Battles of Luzhinsky -Extract 6- by Robert Fullarton Copyright Robert Fullarton

Battles of Luzhinsky

-Extract 6

by Robert Fullarton

Copyright Robert Fullarton

The fires of the soldiers were ablaze in the deep darkness of the night, alight amid a hypnotic atmosphere of life, energy, noise and celebration, with the smell of roast pork wafting through the air. The soldiers began to improvise their own songs to the “routing of the sons of Osman” from the gates of Vienna.

“Ahh exhileration!” Declared Colonel Von Goetze in sheer rapturous delight at the company of his Saxon compatriots who shook hands, bantered, exchanged schnapps, artefacts from the caravans of the Ottoman command. These moustachioed soldiers in elegant cavalier garb, were like boys again in the moment of an amicable celebration that went right through the night, but of course some men went beyond the limit of their own self control, and went recklessly drunk, duelled, some fell into the ditches of the Burg Bastion and were subsequently hospitalised. The drunken disorderly behaviour resulted in men being imprisoned for assaulting local peasants and for having looted the local taverns, robbed the proprietor of both his clothes and his alcohol, some were caught with a whip running wildly after the bare naked proprietor who fled the scene through the side streets off Stephansdome.

Luzhinsky Penned a poem that night in his own Makeshift tent, alone, with a single candle aglow he wrote...

At the Blue lit hour

Came the signal

The charging of the snow white steed

With speed through the forest

To the confluence of the Christian peoples

Then from the plains

Came the Leopards bold and fierce,

Our heavy hearts were feather light

At the lifting of the siege

With the emptying of the firmaments

Raining forth as joy

Across the land

Light upon the living and the dead

And tonight

The living are most certainly animated

In laughter

In company of brothers

From nations estranged

But brought together in the greatest peril

Forever to sail into the unknown once more!

Luzhinsky then wrote an entry into his diary, and a contemplative message came out from underneath his youthful pretensions.

I ran away from home because I did not to be bred for a specific life. I wanted to determine my own existence, in the ways of the army. I learned how to box, to sword fight, I read the work of Arrian, Homer and Cicero, but I did not find these thrills to be enough. I refused to remain stationed at the barracks in Warsaw. We drilled and marched, we crawled through mud, for six months, I went from being a dreamer and adventurer to being a hardened and devout soldier- devout that is the duties of the soldiers call! In the barracks friendships are formed upon a superficial level, but experience in combat- like what I experienced today!- cements new names and faces into a brotherhood, which every life recalls in different ways, these impressions are unforgettable, every man seeks what is greater than himself, but can he put the feelings into words which have stirred and made him risk so much? I have of late began to pray and of late been shaken to the core of this experience called war. Existence is indeed flung upon the individual soul, and it is his burden to run, at full unflinching speed into the light of the creator, do we not do this when we ride at full capacity into the musket and the arrows of the enemy?

Lyrics to a song.. Robert Fullarton Copyright 2016

Lyrics to a song..
Robert Fullarton Copyright 2016

Schoolyard beat
Left right
Right left
Don’t think out of place
Or you’ll be mauled

Got the bruise
To the soul
But oh Lord
I out grew the wound
Oh Good Lord
We got to shed
The memories
Of the past
As the dye was cast
Deep impressions on my soul
Wonders, sorrows, feelings,
Oh Good Lord
Lead us from our ignorance
To greater pastures
These heights of youth
Are bearing down on me
And I can see the heart of love

Oh Christ did you not
Feel my pain that day?
Oh Christ did you not
See me standing in the rain?
But God you put a song inside
Me
to sing when it all begins to sting

the lesser known heart
the seldom seen man
walking away from the world
to God alone as one by one
walks to God

Battles of Luzhinsky- Extract 5 Copyright- Robert Fullarton 2016

Battles of Luzhinsky- Extract 5

Copyright- Robert Fullarton 2016

Entire lines of Ottoman conscripts were fleeing from the battle across the open fields as the Polish army of Sobieski engaged with the Ottoman right flank. Pistols were drawn and hand to hand fighting continued, while conscripts, slaves and the adolescent ranks of the Ottoman army were being pursued by units of the Polish light infantry, against the glances of their violent Ottoman overlords.

Luzhinsky’s cavalry division under Colonel Von Goetze were partially camouflaged in the colours and density of the Vienna Woods. Then at approximately 4pm after King Sobieski had made a stirring speech unto the men assembled before him, consisting of various cavalry divisions, the second heavy Cavalry division, the first and second Hussarian Guards and the Lithuanian lancers. Impressive figures in full armour, with the Hussars in steel plated uniform, as unflinching men of courage and duty on the eve of battle, being drilled and prepared for the charge towards the Ottoman right flank.

These soldiers followed Sobieski at full speed across the open planes around Vienna, out poured the great steel congregation, the cavalcade of apocalyptic warriors, drawing lances, as distances grew less and less between the ferocity and momentum of Sobieski’s forces and the Sipahi divisions. Luzhinsky ordered a detachment to follow suit with Von Goetze and lieutenant Kaminski’s guards to join in the great bulk of the charge. The war cries of the great torrents of human energy met the Turkish foe, until all were engaged and the fighting became a merciless slaughter, at the cost of Ottoman tactical errors. Luzhinsky’s heart had skipped a beat, in a moment of exhuberant, even aesthetic joy, as he forgot himself in the sounds of steel, pistol fire, of lances driving through the Ottoman shields and the colours of the green and red crescents and standards that had been flung downward, lay on the carpet of the dead below.

