Chapter 1478: The Most Critical Line of Defense
Chapter 1478: The Most Critical Line of Defense
Kościuszko's pupils constricted suddenly. "What did you say? That's impossible!"
He had marched all the way from the north, and the Russian army had been trailing far behind them. Why would an enemy suddenly appear on their southern flank?
He had not stationed any troops on his left wing.
A staff officer beside him suggested, "Could it be the Russian forces coming from Astrakhan?"
The Astrakhan plains were located in the North Caucasus. Mozdok, the headquarters of the Russian Caucasus Corps, was situated there.
Kościuszko's expression froze.
He had originally estimated that it would take at least three months for the Russian forces in the Caucasus to reach the western front. It had only been a little over two months since those forces had withdrawn from Georgia.
He had no way of knowing that Alexander I had issued a direct order to Gudovich: he must reach Smolensk before March.
At that time, Gudovich had just reached Poltava. He immediately altered his itinerary and struck out directly westward to intercept the Polish forces.
However, he had been unable to pin down the exact location of the Polish army and had to search as he moved. It was only when he reached the town of Bobrovitsa that he unexpectedly discovered the Poles were positioned just to his north.
Kościuszko struggled to regain his composure and turned to his staff officer. "Which units are on the left wing?"
The officer did a quick mental scan. "The Royal 19th Infantry Regiment, Marshal. They were just rotated out for rest."
Kościuszko glanced toward Kozelets, where a fierce engagement was underway. Defending the town was the Samoylov Legion, which had been routed once before; their combat effectiveness and will to fight were abysmally low. According to current trends, he would be able to seize the town in another half-day.
To the west of Kozelets lay the Dnieper River. Once across, his army would be able to return to Poland.
He turned to a nearby herald and said in a low, gravelly voice, "Order Lieutenant Colonel Reimovich to do everything in his power to hold back those Russians for four hours. No, three hours will suffice. Tell Gilinsky to take the Guard Cavalry Battalion and reinforce them immediately."
The Guard Cavalry Battalion he referred to consisted of over five thousand Winged Hussars. Having lost their horses, they were currently being utilized as reserve infantry.
The staff officer interjected hurriedly, "But Marshal, the 19th Regiment has fewer than two thousand men, and they just came out of an intense battle—"
"I know!" Kościuszko interrupted, his head bowed. 'They must do it. They have to.'
In the village of Ignaty, five kilometers southeast of Kozelets.
The soldiers of the Royal 19th Infantry Regiment were in the middle of a meal when the assembly drums suddenly thundered. They immediately began stuffing the remaining pieces of black bread into their mouths, grabbed their muskets, and sprinted outside.
In the nearby field hospital, someone shouted, "The Russians are launching a raid from Bobrovitsa! We have no defensive line there! Who can still stand? Come with me and hold them off for a while!"
Immediately, several soldiers with bandages wrapped around their heads limped forward. "I can still fight."
"Me too!"
"Count me in—"
As the news spread, hundreds of wounded soldiers gathered. Some even had one arm in a sling.
Then, even more soldiers emerged from the nearby quarantine camp. Most were burning with fever, but their limbs were still functional. Although the French doctors had strictly ordered them not to have contact with others, the situation was far too dire to worry about such protocols.
By the time the 19th Infantry Regiment had finished assembling at the village entrance, over three thousand wounded and sick men had spontaneously gathered beside them.
Lieutenant Colonel Reimovich ran past them, frowning deeply. "You can barely stand! Get back to your quarters!"
No one moved. Instead, the wounded and sick soldiers strained to straighten their backs as much as possible.
The Lieutenant Colonel shouted again, but finally, he turned to his staff officer with a helpless sigh. "Distribute ammunition to them. Move fast! The Russians could charge at any moment!"
Half an hour later, when the Cossack cavalry of the Russian Caucasus Corps prepared to launch a sudden strike on the Polish flank, they were surprised to see a line of infantry already waiting for them in the distance.
