The clash at Vienna

On the morning of the 12th of September, 1683, it was time to decide the future of the world. For months, the Christian and Ottoman armies clashed before, upon and beneath the walls of Vienna in a titanic battle for supremacy over Europe. The great Polish king John III Sobieski had gathered a massive army for services of the Holy League and marched to relieve the beleaguered city. Austrians, Poles, Lithuanians, Bavarians, Tartars and Cossacks all marched to defend the greatest bastion of European civilization. Among them was the young Eugene of Savoy, a brave commander eager to prove himself in the coming onslaught.

              “I want pikemen outside the formation! It’s too dangerous for the musketeers to stray!” yelled Eugene to the few remaining men of his company. He stood alongside his retinue in front of the small formation, acting as a speartip to the small assault. They would cut down the men in front of them and leave everything else to the fledgling group of men.

         “Damn it, we can’t take much more of this, my lord!” yelled Franz, Eugene’s second in command, as he was felling down a Janissary. His face and long hair were stained by mud and blood – a fearsome sight to behold. His custom armor had been ruined and stained by all the blood spilling in the three rounds of fighting he did during the battle. Both Franz and Eugene lost track of time. Every second to come seemed like an hour and every hour that passed felt like a single moment. The enemy came in endless waves and few would break and rout. His Baden troops were exhausted but not one turned his back on their commander.

         “Can you hear it Franz? The Bavarian artillery! They’re focusing their fire!” yelled Eugene with joy in his voice. Indeed they were, cannon balls exploded in the middle of Turkish mass. Pieces of bodies flew up in bloody heaps of flesh. The new volley of deadly fire meant that the Bavarians were softening the Muslim lines for the next phase of the plan: a cavalry charge. Eugene and Franz new that, but the men didn’t. Franz gave the good news to his men who steeled themselves and fought on with even greater determination. Eugene and his retinue charged onwards, cutting and slashing the shaken Ottomans as they went. Eugene was just about to finish off a young Turk when he saw one of his bodyguards falling to his knees. Before the guard stood a brutish Ottoman officer wielding a mighty scimitar. The officer finished the guard with a few violent slashes to the neck. Eugene was surprised by the sheer brutality of the beast. The officer noticed the young commander and began walking towards Eugene. Eugene pulled a dagger from a nearby corpse, knowing he would need every advantage he could get. With confidence he approached the hulking man who was beginning to taunt Eugene into combat. The Turkish officer charged at Eugene with his scimitar. Eugene barely managed to deflect the blow and step aside. The Ottoman officer turned his back at him, a mistake. Eugene used the gap and slashed the brute’s right leg, but that didn’t even give him pause. He immediately turned around to face Eugene, slowly raising his right arm. Eugene again used the opening, but this time he used the dagger and impaled the officer in the stomach. Blood burst out of the wound, but the officer merely gave it a glance and raised his arm again. Eugene acted out of sheer panic. He raised his right sword arm across his left shoulder while still holding onto the dagger impaled into the officer. With one mighty swoop he decapitated the berserking officer and his bloody corpse fell to the ground.

         The encounter shook Eugene and he paused for a moment. He couldn’t go on. He wasn’t tired, at least not physically, but he just couldn’t go on. He turned around to his men and was just about to order a withdrawal when he saw an Austrian rider approaching. He could barely see the mass of German infantry slowly pacing into the melee, thanks to the unbearable smoke the muskets produced. The reinforcements had finally arrived. The Austrian rider was heading towards him, he looked like a courier.

         “Prince Eugene of Savoy?” asked the young man.
         “Yes, that is me, do you bring a message for me?” asked Eugene, checking his back just in case. His retinue did a fine job in securing his surrounding.
         “Indeed my lord. His Excellency, the emperor, desires your presence in his command tent. It is an urgent matter. He sent this unit of men to replace you. Your men are to fall back and join the reserve.” said the rider with utter haste, he saluted the commander and rode off to deliver more orders.

         “Franz?! FRANZ goddamnit!” yelled Eugene, looking and turning around.
         “Here my lord. Your orders?” Franz panted, he could barely stand. Fatigue was clearly visible on his face.
         “We are to fall back,” cried Eugene, trying to shout louder than the increasing cannon fire. He could barely hear himself so Franz closed in, “and join the reserve, the emperor demands my presence so I leave the command of the troops to you.”
         “Very well lord, it shall be so.” answered Franz and turned to the formation. He gestured the retreat order with his saber. The men couldn’t withhold their relief so they smiled and cheered, glad to finally leave this hellhole with their lives. Eugene found a horse behind the line and galloped back to the camp on the hill. There was no mistaking the command tent. It was huge and made of strong, golden fabric. Two men confirmed the seal on his letter and showed him in. A stable boy took care of the horse. As Eugene stepped inside he could hear a furious debate take place. He “spied” on the meeting, hoping to find out more details about the course of the battle. He came just in time to hear the emperor resting his case and giving out his final orders.

