Chapter 683: Riding Across the Vast Plains
If Drasowicz were still alive, he would have proudly added, "These are our finest troops!"
He had considered himself a veteran after just two months of "field training" in Slavonia, but the Royal Third Division had participated in nearly every engagement to suppress uprisings, accumulating a wealth of combat experience.
Janik gazed excitedly at the imposing soldiers marching in the distance.
"With them defending Marecze, the Russians will never get in," he said enthusiastically.
The second lieutenant beside him shook his head. "Judging by their direction, they're not here to reinforce us."
"Then where are they headed?"
Riding alongside the Polish Royal Third Infantry Division, General Kościuszko surveyed the endless plains ahead. Turning to Prince Poniatowski, he said:
"At the soldiers' current pace, we'll reach Kyiv in four days."
The prince nodded, glancing toward Marecze:
"I'll hold the town until the day after tomorrow.
"These young men have truly amazed me. Initially, Mozyr was supposed to lure the Russians, but they managed to bloody their noses right at the first line of defense.
"Now, a single Marecze is enough to make the Russians desperate."
Kościuszko sighed gravely:
"But the cost has been high. Ten days of defensive battles, and over 5,000 lives lost in the Mozyr sector alone."
"Yes." Prince Poniatowski nodded, recalling the strategy meeting at the French Royal Armory. "The Crown Prince was right. Committing all our forces to defense would inevitably lead to defeat."
He now omitted the "French" before "Crown Prince," reflecting a sense of camaraderie.
Kościuszko straightened his posture. "I'm increasingly convinced that the Crown Prince's plan is our only hope to save Poland."
The prince glanced at him and said, "I still think I should go instead. After all, even if I'm captured, Catherine II would likely release me."
Kościuszko didn't mock the suggestion of being captured before the battle began; he understood that this mission offered only two outcomes for himself: death or capture.
But he had to go.
"We've already decided. I'm the better fit."
The prince said no more.
King Stanisław II had tarnished his reputation domestically by courting the Tsarina to buy time for Poland's preparations. Now, Poniatowski was the only figure who could lead the nation.
And Kościuszko was undeniably better suited to commanding a battle that required rapid adjustments.
The two rode far from Marecze before the prince finally turned back. Before leaving, he solemnly crossed himself and said to Kościuszko:
"May God protect you."
Kościuszko mirrored the gesture. "May God protect Poland."
"Come back alive."
"I will. And take care of yourself."
Poniatowski didn't look back as he rode off, worried his red-rimmed eyes might be seen by the soldiers.
Kościuszko's army marched for another day. By the next morning, they had reached the outskirts of Mozyr.
As they entered a stretch of wilderness, Kościuszko suddenly stopped. He urged his horse onto a roadside mound and waved to the soldiers below.
"Do you know what lies ahead?" he called out.
The soldiers halted, scanning the horizon. After a moment, a captain responded:
"General, if we go another half day, we'll be on Russian soil…"
"Russia?" Kościuszko smiled faintly and raised his voice:
"When I was a boy, that land was still part of Poland!"
The soldiers fell silent.
Kościuszko continued:
"You may not know where we're headed, but I can tell you now—we're returning to our homeland.
"We're going to attack Kyiv!"
The soldiers exchanged stunned glances. The battles at Mozyr had been grueling, and now their general was ordering an offensive—not just against Russia, but against what had once been Polish soil!
Kościuszko pointed toward Marecze:
"Tomorrow, Prince Poniatowski will feign retreat, luring the Russians to launch an all-out assault on Marecze.
"In the meantime, we'll take advantage of their focus there to strike at their supply lines near Kyiv!
"We'll show the invaders that Poland has bayonets and cannons and won't tolerate their oppression!"
This was Joseph's strategic plan for Poland.
The vast Eastern European plains were easy to attack but hard to defend. If Poland remained purely defensive, it would be drawn into a war of attrition—one it couldn't afford.
Thus, Joseph advised Poland to use the plains' expansiveness to launch counterattacks.
The Russians, preoccupied with conquering Poland—just as they had during the first partition—would be caught off guard by a sudden incursion into their territory.
When Polish forces began wreaking havoc across the Eastern European plains, the Russians would be thrown into disarray.
Attacking Kyiv was just the first step. Though close to Russian main forces and heavily garrisoned, Kyiv wasn't the final objective. The aim was to distract and pressure General Morkov's forces.
Later, Kościuszko would follow Joseph's "script," leading his troops in a strategic dance across the plains.
The soldiers erupted into wild cheers:
"Counterattack! Holy War!"
"Show those bastards our strength!"
"Take back Kyiv!"
These were Poland's elite troops. Frustrated by being kept in reserve while new recruits fought and died, they now had an outlet for their pent-up energy.
Originally expecting to defend Warsaw, they were ecstatic to hear they'd be fighting on Russian soil instead.
When the soldiers finally quieted down, Kościuszko raised his hand again:
"This mission will be extremely dangerous. For most of us, there's little chance of returning alive.
"But we will win true freedom and dignity for our homeland!
"The invaders will have no choice but to retreat because of our bravery.
"Will you stand with me, even in the face of death?"
Every soldier shouted in unison:
"We will!!!"
Outside Marecze
Russian General Morkov stood atop a granary, telescope in hand, observing a group of Russian skirmishers breaching the town center. They were just one street away from the clock tower when a swarm of Polish defenders suddenly emerged from the rooftops, blocking their advance with concentrated fire.
A wave of frustration surged through Morkov.
This tiny town was like a wounded soldier, clinging stubbornly to life.
"Damn it," he growled, signaling to an aide. "Deploy the Kyiv Grenadier Regiment. I want the clock tower taken by noon!"
"Yes, General!"
The aide turned to leave but was stopped by the arrival of a rider galloping toward the granary. Reining in his horse, the messenger shouted:
"General! Our supply convoy near Kyiv has been attacked by Polish forces!"
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