Battle of Crlijeni (1855)
The artillery battery had been thundering all night, relentlessly, and in a seemingly endless fashion. Pounding and turning the ground into rubble, these massive machines of death had become a regular rhythm to a veteran soldier, sometimes becoming another part of the environment around him. Even writing a letter, with the very ground shaking beneath, became another simple task to do in such conditions for a man of experience. Indeed, Alexander had only just noticed that the cannons had started again, as he scribbled away at a small slip of paper upon his desk.
To the honorable, General Alfons von der Tann,
Hopefully Herr Tann, at this hour you have received my report from earlier this week. I fear the rain has prolonged my messages to you, and in doing so, has endangered my position substantially. Perhaps, you will grant me time to explain.
The Turks have remained stubborn, as it seems they have across the campaign, retreating from their position earlier this week, to a small village about 20 miles south from your headquarters. My battalion encircled them earlier this morning, but they have dug in at a small village, only about a mile away from the mountains. They repulsed our initial attack with only 400 men, driving out my unit and forcing my to withdraw my men immediately. I fear the village has given them significant terrain advantages, despite our numerical and mechanical superiority. I cannot directly assault their position with my 900 men, as their defenses are carefully protected with a light, yet easily defensible forest.
As of this afternoon however, scouting reports suggest that the village has significant armaments stockpiles and a advanced armory hidden underneath several of the local homes. As a result, I deem it necessary to launch a second attempt at storming the village, despite the unfavorable weather and terrain. The artillery, though insignificant in quantity, has begun a barrage of the village, though I believe the guns are doing little to such a defender. If my attack fails, and I am forced to retreat a third side, I will be forced to request another detachment from the First Southern Army, assuming of course the defenders are not reinforced by a local Ottoman unit.
I shall send word as soon as possible,
Brigadier Alexander Kremvera.
Alexander rose from his chair, and quickly ushered over his attendant, a boy no older then 15. He trusted the letter into his hands and ordered him to deliver it as quickly as possible, before storming out into the muddy rain. Several pockets of soldiers were bundled up behind the large barricade, unable to sleep beside the massive guns. One of the artillery officers was bundled up besides his field gun, quietly humming something to himself. As Alexander approahced him, he rushed to his feet, courteously saluting his superior.
"Officer Reinsvad?," Alexander said, gripping his sabre on the left side of his waist.
"Yes sir." He replied carefully, closely maintaining eye contact.
"Aim the guns to the left side, hit a few trees while your at it, I'd like to clear a path for our infantry." The officer rushed off to the battery, yelling something in Croatian before scurrying off to shout out orders. In the mean time, Alexander hurried to his horse, quickly mounting and riding to the left flank of the camp, where the field officers were. He vaguely shouted out orders, calling his infantry officers to create order, and position their troops into standard marching formation. The Brigadier then scurried off to the other companies across the base, calling the army to prepare for a assault. As the cavalry slowly formed up into position, Alexander was joined by several fellow officers, lining up next to the Brigadier. Officer Ternzlas, a young Austrian officer, born of noble birth and title, galloped up to Alexander, who was tightly gripping onto his blade.
"Sir, may I ask you something?"
"Is it stupid?"
"No, sir."
"Then go ahead."
"Why have you ordered the weak left flank to be covered by all our artillery fire while ordering the right and the center to frontally assault? Surely the center will break before the left can get through."
"The center and the right are not assaulting frontally."
"But sir, are they too sit behind and watch the battle?"
"The center and the right are delaying, young Ternzlas. I want to give these amateurish Turks a elegant show of deception, before they most definitely crumble. That will be all, officer."
Finally, the trumpets of war beat their deathly tunes, and the pounding of guns was silenced by a thundering of feet. Indeed, the left slowly marched up the hill, guarded by a heavy barrage of artillery. The infantry made their way up, holding their line formation carefully, before finally erupting a series of shots upon the hill in the distance. As the left flank became covered in smoke, the right remained static, with many of the officers becoming uneasy. The left side was under a terrific wave of shot and shell, with Danubian men slowly making their way up the hill. Suddenly, in the distance, the Turkish flag shifted from the center to the right, the perfect opportunity for the officer.
"I fancy myself a gallop this evening, Foward!"
