Chapter 1281: Pointing the Sword at Vienna
Eight 24-pounder cannons were rapidly dragged up the hillside by the combined efforts of the soldiers, enduring enemy artillery fire. In such complex terrain, human power proved far more efficient than horses.
Concurrently, nearly four thousand French soldiers also advanced, crouching low, towards the star fort.
Unlike the situation on the Polish front, the fortress's northern side, after several days of continuous French bombardment, already bore two small breaches in its outer wall, with several gun emplacements on the inner wall also destroyed.
Meanwhile, hot air balloons in the sky periodically signaled areas of sparse enemy artillery fire with large red and blue flags, helping the attacking troops minimize casualties.
Despite skirmishers diverting the fortress's artillery, three 24-pounder cannons were hit and disabled en route. Ultimately, after twenty minutes of arduous hauling, five heavy cannons arrived within 700 meters of the fortress, immediately unleashing a barrage into the previously created breaches.
With Lieutenant Colonel Steinocher having withdrawn six or seven hundred soldiers from the northern side of the fortress, the French troops faced significantly less enemy fire. Before dusk, over a thousand men had already poured through the breaches in the outer wall.
After an overcast, moonless night, the Poles launched a new offensive, compelling Lieutenant Colonel Steinocher to abandon any thought of redeploying his soldiers back to the northern front for reinforcements.
The French army, seizing this opportunity, swiftly consolidated their forward positions, taking a full day to haul twenty-two 12-pounder cannons and thirty howitzers up the hillside, bringing them within effective range.
With its southern face a gruesome meat grinder and its northern side under a barrage of artillery that dwarfed the fortress's own firepower, St. Peter's Fortress crackled and popped like firewood thrown into a roaring furnace.
Over a hundred elite grenadiers, bearskin hats perched on their heads, immediately stormed through the breach, their shouts echoing...
On the southern side of the fortress, Woronowicz, crouching in a trench reloading, suddenly felt something was amiss. 'The enemy's cannons seem to have fallen silent,' he thought.
He frowned, just contemplating whether to rally everyone for a charge during this lull, when Zlatopol shrieked like a madman, "Look! Look! It's our French allies!"
Woronowicz followed his gaze, spotting a golden fleur-de-lis flag fluttering atop the tallest central tower of the fortress.
His heart pounded wildly. He yelled, even louder than Zlatopol, "We won! We won!"
Soon, the Polish soldiers cautiously emerged from their trenches; no enemy fired upon them. Cheers quickly spread, followed by the synchronized singing of "Poland Is Not Yet Lost." Some even began to sob quietly.
Over half an hour later, the fortress-clearing units arrived to relieve Woronowicz and his men.
Woronowicz's company first gnawed on some bread where they stood, then, led by the sole remaining Second Lieutenant, they wearily began their descent down the mountain.
As Woronowicz and his comrades loudly recounted their battle experiences of the past few days, a squad of soldiers carrying seven or eight stretchers passed them, trailed by an by an army chaplain.
Woronowicz instinctively turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the person on the foremost stretcher. 'He looks somewhat familiar,' he thought.
He hurried forward a few steps, immediately noticing the Major's insignia on the man's torn uniform. Then he saw a large chunk missing from the other side of his neck, the dark red blood long since congealed.
He numbly lowered his head, removed his cap, and murmured softly, "You were the bravest man I ever knew. May you rest in eternal peace in heaven."
Zlatopol walked over, somewhat puzzled. "Who was that, sir?" he asked.
"That day, he covered us. It's why we weren't torn apart by Austrian bullets."
Zlatopol froze, then solemnly removed his cap and stood at attention.
That evening, amidst the groans of the wounded, the battalion commander arrived with his men at Woronowicz's company.
An officer following behind leafed through a ledger in the firelight, then loudly called out several names.
Once the named individuals had stepped forward and stood at attention, the battalion commander immediately ordered, "Second Lieutenant Calderon, for your courageous conduct in this battle, you are hereby promoted to Lieutenant, acting commander of the Twelfth Company..."
"Sergeant Woronowicz, you are promoted to Second Lieutenant, acting deputy company commander..."
"Sergeant Sikorski..."
Indeed, Woronowicz's company had suffered nearly one-third casualties in the fighting over the past few days, making his current rank the second highest in the company.
The battalion commander then added, "Fourteen soldiers will be assigned to your company tomorrow. Rest as much as you can; the day after tomorrow, at noon, we will march south with the French army."
Lieutenant Calderon immediately asked, excited, "Are we going to attack Prague?"
The battalion commander turned and walked towards the next company. "Most likely, Vienna," he replied.
...
May 29, 1799.
Passau, Coalition Forces Headquarters.
Archduke Charles, having completed his daily inspection of the defensive lines, displayed a rare relaxed expression as he told the officers accompanying him, "If all goes as planned, we should be back in Vienna before summer's end."
Seeing the puzzled looks on some of his subordinates' faces, he explained, "Yesterday, I received a letter from Count Wörner; the armistice negotiations are progressing smoothly, and the French have accepted most of our conditions."
Count Wörner was the Emperor's representative, dispatched to negotiate with the French.
The Coalition Forces officers visibly relaxed. "Just as Your Highness predicted," one said, "the French cannot maintain such a long supply line far from their homeland for extended periods."
"No wonder the French have rarely attacked lately."
"We can absolutely wear them down here!"
"Exactly, our armies are still continuously arriving in Passau..."
Yes, for over a month, Joseph had been discussing armistice matters "with great sincerity" with the Austrian negotiation representatives, even drafting a treaty text.
Meanwhile, Soult's Corps and a large amount of logistical supplies had quietly assembled on the northern front.
As they chatted cheerfully, an aide-de-camp, his face grim, jogged over and handed a report to General Verreser. "General," he announced, "news just arrived from the Ore Mountains; it seems to be under attack."
The general frowned, unfolding the report. His eyes scanned it, and he immediately gasped, "Ma-Marshal, the Ore Mountains Fortress has been attacked by over a hundred thousand French troops, and Lieutenant Colonel Steinocher requests immediate reinforcements!"
Archduke Charles snatched the report, his face quickly turning ashen. "When did they... That fool Wörner!" he cursed.
He crumpled the paper in his hand and said to General Verreser, "Have Milius' Corps immediately proceed to the Ore Mountains."
Although he was surprised by the French army's actions, he remained relatively calm. He had visited the Ore Mountains several times and knew how formidable the fortress complex there was. Even against an assault by a hundred thousand French troops, it could certainly hold out for over a month.
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