r18novel Chapter 697 - 698: “Civil War”
Chapter 697 - 698: “Civil War”
Hęcinne, Central-Western Poland
In a marching column of several hundred soldiers, Herbert Schmitz hummed a recently learned tune:
"Poland forever strong, forever bold!
As long as I breathe,
Whatever the enemy takes,
I will reclaim with my blade!
March forward! Kościuszko..."
The song was "Poland Forever Strong," an alternate version of the famous future Polish anthem "Poland Is Not Yet Lost." However, in this rendition, Józef Wybicki had replaced the original's somber mention of "peril" with a more resolute tone, matching the song's new title.
Historically, by this time, Russian forces had already surrounded Warsaw. Yet in this alternate reality, Poland's defensive lines were still holding on the eastern border.
As Schmitz marched to the beat of the drums, his hand reached for the letter in his pocket.
It was from his older brother, sent last week, informing him that he was heading to Poland with his regiment. His brother promised they'd reunite soon and together join the glorious crusade.
Herbert's brother, Moritz Schmitz, was a captain in the Austrian Royal Carpathian Corps.
However, Herbert had beaten him to the fight. Over the past two weeks, Herbert had journeyed from their hometown of Nowy Sącz to Poland, where he had been enlisted as a sergeant in the "Holy Crusaders Corps." Now, he was heading to the frontlines.
His brother, meanwhile, had only just set out.
Herbert chuckled at the thought. By the time Moritz faced the Russians, he might already have been promoted to the same rank as his brother.
The young sergeant smiled to himself, daydreaming about the romance of a crusade for faith and freedom.
The army marched onward, the terrain growing flatter as they neared the outskirts of Warsaw. Suddenly, several horses galloped up from the rear of the column.
A Polish major shouted, "Hold on! Stop the march!"
At his signal, the drumbeat slowed awkwardly, and the troops came to a halt.
The major spoke in hushed tones with the commanding officer, Major Fickert, whose face turned pale as the conversation progressed. After a moment of hesitation, Fickert climbed onto a large rock and addressed the troops in German:
"Everyone, listen up. Major Charles Trock has an important announcement."
The soldiers turned their attention to Trock, who began speaking passionately in Polish.
Fickert frowned but quickly translated:
"It is with great regret that I must inform you... our king has declared war on Poland several days ago."
The soldiers erupted into chaos.
Herbert Schmitz, stunned, shouted out in disbelief:
"Sir, did you say 'declared war'? Surely you mean 'allied with Poland,' don't you?"
"No, I meant declared war." Fickert nodded grimly, muttering under his breath, "Damn fools. Absolute lunacy."
Trock continued in Polish, his voice rising with emotion, while Fickert translated:
"At this moment, 25,000 Austrian soldiers are advancing through Nowy Sącz. In 4 to 7 days, they are expected to launch an attack on Kraków."
The murmurs of the soldiers grew louder.
"Why are we invading Poland?"
"This can't be the king's orders!"
"Which traitor made a deal with those heretical Russians?"
"Is this how we repay the Poles for saving Vienna from the Ottomans?"
The troops were volunteers from Austria who had joined the Polish crusade. They had signed up, believing Austria would aid Poland in resisting Russia. This news left them feeling betrayed and furious.
Trock bowed deeply to the men and said:
**"Kraków is nearly defenseless. We never imagined Vienna would attack it.
"As a result, Warsaw is sending every available soldier to defend the city.
"You are among our most experienced troops. On behalf of His Majesty the King, I humbly ask for your help in defending Kraków.
"In the name of God."
Herbert Schmitz stepped forward, his expression dark. "I'll go!"
Others quickly joined in:
"Me too!"
"Let's teach those fools a lesson!"
"Count me in!"
Within half an hour, the 800-strong unit was marching southwest toward Kraków.
Kraków. Near the Tarnowskie Góry Silver Mines. Outside the Village of Chebienia.
An Austrian artilleryman lazily stuffed a cannonball into the muzzle. The loader half-heartedly pushed it in with a ramrod, while the gunner lit the fuse.
With a loud boom, the cannon fired, sending the ball into a patch of bushes on the eastern side.
The battery commander looked through his spyglass but didn't reprimand his men. Instead, he sank onto a crate of ammunition, letting them fire at will.
Only after crossing into Poland had the soldiers learned their true mission: to fight Poles.
Until then, most of the Austrian troops—save for senior officers—had assumed they were marching to Poland's eastern border to fight the Russians.
Soon, General Wilhelm's personal guard arrived at the artillery position to monitor their progress.
The eight cannons had been firing all morning but had only managed to hit the Polish defenses once. General Wilhelm was livid.
The unlucky gunner whose cannonball had struck the Polish lines earlier had been scolded harshly by his comrades—they suspected it was an accidental hit.
After several artillerymen were flogged, the Polish defenses finally showed a breach. Wilhelm immediately ordered the Royal Grenadier Regiment to lead an assault on the position.
The colorful, mismatched uniforms of the Polish defenders soon began to retreat. They abandoned the village, leaving it entirely to the Austrians.
Wilhelm, watching through his telescope, commanded his cavalry to pursue.
He expected little resistance. After all, intelligence suggested Kraków had only a few hundred Polish defenders.
Yet the forces that had just delayed him outside the village numbered over 2,000.
"They must be a disorganized rabble raised on short notice," a staff officer said, lowering his telescope. "We'll likely capture the silver mines by tomorrow."
Wilhelm nodded. "Move the troops into the village. The inns there will lift the men's spirits."
He was still displeased with the day's results. The Royal German Infantry Regiment had launched two assaults, yet both were repelled by what should have been a militia.
About an hour later, while planning the next day's operations, Wilhelm suddenly heard cannon fire from the west.
Frowning, he turned to a courier, "I didn't order the artillery to move forward. What's happening out there?"
Moments later, two cavalrymen rode in frantically. "General! Major Morlet's detachment has been ambushed west of the village. Three cavalry squadrons have been routed!"
Wilhelm's face stiffened. Just as he was about to order the army to regroup, a scout reported enemy cavalry activity on the left flank.
"Cavalry? These Poles have cavalry too?"
A sense of unease crept over Wilhelm.
By the next morning, his worst fears were confirmed.
The Austrian army found itself locked in brutal combat with Polish forces in Chebienia.
Unbeknownst to Wilhelm, over 2,800 Polish fighters were defending the area.
Of these, only 800 were professional mercenaries from Italy and Switzerland. The rest were made up of mining company patrols—and armed miners.
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