Judging by the length of the line formation, there were at least four or five thousand men.
This completely contradicted their earlier reconnaissance reports.
The Cossacks were forced to retreat and report back. Soon after, Gudovich personally organized his main infantry force to launch an assault on the Polish line.
When the two sides were still over a hundred meters apart, the Polish forces opened fire first.
However, their shooting was extremely disorganized and appeared sparse.
Indeed, these wounded and sick soldiers had been thrown together haphazardly without any formal structure. They had to rely on experienced veterans to act as temporary junior officers. It was a miracle they could even hold a straight line.
The Russian spirits lifted instantly. They closed the distance to about forty meters, delivered a synchronized volley, and then leveled their bayonets for a charge.
Lieutenant Colonel Reimovich waited calmly until the enemy was less than thirty paces away before swinging his saber and roaring, "Fire!"
The Royal 19th Infantry Regiment was an elite unit, entirely equipped with French percussion cap muskets.
The Russians, caught mid-charge, were staggered by the ferocious volley. They broke and scrambled back.
A cheer erupted from the Polish defensive line.
However, only twenty minutes passed before Gudovich organized a second wave of attack.
Fortunately, the Russian troops were also exhausted from their long march. Not only were the soldiers drained, but their cannons were lagging dozens of kilometers behind. Consequently, the momentum of their assault was not particularly overwhelming.
Hoarse, desperate roars echoed along the Polish line! "For the Motherland!"
"Long live Poland! We shall not retreat a single step!"
"Yes! Defend the line with your lives!"
Soldiers who had previously been too sick to even sit up now found a miraculous surge of strength. At a speed hardly slower than usual, they loaded, fired, and reloaded again.
The Russians, who had previously suffered defeats in Transcaucasia, already had low morale. They were cowed by this display of ferocity and hesitated to advance.
However, the last reserves of strength in the wounded and sick Polish soldiers were quickly being spent. Less than two hours into the battle, the Russians noticed that the frequency of the enemy's fire had dropped significantly.
Gudovich immediately committed all his forces and ordered the Cossack cavalry to swing around and attack the Polish flank.
The Polish line began to buckle.
Many soldiers were now reduced to firing while sitting on the ground, yet they kept their eyes locked on the Russians, using their final spark of energy to pull the trigger.
Even as the Russians broke into their line, the fallen bodies remained where they lay, serving as grim obstacles that slowed the enemy's progress.
Lieutenant Colonel Reimovich looked at his shattered defensive line. He gritted his teeth and commanded his personal guard to form a rank on the flank to intercept the charging cavalry.
He checked his pocket watch. There was still one hour left before the time mandated by the Marshal.
He drew his pistol and turned back, screaming, "Hold! We must hold!"
Nearby, a Russian soldier leveled his musket and fired. The lead bullet thudded into Reimovich's scabbard with a sharp crack.
Startled, the Lieutenant Colonel was about to return fire when he saw the Russians ten meters away freeze in shock, then begin to retreat.
'Are the reinforcements here?'
He turned his head in excitement, only to see a ragged, wavering column slowly approaching from the rear. The flags they carried were unlike any unit he recognized.
Then, he spotted a familiar face: Doctor Venishko.
They weren't reinforcements at all. It was the army doctors leading another eight hundred wounded men to sell their lives on the field.
Half of these men couldn't even lift a musket, but the sudden appearance of another infantry line through the thick clouds of gunpowder smoke was enough to frighten the Russians into a retreat.
By half-past three in the afternoon, when thousands of Winged Hussars finally arrived at Ignaty, gasping for breath, they were met with a horrific sight. A line of defense composed of blood and severed limbs lay before them, and Lieutenant Colonel Reimovich sat amidst the corpses with fewer than two thousand surviving soldiers.
They were still using every ounce of their strength to fire toward the enemy.
Comments