Chapter 1347: Flames of Vengeance
"I've already sent someone to rush them, sir."
Before the staff officer could finish, a young soldier, no more than seventeen or eighteen, short in stature, with a face chapped and red from the cold, excitedly jogged over.
After being stopped by a guard, the young man quickly removed his hat, snapped to attention before Janik, and declared loudly, "Brigade Commander, you're sending me to capture the artillery position on the south side, aren't you? Don't worry, my men are all..."
The staff officer beside him gestured for the guard to move, then looked at the young soldier. "Sergeant Waldemar Zamoyski of the Skirmisher 6th Battalion, 14th Company?"
"That's me, sir."
Janik looked over as well, his voice grave. "Your real name is Wizczek, isn't it? You've violated conscription regulations, did you know that?"
Wizczek flinched, took half a step back, and mumbled, "I... I don't know what you're talking about..."
Janik lowered his telescope and walked closer. "When you enlisted in Lublin, your elder brother had already been dead for over a year. According to conscription regulations, as the only man left in your family, you shouldn't be a soldier."
Wizczek clearly panicked, retreating another two steps. "I... I didn't mean to hide it..."
"You won't be punished, but you must return to your hometown in Wizna now." Janik rubbed his forehead. Yesterday, the General Staff Headquarters had directly ordered him to send Wizczek back.
This sergeant's father had died defending Poznan. His eldest brother had participated in the raid on Crimea, and his body still lay in the icy plains south of Kursk. His second brother had been killed by a cannon shell while capturing the Ore Mountains fortress.
His family was now a priority for the Department of Military Affairs, yet this young man had changed his name and run off to Lublin to join the army.
"I... I can't go back." Wizczek's voice was soft, yet incredibly stubborn.
Janik sighed, trying to persuade him. "Your mother is alone at home. Do you want to see her starve?"
Wizczek lowered his head, and after a long moment, said, "Mother said she only wants to hear the news that the Russians have been defeated... If I just go back like this, she'll beat me..."
He paused, then added, "Uncle Goscinewska said he'd help me look after the family. Even though he lost an arm, he can manage six to eight acres of potato fields by himself..."
'Damn it.'
Janik suddenly recalled the letters his mother had written to him when he first enlisted, and found himself unable to tell the young man to go back.
He turned, waving a hand at the staff officer. "Help me respond to General Staff Headquarters: we couldn't find the fellow named Wizczek."
"But... Yes, sir."
Wizczek was overjoyed, snapped to attention again with force, and exclaimed, "Thank you, Brigade Commander!"
Without looking back, Janik said, "Stay in the barracks, and once Minsk is taken, return to Wizna immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
Shortly after the young sergeant left, a messenger rode in from the west, reining in his horse nearby and excitedly calling out to Janik, "Lieutenant Colonel, over 600 Parma reinforcements will arrive in two hours! They're bringing a large quantity of oats, twenty-six cartloads of canned goods, and three heavy cannons!"
Janik was instantly overjoyed.
He had only heard of canned goods, never seen them. They were said to contain cooked meat and vegetables, preserving their original flavor even after three or four months in transit.
He hadn't expected their French allies to send twenty-six cartloads this time!
Indeed, at present, only France in all of Europe could mass-produce canned goods. There was no need to ask about the origin of these supplies.
As for the heavy cannons, they were precisely what he urgently needed.
In the preceding months, the Russians' lack of supplies had rendered most of their artillery unusable. This allowed the Polish army, which itself lacked cannons, to maintain a decent offensive pace.
But in recent days, the Russian artillery fire had suddenly intensified, and his soldiers' casualties were growing more severe. Yet, there were still two Russian defensive lines before the city of Minsk.
Now, with the additional cannons, he could finally go all out!
On the way to meet the reinforcements, Janik, with a hint of triumph, said to the officers beside him, "See? You were worried our French allies would abandon us to make peace with the Russians?"
"How many times have I told you? There were no peace talks at all. Those were merely tactics by His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, to buy us time."
Some officers nodded in agreement, while others lowered their heads in shame. "May His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, forgive our imprudence..."
'I should be damned, to have doubted our best allies...'
That afternoon, all the soldiers of the 12th Infantry Brigade leaned against the breastworks, enjoying a delicious fish stew with carrots and potatoes—the kind where each man received at least three pieces of fish.
Since the signing of the Russo-Prusso-Austrian Prague Treaty, they had barely been able to get a decent piece of bread, and this bountiful dinner greatly lifted everyone's spirits.
The next morning, three Twelve-Pounder Cannons suddenly unleashed their fury upon the Russian right flank's defenses. Operated by the Parma Royal Artillery Battalion, the fifth test shot accurately swept over the Russian infantry lines, instantly raising a vast mist of blood.
The Polish soldiers let out a cheer and launched their first assault before the Russian cannons could even begin to retaliate.
On the Minsk front, in the temporary Russian command post, Kutuzov listened as a staff officer read the Tsar's newly arrived orders, but his eyes remained fixed on the flashing muzzles of the Polish cannons through his telescope.
He had repeatedly submitted reports to the Tsar, advising that a truce with France was imperative. However, the gentlemen in Saint Petersburg had not only ignored him but had also staged an arrogant walkout in Milan.
He could already foresee that the Polish supply situation would only improve, and new recruits would continuously stream to the battlefield.
In contrast, although the British had sent him some supplies, reinforcements from Saint Petersburg had still not departed—perhaps the troops had been dispatched to Transcaucasia first.
In short, he would have to hold Minsk for at least two more months before the balance of power could shift.
Meanwhile, these Poles were assailing his defenses like madmen. In the past month alone, he had already lost over four thousand soldiers.
And this was despite being on the defensive.
After the staff officer finished reading Alexander I's personal letter, Kutuzov quickly stood at attention, head held high, and declared, "Ura! Ura!"
Then, he turned to the orderly and said, "Order Vorobyov's corps to construct defenses along the Svislach River."
The latter couldn't help but stare, startled. The Svislach River was far to their rear.
Comments