         “So it is decided. We will have to rely on that charge. Our chances are good. The charge will begin in half an hour. Those poor infantry beggars have been fighting the entire day! Good luck and may God be with you.” Having said so, the other commanders went about their business. Eugene stepped inside.

         “Ah, Eugene, a pleasure to meet you,” declared the otherwise crude emperor Leopold I, “as I have very little time I will cut the story short. I have heard of your recent recruitment into our army. I am also aware of your brother’s demise. Louis Julius died fighting in 1683. A brave fellow as I had been told. But most importantly I am fully aware of your family ties. You are an invaluable asset to me, should you prove yourself a capable commander. So far you did well, but now I hand over to you the command of the Kufstein dragoon regiment, in hopes that you will prove yourself yet again. Now off with you, there is much to be done.” Eugene bowed slightly and headed out of the tent. A cavalry major was waiting for him outside.

         “My lord, I have been instructed to take you to your regiment once you finish what business you have left. I will be here waiting for you, however bear in mind we have little time left.” Eugene nodded and headed towards his tent. There he met Franz, sitting on a crate and drinking from his flask.

         “Drinking as always are you Franz?” Eugene smiled, happy to see his trusted companion alive and well.
         “Care to share a drink with me? Tell me what the big man said?”
         “His Royal Highness handed over to me command over a regiment of dragoons, temporarily of course. Unfortunately I have no time to sit with you. Have the men ready to charge in with the reserve, I will meet you later once this is over, understood?” Eugene replied with a cold decisive voice, to his own dismay. Franz nodded his head and wished his commander luck. Eugene smiled and walked away. It was time to make history.

         The weather was stunning. It always was when a man’s life was hanging in the balance. Black clouds and golden rays of light mixed together. The smoke was almost gone thanks to the strong wind. 20000 men were waiting on the top of a hill, anxious to sweep away the Muslim army. The Kahlenberg hill was filled with mighty regiments of horse, standing in perfect formation. The Polish Winged Hussars were positioned at the centre, their marvelous wings and armor instilling fear into their own troops. To their right stood the Kufstein regiment, ready to ride in their support. Every single soldier was impetuous and filled with pride. King John III Sobieski stepped forward.

         “Dear friends, many of you are veterans of conflicts past! For years you shed blood in the name of your king. Today it is different. Today, for the first time, we fight for God, our common lord. Today is the day when good faces evil, and by the grace of God good shall triumph! We, the Holy League soldiers, fight for good, we fight for every Christian soul throughout Europe! One day they will look back at this day and say ‘those were the noble knights of their time, defenders of the faith.’ Your children and grandchildren will walk about with pride, knowing their fathers and grandfathers fought in the one true battle of good against evil! I bid you forward! Forward to DEATH AND GLORY!”

         Twenty thousand men raised their arms and cheered a mighty battle cry that shook every Muslim soul on the field. The sheer strength of their booming voices gave pause to the entire Ottoman army. The battle on the field before them suddenly stopped as both ally and enemy marveled at the sight of such a massive cavalry force.

         “Forward! Charge!” cried the Polish king, as he raised his saber and dashed into the enemy, twenty thousand men, Eugene among them, followed him. They produced a thunderous quake, adding to the shock and awe of the Turkish forces. Some tried to form up and receive the charge, but in vain. Most of the Muslim soldiers had broken their formation and fled in fear. The Holy League cavalry swept the Ottoman army aside like a violent river released from its dam. They ran over the poor infantry, cutting and slashing as they went. In less than twenty minutes the entire Ottoman army was routed.

         Eugene had just finished off a Sipahi cavalryman when he turned to his left and saw the Polish king raise his sword and declare: “Victory! We have victory! Drive them out, let them feel the taste of righteous steel!” The day was theirs, and to his own surprise, Eugene was still alive.

         The city, even though ruined, was beautiful. Eugene marveled at its architecture. Its citizens cheered and celebrated the victory that broke sixty days of siege. There were different flags hanging from everywhere. Eugene enjoyed the festivities. Suddenly he ran into Franz, holding a plate of fresh but strangely shaped buns.

         “About time you showed up sire, I would hate to eat all of these alone! They’re delicious. The bakers made them to celebrate the victory. I find this crescent moon shape quite compact to devour. Don’t remember the name though.” Franz smiled, probably half drunk. Eugene didn’t care. He grabbed a piece and ate it. The most delicious piece of food he had ever eaten. Later on in his life he would realize that the best meal was the one after a battle. For now, he enjoyed the moment. They saved Vienna, thus saving Europe from the Ottoman scourge. No small feat to accomplish.