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Chapter 699: This Is Our Mine!

"You sons of bitches, don't think you can take our mine!"

Beside the stone trough on the east side of Czebinia, the miner Old Wicha raised his rifle and fired at the Austrian soldiers in their greyish-white uniforms in the distance.

He had been a miner for over twenty years and had never imagined he would one day be fighting on a battlefield.

But he and his fellow workers had performed exceptionally well.

Over two weeks had passed since the Austrian army entered Krakow, yet a small portion of Czebinia still remained in the hands of the Umiyan Mining Company.

If anyone doubted the fighting spirit of these armed miners, reality would surely slap them hard.

In fact, these miners' determination to defend Krakow was even stronger than that of the regular army.

In the past, they had barely managed to scrape by, and if they fell ill or were injured, their families would go hungry.

But after French investors brought in the most advanced steam engines, the silver mine's output multiplied, their wages significantly increased, and the mine even provided excellent benefits.

If they had always suffered, it might have been different, but once people tasted the good life, they would rather die than return to their old ways.

Yes, they wouldn't even if it meant a physical death.

When they learned the Austrians were coming to seize the silver mine, they didn't need anyone to rally them. They immediately gathered on their own, armed with the flintlock muskets they had been issued to deal with bandits, and declared they would defend the silver mine to the death.

The more than two hundred Austrian soldiers in front were still over ninety yards away, essentially out of flintlock musket range.

But after a burst of gunfire, they scattered in a panic as if hit by cannon fire, turning tail and fleeing. Some even threw down their muskets.

It wasn't that the miners were particularly skilled marksmen; it was simply that the Austrian army's morale was too low, and no one wanted to take a bullet for this meaningless war.

The miners' captain called out loudly, "The enemy is retreating! Cease fire!"

The position by the trough immediately fell silent.

These miners had one significant advantage: they were highly obedient to commands – in such a dangerous profession as mining, those who disobeyed orders usually didn't live long.

"Cowards!" Old Wicha's son scoffed, putting away his ramrod.

Voices from his fellow workers chimed in:

"You're right, they didn't even push as far as last time."

"That patch of bushes ahead is probably as far as they'll ever get..."

Suddenly, the captain yelled, "Watch out! They're coming back!"

Old Wicha looked over with a relaxed expression, seeing over three hundred Austrian soldiers advancing toward them in a tight line formation, marching to the beat of drums.

Behind them, dozens of officers in white and green uniforms followed.

Further back, Wurmser and his staff observed.

The Austrian general had been forced to personally come to the front lines to oversee a battalion-sized assault.

What's more, he was cautiously attacking with nearly ten times the number of troops – there were only about forty miners by the trough.

The Austrian soldiers were forced to advance until they were less than forty yards from the miners, then raised their muskets amidst their officers' curses.

The miners fired as fast as they could, but their numbers were simply too few to inflict serious casualties on the enemy.

The previous collapse at the first blow by the Austrian army hadn't been due to the miners' superb marksmanship.

"Fire!" an Austrian Major bellowed.

Under the watchful eyes of the battle overseers, the soldiers of three companies reluctantly pulled their triggers.

A volley of dense gunfire ripped through the small town, and nearly half the miners grunted in pain, knocked to the ground by bullets.

The Austrian army's numerical superiority was simply too overwhelming; once a real firefight began, the miners stood no chance.

The miners' captain clutched his shot arm, his voice hoarse as he cried out:

"Retreat! Fall back to the jewelry store!"

Old Wicha hastily pulled his son along and, with his fellow workers, ran north.

Another volley of shots rang out behind them. When he looked back, the captain still stood motionless before the trough, his flintlock musket raised in one hand.

He kept his head down, running with his companions all the way to the jewelry store, only to find that the mercenary position there was also engaged in a fierce firefight with the Austrian troops.

And the enemy clearly outnumbered their own forces several times over.

Indeed, though the Austrian army's morale was low, Wurmser was, after all, a seasoned professional officer. Upon realizing his soldiers were passively disengaging from battle, he immediately implemented a two-week targeted deployment.

He dispersed all his soldiers around Czebinia, with every unit operating at a battalion level. He sent his personal guard, along with the battalion commanders, to oversee the battle, authorizing them to shoot any soldier who dared to retreat.

At the same time, he personally patrolled the battlefield.

Under such strict orders and pressure, after five days of fierce fighting, twenty thousand Austrian soldiers finally drove the mining company's defenders out of Czebinia.

Gunfire and cannon fire echoed everywhere. Old Wicha risked climbing to the roof of a two-story building and finally spotted the flag of the company's Patrol Team.

He jumped from the window and called out to the nearly hundred miners gathered there:

"Head to Madame Maliush's flower shop, quickly!"

By the time they reached the flower shop, they overheard Patrol Captain Makowski telling a mercenary officer:

"There are too many enemies; we need to retreat back into the Tarnowskie Góry mountains."

Then, Old Wicha, leading his son, retreated with the Patrol Team toward the northwest.

Soon, gunfire erupted ahead.

Makowski rode over, calling out loudly to everyone:

"Austrian forces are blocking the way ahead; everyone head east!"

Old Wicha nodded nervously and said to his son:

"He must mean the small path beside the ore-washing pond; that also leads into the mountains."

In truth, the mining mountain was barren and not very suitable for defense.

But for now, it was their only option.

A contingent of mercenaries covered their retreat. The mining company's resistance force had just glimpsed the ore-washing pond in the distance when the roar of cannons echoed from ahead.

A shell whizzed through the air, and a tree a dozen yards from Old Wicha was blasted in half, sending splinters flying everywhere.

Makowski's face instantly turned ashen. "There are enemies ahead too!"

However, with the main Austrian forces on their flank and enemies behind them, if they couldn't reach the mountains, they would be encircled and perish here.

Wurmser, having interrogated captured locals earlier, had mapped out the terrain around the mine and preemptively blocked all routes.

Though the Austrian soldiers' morale was low, faced with the charging Poles, they had no choice but to open fire in self-defense.

Makowski drew his saber and shouted, "Charge with me!"

The miners immediately erupted in a series of shouts:

"Don't be afraid of them! This is our mine!"

"No one can stop us, everyone advance!"

Old Wicha, following the beat of the drums, advanced toward the Austrian infantry line formation positioned in front of the ore-washing pond, pulling his charging son back firmly and shielding him behind himself.

Splashes of blood occasionally erupted nearby as his fellow workers fell one by one, but the drumbeat never ceased, and they all continued forward until they could clearly see the fiery muzzles of the Austrian muskets.