Empire Ascension: The Rise of the Fated One-Chapter 161: Raid of Dutch Supplies part - 4

Dutch occupied Indian territory, outskirts of shimoga city(present day in karnataka), afternoon on 18th March 1557.

The situation for the Dutch group that took the central path wasn’t favorable either.

As Sergeant De Vries led his group of 30 units carefully through the thick forest, they heard gunshots and the cries of men of their unit. They cautiously moved in that direction and saw a fellow soldier rushing towards them with hope, but suddenly he fell as an arrow struck his back.

A Maratha soldier was spotted in hundred meters away with a bow in his hand, who ran away after being spotted.

Sergeant De Vries fired his loaded gun, shouting, "Kill that bastard!"

But he missed the shot, and the Maratha soldier escaped in a zigzag pattern, dodging gunfire as he used the trees for cover.

"Follow him, he must not be spared!"

They gave chase to catch him but eventually lost sight of him, so they continued pursuing in the same direction.

Suddenly, a snap echoed through the air. One of the soldiers had accidentally tripped a hidden wire . It triggered a recoil with a menacing hiss.

Before they could react, a massive wooden log, camouflaged among the leaves, swung down like a hammer of doom.

The log smashed into the ranks, crushing several soldiers instantly. The sickening sound of bones cracking echoed through the trees, mingling with the screams of the injured.

It sent shockwaves through the remaining ranks, throwing men to the ground, shattering their once orderly formation and leaving the Dutch soldiers in a state of terror and confusion as they tried to regain their footing.

"Hold the line! Hold the..." De Vries’ command was cut short as arrows began raining down from above encircling their position.

With a constant assault, the Marathas, who were positioned like predators in the trees, pierced flesh with their arrows, finding their targets with deadly accuracy.

A soldier next to De Vries fell to the ground, a gurgling stream of blood filling his mouth as the arrow bore deep into his throat.

"Reload! Quickly, reload!" De Vries shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.

The Dutch musketeers fumbled with their matchlocks, the panic in their eyes growing as they realized the reload time was a death sentence. A few managed to fire back, their shots scattering into the trees.

One Maratha fell from his perch, an arrow still nocked in his bow, while another was nailed to the trunk of a tree by a bullet.

De Vries, with gritted teeth, shot three times, taking down two Marathas. But as he stepped back, his foot snagged on a hidden rope.

"What the .."

He was pulled off the ground, his world turning upside down as he hung hopelessly by his ankle. He swung back and forth like prey trapped in a hunter’s trap, helplessly jolting with hands out.

Captain Vishwasrao Shindhe saw the struggling figure with detached coldness from below. He carefully aimed as he carried the spear. He threw it high with a swift motion.

De Vries gasped for breadth as he got pierced in the chest, the spear pass through it with a sickening crunch

The spear ripped into the sergeant, causing his body to quiver violently and a gasp to escape his lips. His eyes widened in horror, and blood gushed from his mouth. The Marathas watched, unflinching, as his body, still upside down, hung in the air as the last of his life faded away.

"Finish them," Vishwasrao commanded coldly.

The remaining Dutch soldiers put up a valiant fight through whatsoever formation, but their efforts were in vain since they were encircled and confused due to lack of leader.

When they realised that they were going to die soon, despair set in and many tried to run and break free from encirclement but those who remained eventually fall victim to the Marathas’ unrelenting range attack one by one. Their last cries echoed through the forest as they were shot down.

Unbeknownst to the horror of two groups from Dutch side, Vice Captain Pieter led his group of 40 units through the treacherous forest, where they were prone to lose direction.

The soldiers moved in a long line, clinging to the hope of finding a way out. Fear shot through the ranks with every crack of a twig or rustle of leaves.

Suddenly, a soldier cried out as a dart from a blowpipe embedded itself in his neck.

The screams of another guy resounded through the trees as his ankle got stumbled on a concealed rope and was jerked into the air .

"Cut him down! Hurry!" Pieter ordered, with desperation filled in his voice. The soldiers scrambled to save their trapped comrade eventually risking out breaking their formation.

They were more vulnerable and tense because the endeavour took up more valuable time.

"Curse this damned place," Pieter muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. His frustration mounting up with each step he took.

They were eventually lost, disoriented in the thick cover of the forest. The only certainty was that they were far off in the western direction, but that knowledge brought little comfort.

Just as they crossed a seemingly clear area, a net of ropes concealed in leaves, suddenly fell from above, entangling many in the group.

