Life of Being a Crown Prince in France-Chapter 791 - 699 Despair and Hope
Chapter 791: Chapter 699: Despair and Hope
Chapter 791: Chapter 699: Despair and Hope
Finally, the voice of the Commander rang out in my ears, “Aim! Fire——”
Old Vicha and his son raised their guns together, shooting at the Austrians opposite them.
However, their side had no formation and the shooting was extremely irregular; only about a dozen men from the Austrian line of defense fell.
On the contrary, the column formation of the Swiss mercenaries suddenly unfolded, killing dozens of enemy soldiers at close range.
Makavsky immediately pointed there, shouting loudly: “Focus the attack there!
“Hold on everyone! For the mines, for Poland!”
Old Vicha immediately gestured to his son to approach the breach in the enemy line, reloading and shooting on the move and then advancing again.
He was frowning all the while, praying in his heart that he wouldn’t be hit by a bullet and also praying that any bullets aimed at his son would be diverted to himself.
Then he remembered the comfortable life at home over the past year, remembered the buttered white bread, remembered the girl from the Donald’s family whom his son liked.
If they could drive off the invaders this time, they would be able to get engaged.
He quickened his step, charging until he was less than 50 steps from the enemy, then suddenly stopped and pulled the trigger of his gun.
A bloom of blood erupted in front of him; he had hit that fellow.
He looked back at his son and then calmly reloaded.
Bullets whizzed by his ears from time to time, but his prayers seemed to work, as he was never hit.
He ran forward a few more steps, raised his gun, and shot.
The number of his fellow workers around him was dwindling, and his mind was blank, with only one thought: he must not run away.
“Ah!”
Young Vicha’s shout came from behind.
Old Vicha’s heart tightened, but turning to look, he saw his son get up again, apparently unscathed save for the dirt on his body.
“I’m fine!” Young Vicha shouted, aiming his gun, “I tripped.”
Old Vicha was on the verge of crying, and took a few more steps forward, almost reaching the Austrian line of defense.
Several Patrol Team members suddenly passed by him; he actually saw Makavsky’s figure.
“Malik, keep up!”
Old Vicha shouted to his son, “Hold on a little longer, we’ll get through this!”
Young Vicha had already caught up with the pace of Makavsky.
Dozens of men subsequently pulled their triggers, and the gap in the Austrian line of defense immediately widened a bit more.
A Patrol Team member next to him was hit, blood flowing down to Old Vicha’s feet. Trembling, he took out his gunpowder pouch, pouring it into the barrel, ready for the next bullet to enter his own body at any moment.
At this moment, the Austrians opposite suddenly let out a series of shouts, and then began to turn and flee.
It turned out that it was Old Vicha’s shot just now that had killed the fellow in the white and green uniform behind the Austrian defense line.
The retreat quickly spread, and in less than 3 minutes, the entire Austrian infantry line had disintegrated, and the supervising team couldn’t hold back the more than 1500 soldiers. To avoid being trampled to death, they too had to flee.
After the last few sporadic shots, the battlefield fell quiet.
Makavsky walked out from the smoke, raising his flintlock gun and shouting excitedly: “We’ve won! We repelled them!”
Beside him, a miner started crying, “I, I’m not dead, wooo…”
“Antony, are you alright?”
“That bunch of cowards, they ran away!”
“Yes, we won! We won!”
Old Veca looked around at the bodies everywhere but felt no sorrow, only tightly embracing his son.
In fact, during the recent charge, the mining company had lost nearly 400 people, while the Austrian Army had only lost over 100.
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Yet the Poles stood firm, engaging the enemy with their rough shooting skills without the slightest hesitation.
The low morale of the Austrian Army caused them to break down once again.
Makavsky continued to shout, “Where’s the drummer? All come over. And the flagbearer, quick, gather everyone! We need to get up the mountain fast!”
The mercenaries and miners from all around the battlefield began to file over, and soon they more or less formed a queue, following Makavsky around the washing pond, with the path right in front of them.
Just then, there suddenly came the sound of orderly drumming from the front.
A gust of wind dispersed the thick gunsmoke, and all the people from the mining company were suddenly rooted to the spot.
There, 200 paces away, was a long grey-white wall of people, silently watching them.
Clearly, Wilmze had taken advantage of his superior forces to set up more than one line of defense.
Old Veca felt a bitter taste in his mouth, glanced at his son, and silently began to load his gun.
Makavsky took a deep breath, took the military flag, and moved to the front of the queue: “Follow me, we can win again!”
In reality, he was well aware that the recent fight had exhausted everyone’s strength and fighting spirit. If they could rest for a few hours, perhaps they could indeed break through the enemy’s blockade.
But now, they were likely to fall at the foot of Tarnovsk Mountain.
The mercenaries began to retreat. Although the mining company had offered them a very high salary, the situation at hand was simply unwinnable. They didn’t want to throw their lives away.
But the miners gathered around Makavsky. The drumming followed, and they formed a not-so-orderly queue, slowly advancing towards the Austrian Army.
This was their home, their mines; if they didn’t fight, who else could they count on?
Before long, over a thousand miners entered the firing range of the Austrian Army’s infantry.
The Austrian soldiers, looking at the Poles who were blackened by gunsmoke and carrying many wounds, appeared somewhat surprised and forgot to fire for a moment.
Instead, it was Makavsky who shouted, “Aim! Fire—”
The miners raised their guns to shoot, then reloaded and resolutely advanced forward.
Old Veca walked, tracing a cross over his chest and murmuring softly, “Jesus, please bestow Your grace…”
It might have been an illusion, but he felt the enemy’s firepower seemed much weaker than before.
When they halted on Makavsky’s command to deliver a volley, several cracks appeared in the Austrian line of defense.
Austrian soldiers screamed in terror and began to flee in all directions.
And they seemed to have lost their nerve so completely that quite a few ran headlong towards the miners and were subsequently struck down.
Young Veca came over and pointed to the other side, “Father, it seems like there are gunshots coming from far away.”
More than ten minutes later, the Austrian soldiers on the defense line, under the stunned gaze of the miners, kneeled and surrendered.
Then, a group of soldiers dressed in various uniforms, guns in hand, emerged from the smoke behind them.
“It’s reinforcements!”
Makavsky immediately waved his hands excitedly, shouting, “We are the resistance army of the Umyan Mining Company. Thank you. Who sent you?”
But from the other side came a burst of German.
Soon after, someone shouted in broken Polish, “We are the New Songqi Volunteer Army, the Crusaders!”
