Chapter 708: To Death
The orderly left after receiving his orders. A cavalry officer, sporting sideburns and a prominent, hooked nose, passed him on his way into Korezenikov's office. He stood at attention and reported, "General, as you instructed, I've extended the search radius to 5 miles, but we still haven't found the Polish army."
Korezenikov waved a hand dismissively, clearly annoyed. "Colonel Bagration, send more men toward Moscow. We should find something there."
"Yes, General," Bagration responded, snapping to attention. He hesitated slightly before adding, "But the enemy was still in Bryansk the day before yesterday. It's unlikely they could have reached Moscow so quickly. I've already searched every other area repeatedly, except... the Siviria direction."
Korezenikov let out a few dry laughs. "Unless the Poles have gone mad, why would they head south? Their target is clearly Moscow."
"General," Bagration pressed, "I mean... perhaps we could try—"
Korezenikov tapped his forehead. "Use your head, Pyotr. Siviria and Rylsk are nothing but endless dark forests, and beyond that is Kursk Fortress. What would they go there for? Hunting wild boars?
"If they truly went south, I'd be relieved. They'd starve to death before ever making it out of those dark forests."
South of Bryansk lay a sparsely populated region of dense forests. Rylsk province, an area roughly the size of the Southern Netherlands, had a population of only 34,000.
Even Kursk and Kharkov further south were extremely barren, making it difficult to secure sufficient supplies.
Even with a forced march, it would take nearly two months to reach there. A Polish army lacking logistical support could never endure that long in such desolate territory.
Bagration emerged from the office, feeling somewhat dejected, carefully pondering where the Poles could have gone.
After a moment, he shook his head and muttered to himself, 'No matter what, I still need to confirm it.'
That afternoon, a thousand cavalrymen from the Russian Royal Kholm Cavalry Battalion quietly departed their barracks, galloping towards Siviria.
These were troops Bagration had brought from Kyiv, not originally subordinate to Korezenikov, allowing him to deploy them without the latter's explicit approval.
Brasovo, a small town at the southernmost tip of Bryansk.
Two rangers caught up with Dombrowski, their expressions anxious. "General, a Russian cavalry detachment has appeared behind us. We didn't dare scout too closely, but we estimate at least six squadrons."
Kosciuszko's brows furrowed instantly. "Are they pursuing us?"
"They're about three miles to our west, so they shouldn't have discovered our tracks yet."
"But with so many cavalrymen," Dombrowski noted, "we'll be discovered sooner or later."
Kosciuszko fell silent.
If the Russians discerned their intention to head south, even if they couldn't quickly gather a large army to block them, sending even a small cavalry force to harass them would severely delay their march.
Furthermore, Kursk Fortress would undoubtedly bolster its defenses.
His army might starve to death before the fortress walls!
Dombrowski had clearly realized the same thing. He flicked his riding crop. "I'll take the cavalry and smash them."
"Wait!" Kosciuszko interjected, holding up a hand. "Any cavalry that escapes will surely draw more Russian troops."
Dombrowski's cavalry regiment, even with the Winged Hussars, numbered only 1,500 men. They simply couldn't annihilate six squadrons—nearly a thousand Russian cavalrymen—entirely.
"Then what should we do?"
Kosciuszko lowered his gaze to his saddle. After a long moment, he spoke with great difficulty to his orderly: "Order the entire army to turn northeast immediately, making it appear as though we're advancing towards Odiv."
"Yes, General!"
Dombrowski asked, puzzled, "What are you doing?"
"To make the Russian cavalry believe we intend to circle around Odiv to Moscow's south."
'Believe?' The cavalry commander shook his head at once. 'But we still need to continue south; those cavalrymen will discover us eventually.'
Kosciuszko gazed down at his saddle. "Therefore, someone needs to hold back the Russian cavalry."
Dombrowski understood instantly. If they could hold back the cavalry behind them for two or three days, the Russians would assume the main army was still heading northeast, while their own forces would have already turned south.
If they could shake off these cavalrymen for five or six days, once they plunged into Siviria's dense forests, it would be extremely difficult for the Russians to track them.
"Then I'll go intercept those 'tails'," Dombrowski declared.
He spoke lightly, yet everyone knew that once separated from the main force, they would soon be encircled by an ever-growing number of Russian troops.
"The cavalry regiment can't afford to lose you, General." Colonel Antoni Madaliński rode over from the side, saluting Kosciuszko by touching his hat. "Please entrust this mission to me. I only need 1,300 soldiers, and I guarantee we'll hold back the Russians behind us for at least three days."
Kosciuszko pondered for a moment, then nodded silently. He stepped forward and firmly patted Madaliński's arm, his voice low. "Poland will forever remember your name, and that of every brave soldier who fights alongside you."
"Oh, come now, General," Madaliński replied with a smile. "The battles you and General Dombrowski face will certainly be far more perilous than mine. I'm simply eager to get an early start on thrashing the Russians."
The next day.
By the river valley on Odiv's western outskirts.
Colonel Madaliński looked at the Royal 37th Infantry Battalion and the two squadrons of Winged Hussars arrayed before him. He pointed to his chest and declared, "You should all already know the task we've undertaken.
"I have no right to ask anyone to sacrifice themselves.
"Yet, I am doing so now.
"Because, other than this, I can think of no other way to save our homeland.
"For the survival of Poland, for our descendants to be free from the invaders' chains, I ask you: join me, and let us drench this soil beneath our feet with our blood!
"Please forgive my presumption. I will eternally repent to you all in hell.
"But before that, we will tear apart every enemy!
"Victory shall ultimately belong to Poland!"
The 1,300 Polish soldiers fell into a long silence.
Suddenly, someone thumped their chest loudly and roared, "I am willing to die with you!"
The soldiers instantly erupted in a chorus of roars: "To death with you!"
"Tear the enemy apart!"
"For Poland!"
Not a single man showed the slightest hesitation.
Around noon.
The Russian cavalry tracking Kosciuszko spotted, from a distance, a line of infantry blocking the narrow passage between the river valley and the northern forest.
The commanding Russian officer, observing the banners of the Polish Royal Legion through his telescope, fell into hesitation.
The next morning, after confirming that the Polish detachment numbered just over a thousand men and showed no signs of retreating, he finally issued the order to attack.
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