Chapter 1279: This is Poland's Only Chance
As over a thousand Polish infantrymen reached the middle of the slope, intense cannon fire erupted from the bastions.
Dozens of men in the front lines instantly burst into crimson spray, tumbling down one after another.
The soldiers behind them returned fire, hoping to reach the outermost wall of the fortress under suppressive fire. But their rate of fire was far too low, and reloading was difficult on the slope, while the Austrian forces fired relentlessly.
Barely ten minutes later, over 200 Polish soldiers had fallen before the bastions.
From a distance, Kniaziewicz observed the battle through a telescope and sighed, his expression grim. He ordered the two battalions leading the assault to withdraw.
The Ore Mountains fortress complex had been built by Austria to defend against Frederick the Great's southward advances. Later, Queen Theresa and Joseph II reinforced it multiple times. Each bastion alone was equipped with over 140 cannons, and only needed over a thousand soldiers stationed there to repel an attack by tens of thousands of enemy troops.
Currently, St. Peter's Fortress had received reinforcements from two other fortresses, and it was packed with over 4,000 men.
If the French army were to launch a direct assault alone, it would take at least one or two months to take this place, and casualties would undoubtedly be devastating. Afterward, they would still face the two fortresses on the south side of the mountain pass.
Therefore, Archduke Charles and his officers had never considered the possibility of the French army choosing to break through here.
Yet, even so, climbing a slope of roughly 300 meters and then assaulting the bastion was by no means an easy feat.
Moreover, the Polish army needed to undergo a forced march the entire way, so they were unable to carry heavy artillery. The strongest firepower they possessed at this moment were just 9 Twelve-Pounder Cannons, which could barely provide effective suppressive fire against the fortress.
Their only recourse was to wear down this bastion inch by inch with their flesh and blood.
Soon, two more Polish infantry battalions launched an assault. But just over 20 minutes later, they were forced to retreat due to excessive casualties.
Then, another two battalions unhesitatingly picked up their rifles and jogged towards the fortress, following the sound of the drums...
The battle continued until half past three in the afternoon. The Polish army had launched countless waves of attacks, and now two to three hundred soldiers had reached a blind spot for fire at the outermost wall of the bastion — this was only a blind spot for the cannons, as Austrian infantry above still relentlessly fired down at them.
Just then, Kościuszko, who had been standing merely one kilometer away at the foot of the mountain, acutely perceived a change in the cannon fire from the bastion.
He turned and shouted to his aide, "The Austrians' cannons are overheating! Tell Kniaziewicz to launch a general assault immediately!"
"Yes, Marshal!"
Indeed, the Polish army's relentless attacks had been precisely to exhaust the enemy artillerymen's cooling water with blood and lives.
As the bugle call sounded from the Polish rear, three elite skirmisher regiments, nearly 5,000 soldiers who had long been prepared, surged towards the ridge like a breaching flood.
The cannons on the west side of the fortress seemed to be afflicted with a severe illness, capable of firing only a single shot after long intervals — with red-hot gun barrels, it took about four to five minutes for them to fire once if only relying on the wind for cooling. The density of their fire had dropped by more than an order of magnitude compared to before.
The Austrian artillery on the east side realized something was wrong and desperately tried to provide fire support to this side, but the effect was very limited.
"Push hard, lads!" Woronowicz glanced at two cannons on the fortress ahead — they hadn't fired in several minutes — then pulled hard on a rope and shouted to the soldiers beside him, "They're about to fire!"
His company's mission was to cover the artillerymen behind them and help them drag the cannons close enough.
Suddenly, two soldiers to his left were struck by a passing cannonball, and were instantly reduced to a bloody spray before they could even scream.
Deprived of two men's strength, the cannon weighing over a ton instantly plummeted downwards.
"Don't let go!" Woronowicz's hand was already raw and bloody from the rope, but he gritted his teeth and hunched over, shouting to those beside him, "Quick, help!"
However, misfortune seemed to shroud them, and more men were hit and tumbled down the slope.
The cannon slid abruptly for seven or eight meters until several soldiers who had gathered desperately dragged it, only just managing to stabilize it.
The artillerymen behind them said anxiously, "Just a little further forward, and we'll be in position to fire."
Just then, the Austrians on the bastion also noticed the cannon closest to them and shouted and gestured at them.
Immediately, two cannons and hundreds of percussion cap muskets began concentrated fire on their position.
From their elevated position, bullets still carried lethal force even after flying over 300 meters.
Two soldiers beside Woronowicz were successively hit. One said tremulously, his voice strained with tension, 'The enemy seems to be targeting us. Maybe we should pull back first...'
"No, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" Zlatopol roared at him, his eyes bloodshot. "I once flinched during the battle of Sassai town, and ever since, I've wished I had died on the battlefield then.
"Believe me, that's not what you want."
Woronowicz kept his eyes fixed on the bastion and continued, "We must capture this place to help our French allies cross this cursed mountain!
"Our regimental commander said that we cannot defeat all our enemies on our own. This is Poland's only chance!"
The surrounding soldiers fell silent, simply wrapping the ropes pulling the cannon around their arms a few more times.
Behind and to their side, a Major looked up at the cannon, then waved to a staff officer nearby: "Grochoska, have the Seventh and Eleventh Companies follow me. Form a dense formation in front of the cannon."
The latter stiffened, exclaiming urgently, "Major, that's too dangerous!"
During a fortress assault, soldiers were supposed to maintain a distance of over five meters from each other to reduce the chance of being hit. Yet, his Major wanted to form a dense formation.
The Major gestured towards Woronowicz and his men: "They're standing even closer together. Enough talk, this is only slightly more dangerous than we faced at Zagazig Village."
"Yes, sir!"
Gritting his teeth, Grochoska affirmed, then began rallying the soldiers.
Soon after, three lines of infantry appeared in front of Woronowicz and his men, suppressing the Austrian forces on the bastion with volleys. However, their most significant role was actually shielding the soldiers dragging the cannon from incoming bullets.
Finally, over ten minutes later, the Twelve-Pounder Cannon, shielded by hundreds of bodies, reached a position 300 meters to the southwest of the bastion.
Seeing that the artillerymen were already adjusting the firing angle, the Major decided to lead his unit in a charge towards the bastion.
He seemed to be back on the day he first faced a furious Russian assault, with soldiers falling one by one around him, yet he remained standing, continuously advancing towards the place where muzzle flashes erupted.
Finally, a resounding BOOM echoed from behind him.
"Good, let those bastards get a taste of this!" A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Comments