Chapter 1601: Robed in Purple?

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Lakeside — on the central sector of the Danube battlefield, Turkish cheers rang out once again!

Victory is in sight now... just one last push away!

Seeing the "Foodie Corps" battle flag, painted with pots and pans, planted once more on the position the Austrian army had held to the death, Mustafa Kara Pasha was nearly moved to tears.

This battle had been fought far too hard, and far too dangerously — perilous beyond all expectation!

The Archduchy of Austria was plainly just a country of bankers and usurers — how had it become more formidable than the old Holy Roman Empire? Could usury actually improve fighting strength?

Mustafa Kara commanded tens of thousands of the Ottoman Empire's finest Janissary warriors, fighting from dawn until afternoon, repeatedly contesting every trench, every breastwork, every fortification with Austrians far fewer in number than his own!

The soldiers on both sides fought with the utmost resolve, shooting at each other with muskets, cutting each other down with bayonets and scimitars, bombarding each other with every kind of cannon, hurling wooden-handled grenades at one another, and charging back and forth with cavalry!

Although the Austrians' individual fighting ability was far inferior to that of the Janissaries, their discipline was better and their formations tighter — they did not perform at all like a hastily expanded "militia."

What Mustafa Kara found even more incredible was that although the Austrians were few in number, they were extremely well organized, and their command was even better. Whether in defense, retreat, or counterattack, everything was executed to perfection.

The Austrian army's very limited reserves performed especially brilliantly — they always appeared at the most opportune moment in the most opportune place, and acted with the utmost decisiveness!

The battle-hardened Mustafa Kara could tell from the Austrian army's performance on the field that their commander must be a truly outstanding military mind.

On such a chaotic, smoke-shrouded battlefield, to employ a force at such a severe numerical disadvantage to this degree — that was no feat for an ordinary general!

This should be the level of men like the Prince of Condé or Marshal Turenne... but how could the Archduchy of Austria possibly have anyone that formidable? Who was commanding today?

That clownish Count Eugene? Or that pretty-boy John Churchill back from the New World?

But what worried Mustafa Kara most was not the Austrian commander in the center, but the slaughter unfolding on the left and right flanks!

The Ottoman army was clearly bogged down in bitter fighting on both flanks, already forced from attack to defense, and being pushed back step by step by the enemy.

The Grand Vizier had already sent men several times to urge him on — for the love of Allah, crush the Austrian center quickly!

Mustafa Kara was of course frantic as well — victory and defeat, life and death, now hung by a thread!

Although the Ottoman army's left and right flanks were only tasked with pinning and feinting, once they were routed, Mustafa Kara's central force would be bagged by the Austrians...

Just as Mustafa Kara was so anxious he was about to have a heart attack, heaven finally opened its eyes — the Austrians could hold no longer!

Standing atop an ammunition wagon, Mustafa Kara watched as a thousand-odd Austrian survivors fled in disorder into a stretch of forest, and a victor's smile finally spread across his wrinkled old face.

Once this wood was taken, the Austrians on the Lakeside–Danube battlefield would be split in two.

The scales of victory had finally tipped toward the Ottoman Empire!

It seemed Allah truly did watch over the Ottoman Empire...

"Send the order," Mustafa Kara said, putting away his telescope, his old face turning stern. "The Fifty-Second, Fifty-Third, Fifty-Fourth, Fifty-Fifth, and Fifty-Sixth Regiments... attack!"

The Ottoman Empire's Janissary corps had fifty-six "Foodie Regiments" in all, and apart from a few left to guard the home front, all of them were now in Austria.

The regiments under Mustafa Kara's command numbered twenty in total; fifteen of them had already been committed in rotation, and the remaining five had been held in reserve by Kara Pasha all along... now was the time to send them in!

At the edge of the woods south of Poznań Fortress, a middle-aged staff officer in his forties lowered his telescope and turned to John Churchill, saying, "General, the Ottomans have sent up five more regiments... all fresh troops!"

John Churchill was leaning against a large tree, telescope raised, his handsome pretty-boy face filled with barely concealed excitement.

"What number regiment is that now?" Churchill asked.

"Twenty..." the staff officer said. "General, so far we have identified twenty Janissary regimental flags in the central sector. If those regiments are all near full strength, we have already withstood the fierce assault of forty thousand Janissaries!"

"Good!" John Churchill nodded heavily. "Send the order — the First Army Division is to form up one-eighth of a league north of the forest!"

"Yes, General!" The staff officer saluted and turned to leave.

At that moment the crisp crack of Jäger rifles rang out — the Austrian skirmishers tasked with luring the enemy were opening fire.

Hearing the shots, John Churchill put away his telescope and, with his guards and staff officers, turned and headed deeper into the woods.

When he led his men through the forest and emerged on its northern side, Austrian infantry, cavalry, and artillery in white uniforms were rapidly forming up — for a combined force of over ten thousand infantry, cavalry, and artillery to form up quickly and adjust its formations in time was no easy matter.

It tested not only training, but also the junior officers' knowledge of mathematics and surveying! A civilization that could not count from top to bottom could never quickly produce ranks as neat as if cut by blade and axe.

The gunfire in the woods grew dense, accompanied by the Turks' high-pitched war cries — clearly the Ottoman army had launched its charge.

John Churchill had already swung himself onto his warhorse and, surrounded by a dozen staff officers, orderlies, and guards, galloped to the rear of the forming Austrian First Army Division, then stood in his stirrups and craned his neck toward the woods ahead.

By now the gunfire in the forest was growing denser and denser — shouts, screams, the explosions of grenades, even the neighing of warhorses, drawing nearer and nearer, louder and louder, more and more chaotic.

Suddenly, an Austrian Jäger in a white uniform, a rifled musket slung across his back, came dashing out at full speed, followed by more white-clad Austrian Jägers, each running faster than the last, until one after another they tumbled into a ditch... into a trench that was neither very wide nor very deep.

Behind the trench stood the Austrian First Division's troops drawn up in neat line formation; the front rank of riflemen had already knelt into firing position, their rifles leveled. Between the arrays of the four infantry regiments, the First Division's cannons had been set up, the 6-pounders all loaded with canister, their black muzzles pointing straight at the woods.

Behind the four infantry regiments of the Austrian First Division, drawn up in a single line, twelve 12-pounder short guns and six 24-pounder mortars were also arrayed in order.

The Ottoman Janissaries and the Tartar cavalry burst through the woods almost simultaneously, appearing before the more than ten thousand Austrians waiting in full readiness!

As they charged out of the woods they had eyes only for the Austrian Jägers fleeing like rabbits ahead of them; only after bursting out and seeing the fleeing Austrians tumble one after another into a ditch did they realize something was wrong — how had they fallen into a ditch? On a fine open plain, where had a ditch come from? Who dug it? And how had the Austrians fallen in? Were they not watching where they were going?

Then they looked up, and every Ottoman and Tartar was struck dumb with terror at the sight before them! Behind the woods lay a road straight to paradise! Never again would they taste the Janissary corps' rations, never again see their homes in Istanbul or on the Crimean peninsula...

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