Chapter 1375: 1281: Pointing the Sword at Vienna

Capítulo 1375: Chapter 1281: Pointing the Sword at Vienna

Under the concentrated effort of the soldiers, eight 24-pound cannons were swiftly moved up the hill under enemy fire—on this complex terrain, humans proved more efficient than horses.

At the same time, nearly four thousand French soldiers also crouched as they rushed toward the bastion.

Unlike Poland, the northern side of the fortress, after days of bombardment by the French Army, had two small breaches in the outer wall and several artillery positions on the inner wall destroyed.

Meanwhile, the hot air balloons above occasionally used large red and blue flags to indicate areas with sparse enemy fire to help the attacking troops reduce casualties.

Despite scattered soldiers distracting the fortress’s cannons, three 24-pound cannons were hit and damaged en route. Ultimately, five heavy cannons, after a difficult 20-minute trek, arrived at a position over 700 meters from the fortress, and immediately aimed at the previously created breach to pour out cannon fire.

Because Major Steinochel had redeployed six to seven hundred soldiers from the northern side of the fortress, the French soldiers faced significantly reduced firepower. Before twilight, over a thousand had already crossed through the outer wall breach.

After a moonless, cloudy night, the Poles initiated a new wave of attack, forcing Major Steinochel to abandon the idea of moving soldiers back north for reinforcements.

Taking advantage of the situation, the French Army quickly stabilized the forward position, spending a day moving 22 12-pound cannons and 30 howitzers to the hillside, within effective range.

The south of the fortress became a bloody mill, while the north faced artillery exceeding the fortress’s firepower density; the entire Saint Peter Fortress crackled like firewood thrown into a furnace.

The opposing sides engaged in a bloody melee for three days until a portion of the fortress’s inner wall on the northern side collapsed under repeated bombardment by the French heavy artillery.

Over a hundred elite grenadiers, wearing bear hats, immediately roared and charged into the breach…

On the fortress’s south side, while Britwin loaded ammo in the trench, something felt amiss—the enemy’s artillery had seemed to quiet down.

He frowned, contemplating whether to seize the chance to rush forward, when Zlatopol suddenly shouted madly: “Look! Look, it’s French allies!”

Britwin followed his finger, seeing a golden iris flag flying atop the central tower of the fortress.

His heart raced furiously, yelling louder than Zlatopol: “We won! We won!”

Soon, the Polish soldiers cautiously emerged from the trench, with no enemy firing at them. Cheers quickly spread, followed by the orderly singing of “Poland Is Not Yet Lost,” as some started to sob quietly.

Over half an hour later, troops arrived to relieve Britwin and the others as they cleaned out the fortress.

Britwin’s company nibbled on some bread before, under the command of the remaining Lieutenant, wearily descending the hill.

As Britwin and his comrades loudly recounted their battle experiences from the past days, a squad of soldiers carrying seven or eight stretchers passed by, followed by a military priest.

Britwin instinctively turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the person lying on the foremost stretcher, feeling some familiarity.

Rushing a few steps forward, he immediately noticed the Major’s insignia on the person’s shattered military uniform, then saw a large chunk missing from his neck on the other side, dark red blood already congealed.

He lowered his head woodenly, took off his hat, and muttered softly: “You are the bravest person I have ever met. May you find eternal peace in heaven.”

Zlatopol approached, confused: “Who is this gentleman?”

“That day, he covered us, preventing the Austrians from tearing us apart with gunfire.”

Zlatopol paused, then solemnly removed his hat and stood at attention.

That evening, amidst the groans of the wounded, the Captain arrived at Britwin’s company.

An officer following behind checked the records in the firelight, calling out several names loudly.

When those named walked over and stood ready, the Captain immediately ordered: “Cadron, for your heroic performance in this battle, you are promoted to Lieutenant and will act as the Company Commander of Twelfth Company…

“Britwin, as Sergeant, you are promoted to Lieutenant, acting as Deputy Company Commander…

“Shekoroski, as Corporal…”

Indeed, Britwin’s company had suffered nearly one-third casualties during the battles, currently ranking second in military rank within the company.

The Captain further ordered: “Tomorrow, we will supplement fourteen soldiers for you. Rest as much as possible, as we will head south with the French Army at noon the day after tomorrow.”

Lieutenant Cadron immediately exclaimed excitedly: “Are we going to fight in Prague?”

The Captain turned and moved to the next company: “It should be Vienna.”

…

May 29, 1799.

Passau, Alliance Command Center.

After completing his daily inspection of the defense line, Archduke Karl rarely displayed a relaxed expression, saying to the officers beside him: “Barring any unexpected events, we may return to Vienna before the end of summer.”

Seeing several subordinates appear puzzled, he explained: “Yesterday, I received a letter from Count Werner; the ceasefire negotiations are progressing smoothly, and the French have accepted most of our terms.”

Count Werner was the representative appointed by the Emperor for negotiations with the French.

The alliance officers visibly sighed in relief: “Just as you said, the French cannot maintain a long-distance front away from their homeland.”

“No wonder the French Army has seldom initiated attacks lately.”

“We can totally exhaust them here!”

“Indeed, our troops continue to arrive in Passau…”

Yes, Joseph had been sincerely discussing ceasefire matters with Austria’s negotiation representatives for over a month, even drafting a treaty text.

During this period, Surt’s Corps and a large amount of logistical supplies had quietly amassed on the northern line.

As they chatted joyfully, a staffer ran over with a grim face and handed a report to Verossi: “General, Els just sent word; it seems it is under attack.”

The latter frowned as he unfolded the report, scanning it and immediately gasped: “Marshal, Marshal, Els Fortress is under attack by over a hundred thousand French troops, Major Tainoher requests immediate reinforcement.”

Archduke Karl snatched the report, quickly turning pale as well: “When did they… Werner, that fool!”

He crumpled the paper into a ball and instructed Verossi: “Immediately send Milius Corps to Els Fortress.”

Despite his surprise at the French Army’s actions, he remained composed, having visited Els Fortress several times, aware of how sturdy the fortress group was. Even if faced with a fierce attack by a hundred thousand French troops, it would undoubtedly hold out for over a month.