Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

“We can’t let our guard down yet!”

Delasovitz waved his hand and shouted loudly,

“That was just the Russians’ probing, the real battle is yet to come!”

However, his speech was somewhat slurred due to the swelling on his left cheek, and no one paid him any attention for the moment.

Anxious, Delasovitz climbed onto the parapet, about to shout again, when he saw the company commander walking over. The commander patted his shoulder and shook his head, “Let everyone be happy for a while. There will be less and less time for relaxation from now on.”

Their company’s mission was to hold Zagazek Village for 3 days. And so far, only 3 hours had passed.

The soldiers celebrated for a while, then began to collect the bodies and tend to the wounded.

Father Stashak, in charge of Delasovitz’s company, arrived, standing in front of each fallen soldier, performing a brief prayer.

The company commander came running over in a hurry, anxious, “Father Stashak, you shouldn’t be here now, the Russians could attack at any moment, it’s too dangerous…”

The priest waved his hand with calmness in his demeanor, “The boys need comfort from Jesus.”

After he and the assistant had finished praying for all 41 fallen soldiers of the Zagazek Village defense line, and were heading to the next defensive position, the sound of the Russians’ military bugle could be heard in the distance.

The priest turned back, raised his wrinkled hand, and shouted, “Brave Crusaders, Jesus is with you!”

A passionate cheer erupted spontaneously from the positions.

Delasovitz narrowed his eyes at the Russian soldiers pouring out from the forest ahead, his frown deepened, “At least 1,300 men, and possibly even more…”

Soon after, the distant and indistinct sound of a Cavalry Scout reporting to an officer could be heard, “The Russians are assembling… centered around an infantry regiment… and Scattered Soldiers, about a battalion… north side of the village… traces of Russian Cavalry…”

Delasovitz spat on the ground and said with a grim expression, “These Russian bastards have quite the numbers.”

One regiment plus a Scattered Soldier Camp, that made at least 2,000 men. And then there was the cavalry.

As for the Polish Army defending Zagazek Village, they had just under 1,400 troops.

By Yanick’s side was another new soldier who had taken position; he remembered the man seemed to be called Yerzy Lachko, so he turned his head and greeted, “Yerzy, you’re here?”

“Yeah. We met in the training camp, right? You guys were really impressive just now!”

“Yes, many died. Are you nervous?”

“No!” Lachko puffed out his chest, “I’m extremely excited!”

Yanick nodded, “Keep your hands steady, that’s very important.”

“Yes!”

“Also, the Russians are nothing special, they die when hit. So, shoot them quickly.”

“Okay, I get it!”

The Russian cannons began firing, a prelude to their assault as a form of fire suppression.

Behind the parapet on the east side of Zagazek Village, Polish soldiers stood erect, clenching their teeth, ignoring the whizzing cannonballs.

Occasionally, if someone was shattered by a cannonball, others would immediately take their place. Still standing tall and proud.

It wasn’t long before the sound of Russian military drums started in the background.

Delasovitz whispered to the new recruits on both sides, “Hang in there, if we get through this wave, we may be able to hold for 3 days.”

He was well aware that the first wave of the attackers’ full assault was always the fiercest. But if no breakthrough was achieved, the Russian morale would be dented.

And the new recruits on his side would transition from initial chaos to numbness, becoming desensitized to gunfire, cannonade, and death.

This would make the defense line even sturdier.

As the drumming sound grew clearer, a column of Russian infantry appeared in Delasovitz’s view.

The column was three ranks wide, with more than ten rows of soldiers following, crouching, and jogging.

This was the most popular form of attack in recent years among the major powers of Europe.

Delasovitz knew that on the wide battlefield, there should be a dozen more columns like this attacking at the same time.

Behind the columns came the infantry line.

If his own side was caught up by the Russian Army attacking the columns, the infantry line on the other side would seize the opportunity to close in and use their numerical advantage to crush them.

If only they had lots of cannons. He muttered to himself, then heard the officer’s voice, “Ready—”

Beside him, Yanick quickly raised his flintlock gun, even faster than he was.

Delasovitz smiled and whispered, “Another Crusader joins us.”

“Mm.”

“Aim—”

“Fire—”

A volley of flames burst from the Polish Army line, and more than a dozen approaching Russians immediately fell.

Lachico patted Yanick hard on the back, excitedly saying, “I hit one! Did you see? I hit—”

The latter glared at him, “Reload quickly!”

“Oh…”

Immediately after, the Polish Army fired several consecutive volleys.

But the Russian infantry were fiercely tenacious, constantly advancing despite the relentless shooting.

Yanick finished reloading, and as he raised his gun, he saw the Russian Army had stopped, crouching more than thirty paces away, aiming at them.

“Shoot—”

The officer’s command came, and Yanick decisively pulled the trigger, glancing sideways to see Lachico still struggling to reload.

“Bang bang bang—”

The Russians almost simultaneously returned fire.

Bullets mercilessly crisscrossed, and soldiers on both sides let out a series of muffled groans, falling back one after another.

The Russians reloaded faster than the Polish recruits. A burst of gunfire later, two more Polish soldiers, still reloading, were hit.

“Hold the line!” he and Delasovitz shouted together.

One man from their side had fallen, but the other Polish soldiers, as if seeing nothing, steadfastly raised their guns.

Volley fire.

Several Russians were killed, and they quickly retaliated with a volley of their own.

Thus, at such close quarters, the soldiers on both sides relentlessly reaped each other’s lives, gambling their own lives in the process.

Wails and screams enveloped the entire battlefield, drowning out even the sound of the military drums.

Blood and limbs flew everywhere, quickly covered again by fresh blood and new corpses.

Life, like the cheapest of weeds, lay fallen clump by clump beneath the pervasive gunsmoke.

“Yerzy, reload quickly!”

Yanick raised his gun while turning to remind him, only to see that the face on his right had changed.

He froze for half a second, wiped what was either sweat or blood from his face with his elbow, and loudly said to the new recruit, “Carol, keep your hands steady, that’s important!”

“Fire—”

Yanick’s flintlock gun spat flames, and the Russian holding the flag staggered and fell.

The other Russian soldiers exchanged looks, glanced at the bodies scattered around them, and suddenly turned together, retreating.

On the battlefields to the north and south, seven or eight Russian Army columns finally could not bear the casualties and began to flee.

“Hey! They’re retreating!” Carol excitedly swung his fist.

Yanick nodded, his voice grave, “Don’t let your guard down, there are many more enemies behind.”

Indeed, just minutes later, the Russian infantry line appeared before them. In front of them, three or four hundred Russian Scattered Soldier Camp kept up the suppressive fire.