Panic surged as they thrashed against the restraints, some soldiers pulling out bayonets and knives to cut themselves free. But before they could fully break loose, arrows rained down from the treetops, striking with deadly precision. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Take aim! Fire at will!" Pieter shouted, trying to rally his men.

The Dutch musketeers fired into the trees, the sound of gunfire blending with the screams of the wounded. But the Marathas, hidden among the branches, had clear advantage, their arrows finding flesh while they remained out of sight.

High-pitched whistles echoed through the forest, adding to the confusion and fear.

Suddenly, the thunder of hooves broke through the chaos. Pieter turned, eyes wide with horror, as Maratha riders charged towards them along the clear path, their swords glinting in the dim light. The situation was precarious, with their movements restricted by the damned net that had trapped them.

"Fire! Take them down!" he screamed, but the shots were wild, panic seizing their aim. A few riders fell, but it was not enough.

As Pieter fumbled to reload, he saw a flash of metal, a blade slicing towards him.

His world spun violently, his vision blurring as his body collapsed to the ground. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was his own headless body falling beside him, the Marathas’ war cries filling the air as his men’s final cries of despair echoed through the cursed forest.

Back on the road where the Dutch main supply carts were being escorted

The atmosphere was tense, as Captain Hendrick stood among his men. The soldiers were weary, their eyes hollow from exhaustion. They had no choice but to settle temporarily on the open road between two uphill slopes, waiting anxiously for Vice Captain Pieter and the rest of their group to return.

With time running short and the urgency of their mission pressing on them, they couldn’t risk venturing further into the dense forest. The supply carts, were clustered together in a hasty formation, while the wounded were laid in the center, groaning in pain. The dead were lined up outside of formation.

A sergeant approached, with pale and drawn face, "Sir, we’ve got 23 dead and 38 wounded."

Captain Hendrick sighed, his heart heavy with the burden of command. That left them with only 89 soldiers to guard the supplies until Pieter returned. The situation was grim.

"Bury the dead with respect, Sergeant," Hendrick said with hard face but his voice laced with sorrow. "We can’t afford to be slowed down by their bodies in this dense forest."

The sergeant’s jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes, but he knew the captain was right. He saluted sharply and turned to carry out the order. But before he could move, a deep rumble echoed from the left, freezing everyone in place.

From the left crest of the terrain, a cloud of dust rose, followed by the terrifying sight of massive timber logs rolling down the slope. The Dutch musketeers’ faces drained of color as they realized what was coming: a deadly barrage of logs, crashing down the slope in unpredictable paths, aimed straight at their supplies and formation.

"Move! Get those carts out of the way!" Captain Hendrick shouted, his voice slicing through the rising panic.

The soldiers scrambled, desperate to pull the carts to safety. They tugged and hauled, but the logs moved too fast, crashing through the lines with crushing force. The logs smashed into the carts, splintering wood and crushing men who couldn’t escape in time. Screams filled the air as soldiers were thrown off their feet, the once orderly formation now shattered and broken.

Captain Hendrick, struggling to keep control, yelled, "Get to cover! Spread out and take positions!"

The Dutch soldiers, disarrayed and scattered, ducked behind the remnants of their carts and whatever cover they could find. They fired lone shots into the trees, the sound of muskets punctuating the chaos. But with their lines broken, their shots were scattered and ineffective.

The battle raged on, and the forest echoed with gunshots and cries of men. The Dutch were exposed while the skilled 20 archers of the Vijayanagar unit had an easy time, and the remaining 30 with crossbows continued to strengthen the barrage.

"Hold your fire until you have a clear shot! Rest of the men gather in groups." Hendrick ordered, trying to restore some semblance of order.

Slowly, as the soldiers found their footing, they began to regroup. Captain Hendrick rallied them in horse, forming small pockets of resistance along the road. The men, now more composed, took proper stances and began firing in more organized volleys. Their musket fire echoed through the forest, forcing the hidden Vijayanagar soldiers to take cover. The Dutch volley was powerful, and despite the chaos, they managed to inflict heavy casualties on their attackers as well.

But just as it seemed they might regain control, a new threat emerged.

Suddenly, the Marathas, positioned on the opposite slope, began their assault. A mixed group of archers and musketeers, concealed by the dense forest, launched a barrage of arrows and musket fire. The Dutch, now caught in a deadly crossfire, struggled to maintain their positions.

"Captain! More coming from the right!" a soldier screamed.

Captain Hendrick, trying to restore order, shouted, "Brace yourselves, cover your flanks. Fire at will."

