress on the ridge.
Colonel Lannes rode over, casting a glance at the formidable artillery positions before addressing Drouot, "All the ammunition's been brought up, I presume?"
"Yes, General," the latter replied, snapping to attention. "Everything was ready by yesterday."
"Then open fire," Lannes instructed, gesturing towards St. Peter's Fortress in the distance. "Use the densest possible barrage."
Drouot looked at the perfectly aligned infantry in the distance. 'It seems the assault force isn't ready yet...'
"Huh?"
Lannes clapped him on the shoulder. "General Soult is worried the Poles won't be able to 'knock open' the two fortresses south of the pass, so he wants to give them a hand."
Drouot immediately understood.
The main body of the Ore Mountains fortress complex consisted of three star forts. St. Peter's Fortress stood on the highest point of the ridge, while Theresia and Joseph Fortresses were situated on the south side of the pass.
If the Polish army couldn't quickly breach the latter two fortresses, even if the French army managed to push through the pass, they would be caught in their crossfire.
With General Soult deploying so many troops north of the fortress, the Austrian forces inside St. Peter's Fortress would undoubtedly be terrified into calling for reinforcements from the other two fortresses. This would significantly reduce the difficulty of the Polish army's assault on the fortresses.
Over ten minutes later, hundreds of cannons north of Náchod Pass roared in unison. Although only five of the 24-pound heavy cannons had the range to reach the fortress, the deafening thunder and the gunpowder smoke blanketing most of the pass still sent shivers down the spines of the Austrian defenders.
Lieutenant Colonel Steinocher, the fortress commander, dispatched messengers to the other fortresses for aid almost without hesitation—St. Peter's Fortress held fewer than two thousand soldiers, while the suddenly appearing French forces were at least thirty times his number!
Meanwhile.
In the remote outskirts of Ústí, 15 kilometers east of Joseph Fortress on the southern side, Chief of Staff Kniaziewicz was briefing Kościuszko on the latest military intelligence: "The enemy forces have followed Lieutenant Colonel Tuchkov towards Brno, so we should have successfully shaken them off..."
Three days prior, the Polish army had been intercepted by 6,000 Austrian troops near Turnov. To avoid revealing the main force's movements, Kościuszko ordered Tuchkov to lead three regiments and draw away the enemy.
Now, there were no longer any obstacles between them and Náchod Pass.
A cavalryman, disguised as a Traveling Merchant, arrived in haste and reported to Kościuszko, "Marshal, nearly a thousand enemy troops left Joseph Fortress this morning."
Kniaziewicz immediately exclaimed, "Our French allies must be attacking the pass!"
Kościuszko took a deep breath, reined in his horse, and galloped past the lines of soldiers, declaring loudly:
"Soldiers! Countrymen!
"I know the lament of the Vistula River still echoes in your ears, and you remember the sneering grins of the invaders as they entered Minsk.
"I know your uniforms are stained with the blood of your comrades, which are also the tears of our motherland.
"I know you may have suffered, you may have despaired, but a merciful God has granted us an opportunity for vengeance!
"Yes, we will use these guns, use our lives, to exact vengeance for Poland! We will send all invaders to hell!"
He pointed vigorously to the north. "Our French comrades are tearing open the Austrians' last line of defense, and that is what we must do.
"Hundreds of thousands of French troops will march with us to flatten Vienna.
"After that, we will turn east, to reclaim Ostkust, Minsk, and the West Bank of the Dnieper River! To reclaim all of our ancestral lands!
"We will use our rifles, our bayonets, and our cannons to crush the Russians into the dirt, to plant our banners on the East Bank of the Dnieper River, and hold a victory parade there!"
He sharply drew his saber, its blade glinting blindingly in the sunlight. "Now, this is the first battle of our vengeance! For the Homeland!"
"For the Homeland!" Tens of thousands of Polish soldiers roared, a sound that shook the earth, as they followed their Marshal and charged towards Joseph Fortress.
"As long as we live, Poland will not perish. Raise your war-blades, reclaim your lost lands. March, march, Dąbrowski... The Crown Prince has already shown us how to achieve victory..."
The song, "Poland Will Never Perish," echoed across the Central European plains, a defiant declaration from every Polish soldier.
The Austrians hadn't anticipated a sudden French attack on the Ore Mountains, but what astonished them even more was that, simultaneously, nearly 40,000 Polish troops launched a pincer attack from the south.
As wave after wave of Polish soldiers, eyes bloodshot, surged frantically towards Theresia Fortress and Joseph Fortress, the defending Austrian forces were gripped by despair.
With a large number of troops having been diverted to reinforce St. Peter's Fortress, these two fortresses now held only just over 500 soldiers each. Even if every shot they fired hit its mark, they would still be unable to stop the Poles frantically scaling the walls from all directions.
In fact, at least half of the Austrian soldiers were already cowering beneath the walls, too terrified to even look up and fire.
Before nightfall, Joseph Fortress was already captured by the Polish army, and at Theresia Fortress, cannons on three sides had been destroyed, effectively leaving it defenseless.
Early the next morning, Kościuszko, leaning on his cane, walked slowly among the bodies of the fallen soldiers.
There were no tears in his eyes; he merely bowed his head and murmured, 'Every Pole will forever remember your sacrifice...'
The following morning.
Soult was about to order the continuation of their 'routine performance' when he suddenly focused his gaze to the south.
Faint sounds of cannon fire drifted from the distance.
He turned and shouted to a messenger, "Quick, tell Lannes to launch the attack immediately. A real attack!"
Dozens of cannons on St. Peter's Fortress soon began to roar hoarsely as well.
Lieutenant Colonel Steinocher personally brandished his saber, shouting orders for his soldiers to hold their positions.
But in less than an hour, the southern slope was already dotted with countless white specks—innumerable Polish soldiers.
Every now and then, a cannonball would rip across the hillside, and a few white specks would be replaced by a splash of red, only for more white specks to instantly fill the void.
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