Life of Being a Crown Prince in France-Chapter 768 - 676 Burning Eastern Europe IV
Chapter 768: Chapter 676: Burning Eastern Europe IV
Chapter 768: Chapter 676: Burning Eastern Europe IV
“Ah—”
Yanick’s eyes widened with horror as he shouted loudly and then instinctively pulled the trigger.
“Bang—” The bullet flew steeply into the sky.
Krzysztof had begun reloading, but he heard Yanick muttering in panic, “Holy Mary, please protect your…”
He slapped him on the back, “Jesus is watching you, stop being useless! Load quickly.”
“Load? Ah, right, load!”
Yanick’s hands trembled even more severely, and it took him quite some time to untie the gunpowder bag, yet he struggled to pour it into the barrel.
He indeed longed to be on the battlefield, to personally slay the invaders, but at this moment, he couldn’t control the fear within him.
Scenes of him being struck by Russians flashed repeatedly in his mind, just like what had happened to Batrovich just now…
“Aim—”
“Fire—”
The commander’s voice came, and Yanick, crossing himself, reluctantly poured the gunpowder into the gun, spilling most of it.
Delasovitz reminded everyone to aim before firing.
The Russians in front were getting closer, and the incoming bullets were increasingly intense.
Moans occasionally came from Yanick’s infantry line, and soon after, someone would fall, followed by soldiers from the rear marching forward to drag away the bodies and then take their places.
Yanick pulled out the ramrod, struggled several times to fit it into the barrel, while another round of salvos rang out around him.
“Bang, bang bang—”
The sound of firing from the opposite side jolted him alert; looking up, he saw that the Russians had already charged to less than 40 paces from the breastworks, close enough for him to see the facial hair on one man’s face.
He finally managed to load the bullet, lifted his gun aiming at the man, and forcefully pulled the trigger, but the gun didn’t fire.
He hurriedly looked down and realized that the flintlock wasn’t pulled back.
“Please, Jesus, grant me courage, courage, Holy Mother…”
Yanick muttered, struggling to open the gunlock, lifted his gun, and then saw that the bearded Russian was also aiming at him.
He shuddered, instinctively bending down to dodge.
“Fire—”
The Polish Army fired another volley, but Yanick was struck by an officer’s whip, “Stand up, coward!”
About a dozen Russian soldiers had already run to within 20 paces, shouting wildly and firing their guns.
Seemingly influenced by Yanick, more and more Polish soldiers shrank beneath the breastworks.
The Russians immediately took advantage to sprint forward, and the bearded man even jumped onto the breastwork, lunging at Delasovitz with his bayonet.
The latter forcefully parried upwards with his flintlock, the cold bayonet grazing his scalp, and then the Russian kicked him in the face.
Delasovitz grunted and bent down as well.
Krzysztof, the only recruit still firing, yelled desperately, “Stand up, stand up and shoot!”
The soldiers around him remained crouched down, no one responded, even the veteran Delasovitz was crouching there, clutching his face.
“Damn it! Have you all forgotten the girl from yesterday?” Krzysztof bellowed, “If the Russians break through the defense line, all Poles will end up like her!”
Indeed, he still didn’t know the girl’s name. After she died, the boy called Kaki hadn’t spoken a single word.
“Bastards, keep firing! This place can’t turn into another Lithuania! You…”
Krzysztof’s voice abruptly stopped.
Yanick was shocked and turned his head, just to see Krzysztof’s neck torn open by a bullet, blood spurting from the breach, spraying all over the face of the Russian soldier in front of Delasovitz.
“Henriek!”
Yanick cried out loudly, suddenly remembering there was ammunition in his own gun. His arm gained strength, and he raised his gun and fired at the Russian soldier.
“Bang!”
The bullet made a hole in the stomach of the bearded Russian, who swayed and fell from the breastwork.
He shouted, swinging his flintlock rifle to knock down another Russian soldier climbing over the breastwork, as the command of the officer rang in his ears.
“Ready—”
“Yes, fire,” Yanick quickly set up his flintlock rifle and began pouring gunpowder into the muzzle.
Flashing through his mind were images of the girl hit by a cannon yesterday, Batrovich with his head blown apart, and Krzysztof bleeding profusely.
For a moment, his hands seemed not to tremble as before.
Yanick quickly finished loading, took a deep breath, and raised his gun: “Russians can die too. I just killed one, so let’s take down another!”
Delasovitz also recovered, shook his head, and reluctantly raised his gun: “I have to hold this place. My Marina and Feodo are in Warren, and I must stand in front of them!”
Perhaps Krzysztof’s words had had an effect, or perhaps inspired by Yanick’s brave performance, the nearby crouching recruits all stood up.
“Fire—”
Following the officer’s command, the Polish position at Zagazik Village released the most coordinated volley since the engagement began.
A dense barrage swept over, and the leading Russian soldiers instantly fell in heaps.
Three kilometers away, on a mound.
In front of the Russian temporary command post, General Morcov, the overall commander of the Russian and Polish forces, watched the sparse fire on the Polish defenses and the nearly breached Russian skirmishers entering Zagazik Village through his binoculars, his lips curling with a disdainful smile.[Note 1]
“The Tsar should have ordered an attack long ago, and there was even no need to assemble this army of 120,000.”
He handed the binoculars to an aide: “The combat strength of the Polish Army is almost as weak as that of the Ottoman People.”
Yes, he had only sent out a probing group of skirmishers and almost broke through the Polish defenses, which gave him a clearer understanding of the Polish military strength.
He signaled to the messenger: “Tell Vadisnov to pull back. In half an hour, Kololiev will launch a general attack.
“By today, I want to push the front line to below Mozhili City.”
“Yes, General!”
Morcov was not being arrogant. As the main direction of the offensive in this campaign to subdue Poland, he commanded an army of 75,000, with as many as 92 cannons, which explained why the Polish positions were bombarded so heavily.
Moreover, this army had participated in the Russian-Turkish War, making their combat quality much higher than that of the Poles.
In contrast, the Polish side had only 50,000 soldiers and probably no more than 30 cannons.
If he still couldn’t achieve a quick victory with this, then there was no need for him to return to Saint Petersburg.
Soon, a gong sounded in the rear of the Russian forces, and the attacking Russian skirmishers immediately began an orderly retreat.
Not until the Russians had moved out of flintlock rifle range did the Polish officer shout “Cease fire,” and Yanick finally, belatedly put away his flintlock rifle.
On the empty ground in front of him, the bodies of Russians lay helter-skelter, at least sixty or seventy.
Yanick felt a rush of heat to his head and couldn’t help but wave his arms and shout, “We repelled the Russians, they’re running away!”
The surrounding recruits paused, then also began to jump and cheer, “The Russians are retreating!”
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“Ha-ha, let them know our strength!”
“Long live Poland!”
“Long live the motherland!”