Upon that call, the center and the right broke formation and rushed up the hill in a glorious spectacle of cheers. Alexander inched forward, step by step, until finally, he had broken into a full charge, racing up the hill. Trotting over rocks and barriers, Alexander rushed into the heart of the engagement, pushing closer to the foolish Turks who he had had so simply deceived. Finally, the crackling of the guns emerged from the village, flying a current of bullets upon the charging crowd. In the distance, he could see Turks kneeling, firing in groups upon the running soldiers, who firmly were gripping their rifles to themselves, as if it were their own life-force. Alexander followed, reaching for his old handgun and thrusting his horse onwards, faster and faster, until he ignited the flame of his weapon upon the rising cloud of smoke.
He rushed his hand to the sheath, ripping out his sabre and continuing his charge onwards. The ground slowly grew flatter, and after a brief moment, he found himself behind a line of Danubian Regulars, reorganizing to fire a volley. The blast lit, and the regiment disappeared into smoke, forcing the cavalry to rush to the center, where it became clear hand-to-hand fighting had begun. The horses regained momentum, trotting towards the Turkish fighters, who they collided with. Alexander swung his sabre, dripping with anxiety, colliding his blade with a Turkish bayonet. The soldier was no older then twenty, with dark skin and fair brown eyes. He probably was a farmer's son, drafted into the army in the call of honor. But bearing no ill-will to the men of the north. The boy had slipped to his knees, blocking the Bohemians sabre once more, before succumbing to the ground. Alexander, without time to contemplate, drifted down his blade once more, catching it cleanly between the boys eyes.
Alexander hurried around, distracted as the young Turk collided with the dirt. For a brief moment, Alexander quickly became terrified, mesmerized by the cruelty he perceived to have embodied. A bullet swung by the Brigadier's horse, forcing the officer to spin around again before re-gaining his conscious, rushing off with the cavalry as they regrouped. Turkish rifles began to fire upon the cavalry, who had repaired their broken line, rushing off around a small stream, bringing them in a forested area. Alexander raced along side the banks of the stream, watching the two sides exchange volleys atop the treeline. Stragglers raced around the hill, rushing into the thick of the battle as shells erupted around the area.
Once again, the Turkish flag re-appeared in sight, only a couple hundred meters away. The remaining cavalry raced up the hill, avoiding the volleys as they exploded around the infantry lines, which had deteriorated into small pockets of firing groups. The tide of battle was unclear, but it looked dim from the forest. Nonetheless, Alexander raced on, trailed by 47 fellow cavalry men, until they reached the left side of the battle.
Across the field, scores of dead had littered the hill, with craters and broken artillery pieces scattered around. The Danubian Regulars were slowly withdrawing, covering their retreat with continuous sets of volleys, still covered by a pounding artillery unit. Alexander galloped to the nearest infantry officer, ordering his side to orderly withdraw, but pull the Turks off of the hill at any costs. With that, Alexander commanded his officers to summon several nearby Infantry regiments, and march them to their current position, between the center and the left. The officers hurried off, leaving the Bohemian to fend for himself. Alexander scurried off back down the streamline, rallying forward routing soldiers back into their positions, who were slowly beginning to force the Ottoman lines back.
He exploded several more guns shots from his antique pepper-box, while scrambling for artillery support. As the center line stabilized, the officers returned with 100 regulars, most of whom had been lost across the battlefield. The regulars pushed west, towards the left flank, just along the slope-edge of the hill. As the regulars emerged from the tree line, they were met with a frightening sight. The Ottoman soldiers had counter-attacked the retreating left flank off of the hill, forcing them further back. As this was a sorrowing sight for the common-soldiers, it was the perfect opportunity for Alexander. With the hill now undefended on the left, Alexander ordered the regimental officers to immediately engage the pursuing Turkish force, while he swung around with his cavalry atop the hill summit.
Charging up the hill, the Turks quickly realized that they were becoming enveloped on the left flank. Quickly, they spread out the lines, and re-directed fire at the cavalry, which had now successfully seized the hill top. Alexander prepared for another charge down the hill, but his cavalry was met with a string of Ottoman volleys. As the bullets soared, many men fell to the ground, and indeed, like the force of a wave, a bullet struck the young officer, right in the shoulder.
But as Alexander collapsed to the floor in agony, dragged off by comrades, he pleasantly watched the left-flank counter-attack, and tear down the Turkish flag, smiling all the way...