Prelude
29th of August,1756 , Lobositz
The air was silent, as the field mice squeaked. A heavy thud of boats echoed around the fields surrounding Lobositz, as the village of Lobositz loomed above the deathly fog. Bayonets proceeded from the foggy air, and a silent click as gunpowder was stuffed into muskets. The steam from the nervous Prussian unit of Garde du Corps.
“Field Marshal Von Browne, Field Marshal Von Browne!” yelled a Austrian voice from above the Prussians.
“Shut up!” silently echoed a voice in response,
“I can hear movement, from down in the fields” whispered the voice nervously, the Prussians jolted as they saw a head stick look straight down at them,
“I think I can see something”
The Prussians though would be noticed sooner or later, thought the Commander Hans von Blumenthal, as they silently approached a fast flowing river. One of the soldiers quickly dipped a foot in, and his eyes widened from the cold. The rest of the Corps though, jumped in. The splash echoed loudly, and a few moments of strained silence followed.
“Fire!” roared a voice from above, and a ear splitting noise came from the hill, as more smoke joined the fog. Musket Balls thudded into the surrounding creek, as the puddles made it look like rain. The soldiers ran forward, as the creek slowly turned red, and bodies floated down it. Weeds gave way to the bullets, as the sand from the bottom of the creek rose.
Hans pointed his small pistol at the top of the hill, firing off a round. Bodies rolled down the hill.
“We can’t break them Hans, we have to go left!” roared a voice over the heavy sound of battle. Hans grudgingly agreed, the battle was going exactly as speculated. Now they could hear the musket fire from the main battle, the ground shook and the noise of cannons trailed towards the skirmish under Lobositz. Hans pointed to the left of the Corps,
“Move left, move around the village!” roared Hans, already moving. Though he was no coward, just trying to save his skin. More musket balls thudded around him, as Hans fired into the air, getting the soldiers to hurry up, as they splashed through the muddy waters. Hans grinned, as he saw though the smoky haze of musket fire,as he saw the clerks bring forth the horses for the company, as they nervously watched a a Regiment of Croats come running forward.
“The Croats, aim for the Croats!” roared Hans, firing at the Regiment. The soldiers who weren’t under intense fire raised themselves and churned out a volley of fire, felling many of the Croats, who stopped short and moved backwards to the safety of the village.
The Corps gratefully reached the horses, Hans raised himself on to the horse, the clerk helping him fell to the ground, screaming as a shell ripped him in half. Hans fired two shots into the air, preparing to charge across the fields.
They would’ve, if it wasn’t for the Austrian Cavalry.
The ground thundered, as Austrian Cavalry came charging down the small hills of Lobositz. The men were fearsome, come from the Alps. They were tall, well built men, who had short handle bar moustaches. There chests had shiny, fearsome armor, and to top it all up, they wielded the heavy Cuirass sword.
The Garde du Corps didn’t need to be told, intimidated by the Cuirassiers. The air fizzled as the muskets fired, Hans ducked, though shooting down one of the Austrians, the musket balls whizzed past his ears, one even drawing blood.
Hans raised himself, drawing his short saber, to find himself facing the most fearsome of the Austrians, with a sword which had cut through many Italians, Frenchman and Prussians, his face told the whole story. Hans weakily mustered forth his sword to meet the Austrians, and the heavy Austrian cuirass met his small, short saber. The difference was immediate, as the saber gave way at once, but Hans tumbled off his horse, and rolled out of the way as the horse thundered towards him. Drawing himself up, Hans drew his second pistol and shot the Austrian man, once in the arm, and another time in the face, dislodging him from his horse.
The man landed with a satisfying thud, Hans observed how the battle was happened around him, and the Garde du Corps was making short work of the Cuirassiers. Hans mounted his horse, beckoning his second in command to move the Corps forward. The fog was slowly lifting, but the musket smoke lingered around, making its way into soldiers lungs.
“Colonel! The Croats are forming in Lobositz, their preparing to fire!”
“Sir, they can cut us down from their range” reported the Sergeant.
“Then let us charge! Let us charge for the great country of Prussia, to rid these poor lands of these Austrian demons. Charge!” roared Hans, as the Garde du Corps roared along with him, beckoning their great horses on.
Hans eyes narrowed, as the wind whipped through his hair, as his officers cloak flapped like a tiger behind him. Hans drew his sword, his horse going speeds of at least 90 km’s a hour. Smoke silently rose from the village of Lobositz, startled, Hans observed closer, and jolted to find the Croats aiming down their sights at the Garde du Corps. Bullets whizzed around him, and a horse just ahead of Hans fell forward, the rider crushed horribly beneath it.
Hans sighed a breath of relief, they’d make it too the village before the Croats could fire another volley, at the last minute, in a cruel twist of fate, the final Croat fired, and the bullet thudded into Hans horses heart. Hans jumped off, yelling, as the horsetumbled forward. He hit the ground, groaning as he heard his arm break beneath him. At the last moment, the hooves of his fellow comrades horses crushed him, as a stray saber sliced his head from chin to crown. He was dead, on the fields of Lobositz.
A soldier looked back, startled, as he saw the Colonel lying crushed, on the fields behind him.
“We don’t want to to make this like a Minorca!” roared someone nearby, their words quickly whipped away with the wind. The Sergeant yelled back,
“I don’t want to be like a John Byng!” Minorca was the horrible attempt by the British to defend the small island of Minorca from the French and Spanish. They had been 10 British ships, most destroyed, and their Admiral, John Byng, had been executed on doing such a poor job.
The horses crashed over the poor defenses the Croats had set up, the hooves of the horses kicking some of the Croats in the head, killing them instantly. The Corps soldiers gleefully leaned down from their saddles, hacking at the Musketeers. When the last of the Croat Musketeers were running full pelt down the road, a nervous voice yelled from amidst the crowd of the Garde du Corps.
“Sir, sir! Genoese Fulisers!” The Genoese were famed at shooting down Cavalry, they had many victories behind their name.
“Dismount and find cover!” someone yelled, it didn’t matter what rank they filled, on this sort of battlefield no rank stood firm. The soldiers dived from their horses, finding cover behind buildings. Some were unfortunate enough to dive behind a building, only to have it blow up, along with the soldiers.
The muskets crackled, and musket balls skipped over the stone buildings, one hitting a stray soldiers leg, making him curse in disluck.
The Corps soldiers leaned from their cover, and fired off a round, almost decitmating the Genoese Regiment.
“I’ve got no more ammo!” whispered some of the soldiers amongst themselves, others nodding in agreement. But a united roar came from the east side of Lobositz, and a Cavalryman came running down the laneway, yelling,
“The Cavlry Regiment has made it into Lobositz town centre, the Austrians are nearly killed!” roared the man, and the Garde de Corps charged from their cover, roaring in victory, as the town centre exploded in a hail of cannon fire, completely stunning the Austrians.
The Garde du Corps soldiers jumped over the Austrian Defenses, stabbing the soldiers with Socket Bayonets.
Lobositz was theirs.
Bookmarks