Chapter 1449: War of Vengeance
After the occupation of Mstislavl, Kościuszko's vanguard was less than a hundred kilometers from the fortress of Smolensk.
Meanwhile, the Polish forces in the north were seeing great success in the Vitebsk campaign. Just a few days ago, they had seized Sosnovka, the strategic passage controlling the southern approach to the city.
Given the fighting spirit the Russian army had displayed recently, capturing Vitebsk was expected to be a swift affair.
Once that was accomplished, the Polish army would have a firm and irreversible foothold on the eastern bank of the Dnieper River.
Furthermore, the Polish Great Sejm had passed the General Staff's recruitment plan the previous month, which would draft a total of 38,000 new recruits from Kuyavia, Poznan, Krakow, and eastern Lithuania.
These regions had previously been occupied by Russia, Prussia, and Austria, meaning they had not participated in the earlier drafts and still possessed a significant population of young men. Lithuania, in particular, was expected to provide 25,000 men for this mobilization.
Kościuszko turned to look at the map on the wall, his gaze as sharp and piercing as a cavalry lance. He addressed a nearby staff officer.
"Keep all the heavy cannons near the riverbank. Assign extra guards to watch over them and prevent any Russian sabotage. We won't have a use for them until next spring."
"Yes, Marshal!"
He only needed to wait until next April. Once the new Polish recruits arrived at the front, he would strike with full force to break Smolensk in a single blow.
He possessed absolute confidence in their victory.
Currently, he had twenty-five French-supplied twelve-pounder cannons at his disposal, and he had even spared no manpower to drag three twenty-four-pounder heavy cannons to the front.
He had seen the ancient fortress of Smolensk. With these cannons concentrating their fire, he could blast a breach in its walls within three days at most.
Once Smolensk fell, the road to Moscow would be clear, with only minor defensive works at Borodino standing in his way. The Polish grand army would be able to surround Moscow in short order.
The hatred born from decades of invasion, humiliation, and enslavement would be repaid in Russian blood at that very moment!
A gust of icy wind whistled through the gaps in the window frame. Kościuszko tightened his collar—his headquarters did not yet have a fire burning in the hearth—and called out to the staff officer who was just about to leave.
"One more thing. Urge Warsaw to ship the new winter uniforms as soon as possible. In the meantime, tell the soldiers to limit their time outdoors to prevent frostbite."
This year's winter was exceptionally harsh. The winter clothing originally issued to the Polish troops was no longer sufficient to ward off the cold, and it would only get worse after Christmas.
Fortunately, the General Staff had ordered a batch of thickened winter coats in early October, and textile mills across the country were currently working overtime to complete them.
As the staff officer departed, Jan Kiliński, the Colonel of the Ranger Regiment, entered hurriedly and handed a blood-stained letter to Kościuszko's attendant.
"Marshal, my men encountered a liaison officer from the Society of Happiness. They claim to be under heavy attack by Dolgorukov's army corps and are requesting reinforcements."
Kościuszko looked up. "Where is the liaison officer?"
"He died two hours ago, Marshal."
Kościuszko lowered his head and quickly scanned the plea for help.
The letter stated that over 10,000 Russian troops were storming Pereiaslav, while the rebel army had only 2,600 men. They were on the verge of total annihilation.
With hardly a moment's hesitation, Kościuszko turned to a staff officer at the door.
"Lukic, have the clerk write a letter to Mr. Begozerov on my behalf. Encourage them to hold their ground and tell them they will surely defeat the army of the Russian tyrant."
Kiliński asked urgently, "Marshal, are we not sending reinforcements?"
Kościuszko nodded slowly.
"While I admire these brave souls fighting for freedom, venturing deep into southwestern Russia is far too dangerous. I will not compromise our strategic deployment for the final battle."
Seeing that the cavalry commander wanted to argue further, Kościuszko raised a hand to silence him.
"Besides, they are Russians after all. My soldiers should not have to bleed for the sake of Russians."
Another ten days passed. While Kościuszko and a group of officers were inspecting the camp of the 12th Infantry Brigade, a messenger came galloping toward them, frantically waving his whip.
Kościuszko's guards stepped forward to grab the horse's reins, and the messenger shouted with wild excitement.
"Victory! General Madaliński captured the Smolensk fortress at noon the day before yesterday! The main Russian force is currently fleeing to the east!"
The camp fell silent for a heartbeat before erupting into thunderous cheers.
"Long live General Madaliński!"
"This is God's protection over us!"
"Onward to Moscow! Let the Russians know our strength!"
"Poland shall prevail!"
Kościuszko remained calm, summoning the messenger to his side. "How did the fortress fall so quickly?"
"After General Madaliński surrounded the fortress, he launched a series of probing attacks. To everyone's surprise, they immediately overran the outer defensive positions," the messenger explained, gesturing animatedly. "Shortly after, Major Isayev's skirmisher battalion broke into the southern side of the fortress, and the Russians turned and fled.
"Once we entered the fortress, we discovered that most of the Russian soldiers were suffering from dysentery and relapsing fever. They had almost no combat capability left."
Kościuszko instinctively crossed himself.
"I thank the Lord for this miracle and for punishing the wicked."
However, he was well aware that Russian logistics and camp conditions were notoriously poor. A large-scale outbreak of disease in such a brutal winter was not entirely unexpected.
He turned to the high-ranking officers accompanying him.
"Order all corps to prepare. We must capitalize on the Russian rout and expand our gains. This is a golden opportunity bestowed upon us by God!
"Captain Lukic, send a battle report to Warsaw immediately. Announce the great victory and demand that the General Staff deliver all logistical supplies to Smolensk a month and a half ahead of schedule."
...
In Pereiaslav, in the southeast of the Dnieper River.
Major Nesterov, the frontline commander of the rebel army, tossed the latest battle report to Gozerov and frowned.
"Vladimirov's battalion has been crushed. Dolgorukov will be at the outskirts of the city by tomorrow afternoon. Unless a miracle happens, I doubt we can hold out."
Gozerov's face was grim. "Those damned Poles. They promised we would face the Tsar's army together."
"Now is not the time for that," Kishchenko interjected. "And in the end, this is our own revolution. We should never have relied on foreigners in the first place."
Gozerov gritted his teeth. "And those serfs... do they not realize we are here to liberate them? If they all joined us, we would have an army of tens of thousands. But look! Not a single one has responded!"
Kishchenko interrupted him. "They are naturally ignorant. We can only rely on civilized people who have embraced the Enlightenment."
A captain from the Tikhonov Regiment clenched his fist and spoke up loudly.
"We cannot just sit here and wait for death. I suggest we immediately move toward Lubny and try to reach Kursk before the enemy catches up. There should be many liberals there who support our cause!"
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