As the Dutch soldiers composed themselves, they began to fire back in a more organized manner, their superior firearms with pocket formation allowed them to inflict significant damage despite the pincer attack.

But amidst the chaos, Captain Jijarao, the Maratha leader, spotted Captain Hendrick on his horse.

Recognizing him by his ceremonial attire, Jijarao took aim.

"No, no leader," Jijarao muttered. "You are my prey." He pressed the trigger.

The musket ball struck Hendrick in the shoulder, throwing him to the ground.

"Captain down!" a Dutch soldier cried out, panic rippling through the ranks.

But even as blood soaked his uniform, Hendrick gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. "Hold the line! Don’t let them break through!" he ordered, rallying his men.

Just as the situation seemed to stabilize, the Vijayanagar field commander, Muddappa, raised his sword high, rallying his forces. "Range attacks are for cowards! Warriors are best suited for swords! Charge!" he roared.

With a fierce battle cry, the Vijayanagar soldiers surged forward from the treeline, their swords and shields gleaming in the sunlight. The Marathas followed suit, abandoning their ranged positions to avoid friendly fire, and joined the melee. The open road became a battlefield of clashing steel and cries of war.

Captain Hendrick, though wounded, commanded his scattered men to join the pocket formations, struggling to establish compact defensive lines. "Form up! Don’t let them surround you!" he yelled unsheathing his rapier, as the Dutch soldiers tightened their ranks and prepared for close combat.

The battle was fierce, with both sides suffering heavy casualties. The Dutch, with their superior firearms and bayonets, managed to hold their ground, inflicting significant losses on the attackers. But the sheer ferocity of the Vijayanagar and Maratha soldiers began to wear them down eventually.

As the fight raged on, Captain Vishwasrao, leading a fresh wave of 20 Maratha reinforcements, charged into the fray, a shield in one hand and a talwar in the other.

They thundered with the Warcry "HAR HAR MAHADEV!"

His men, armed with swords and shields, crashed into the Dutch lines with brutal force. The Dutch, already strained and battered, began to falter.

The battlefield descended into a brutal melee, blood splattering across the dirt as men fought and died in close quarters. The sound of clashing steel, the cries of the wounded, and the desperate shouts of officers trying to restore order filled the air.

Captain Hendrick, panting and bloodied, found himself in the thick of the fight. He swung his rapier wildly, cutting down one enemy after another, but the sheer number of attackers was overwhelming. His men, despite their valiant efforts, were being pushed back, their lines breaking under the relentless assault.

Feeling exhausted, he realized the battle was lost. They were down to nearly one third of their initial . With Vice Captain Pieter, yet to return, it was clear his group had likely been wiped out or lost direction.

The appearance of new enemies meant certain defeat, and there was no means of escape

Captain Hendrick, struggling to stay conscious from blood loss, gave his final command. "Surrender! Those who can, fall back!".

The remaining Dutch soldiers, seeing no other option, began to surrender. A few managed to retreat into the forest, but most were captured or killed in the brutal melee. The battlefield was littered with the dead and dying, the once orderly Dutch formation now looked nothing more than ruins.

Aftermath of battle

The surrendered soldiers were rounded up and bound to trees, their weapons confiscated. Most of the supplies were captured, but two carts had been destroyed and thoroughly looted. The wounded and unconscious captain was laid aside and his body thoroughly searched along with his belongings. Among the items recovered were a few road maps and a letter.

Captain Jijarao approached Commander Muddappa, who was intently examining the maps and letter. "Commander, we have 19 dead and 17 wounded."

Muddappa sighed, his face with grim resolve. "A necessary sacrifice. We must bring our dead back with us." He continued to study the letter, its Dutch written and difficult to decipher.

Captain Vishwasrao shindhe, busy binding the prisoners of war, spoke up, "Commander, what about them? They could reveal our numbers and locations. Should we bring them along?"

Muddappa poured the contents in the pouch and looked at Shindhe with a steely gaze. "Execute them all except the captain. Priority is supplies not the prisoners."

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//A/ N: Battle Summary-

Dutch Forces:

Captain Hendrick: Commanding 89 soldiers. Vice Captain Pieter: Leading 40 soldiers. Sergeant De Vries: In charge of 30 soldiers.

Maratha Forces:

Captain Jijaro Patil: Leading 20 soldiers. Captain Vishwasrao Shindhe: Commanding 20 soldiers. Captain Simha Bachkar: In charge of 20 soldiers.

Vijayanagar Empire:

Commander Muddappa Nayakudu: Leading 50 soldiers.