Von Goetze ordered his men to “draw swords and engage. Do not let the enemy retreat remember that the quicker we get this done, the sooner we can inspect the enemies caravans of supremely important items for the war effort!” Laughed Von Goetze while tangling with a young Ottoman officer, having knocked his pistol from his hand he knocked him over with a swift knock to the head and silence him with a bullet to the chest.

Luzhinsky fired his pistol into the forehead of an infuriated Sipahi horseman, to see him wobble and then turn backwards, headfirst off his stallion. The Ottoman foe repeatedly tried to re-organise their defences, but found themselves surrounded on several fronts , having given much ground and lost a great number of their attacking force. The Polish “whirlwind” continued to drive the Ottoman defenders into the advance of the German armies that pressed home their advantage. It was the end of Mustafa Pasha, his days as an army commander were numbered, three months later he was to be strangled to death with a silken cord under the orders of Sultan Mehmet IV.

The evening twilight settled over the corpses of the fallen dead, the colours of the Imperial flag, the colours of the Habsburgs flew in the western wind. The colours of Gold and Black were raised up high upon the bastions of the Burg defences, from the steeples and parapets of the churches, from the gothic “spine” of Stephansdome flew the flags and standards of the victorious armies. The colours of Bavaria, of the Veneitian republic, the flag of the Polish- Lithuanian Commonwealth and the colours of Saxony were raised in the central courtyards of Vienna, as cries and cheers rang out with men of all ages, rank and background filled with a jubilant feeling of ecstasy in the spectacle of this historic victory.

For the Turks it was a calamity and one which was a botched invasion on the central command’s account. Sobieski and Emperor Leopold gave each other warm embraces, while salutations were also exchanged between the Margrave of Baden, Charles of Lorraine’s escort, various representatives of the Venetian republic and the various Saxon generals that assembled outside the army quarters of General Von Starhemburg. Men were meeting together, from the Vistula to the Rhine, from the Gulf of Venice to the plains of Serbia, men from many nations drifted out of their formations, sharing jokes, brandy, wine and exchanged items looted from the Turkish caravans. The merriment of men sung out in song, the lights of taverns were re-ignited as Viennese bartenders returned like moles from beneath the thunderous earth, to open old barrels of beer for the haughty soldiers of several armies that exhausted the few remaining civilians with requests for food and alcohol.

Battles of Luzhinsky- Extract 4- Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

Battles of Luzhinsky-

Extract 4- Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

Hours passed on the hinterlands of Vienna the sounds of musket fire, canon blazing and men shouting could be heard in the distance from where the Polish cavalry has assembled. All the pieces were moving forward on the great chessboard, surmounting destiny, facing direct conflict, like a speedy cataclysm that was bent on conflict at the point of no return. Through the shadows and the sun rise, the armies on either side of the frontier marched in different directions.

The infantry were now well ahead of Luzhinsky, having pressed ahead of the cavalry divisions. Luzhinsky rode beside Colonel Von Goetze, Captain Plodauer, Lieutenant Karlovietz and with columns of ornate Hussarian guard marching on either side, looking prime, taut, energetic and impressive to the impressions which Luzhinsky devoured with a heart of exhilaration. Luzhinsky examined the expanse before him, the rolling hills dipping low, the grassy fringes by the forest, the streams of refugees still passing through with carts and horses passing opposite the Polish army.

Figures with Turbans, Asiatic figures in colourful garbs, elegant swords, were exposed as the Turkish scouts exchanged a volley of musket fire in exchange for the Polish guns that approached the their outer positions. Several soldiers squatted behind the upturned cabs of the local coachmen in the abandoned streets of the village, that acted as makeshift barricades for the soldiers under fire. Resistance was fierce for a short time, but the sheer numerical superiority of the Polish infantry pushed back the hasty and sloppy Ottoman retreat. Men poured through the breach in the Turkish outer defences, the charges and the sheer rage in the swift movements of the Polish positions bore the effect of an earthquake unto a flimsy anthill that had been smashed in two as pike men came forward to slay the enemy that were now exposed from their makeshift defences. There was now an exchange of hand to hand fighting between Ottoman infantry units and Polish pikemen, faces were pressed against each other, in the tight spaces of the raw, unsentimental brutality between strangers on opposite side, with the whites of one Turkish soldier baring hatred with his teeth gnashing and fist tightly clenching a dagger. After nearly a five minute grapple between with his Turkish foe, the Pole struck his knife upwards into the throat of his enemy. His bear like grip loosened, his clutch slipped, the struggle was over, the Pole released his knife in haste and the Turk fell down dead.

“Men be on your guard”, said Von Goetze cautiously as the cavalry detachment approached from behind the skirmish mopping up resistance remained.

“We have orders to find an open space to charge and engage the enemy , however we must meet up with Sobieski and Jablownowski’s command. We need to have the central Turkish positions in our sight. We will expose their right flank to the force of our lances”, said Von Goetze with an air of confidence.

The cavalry galloped on, the infantry were bogged down for a time from village to village capturing positions as the Hussars mopped up what little resistance remained. Turkish outer positions of the north were at this stage, distracted by both the massive assaults made by the Holy League forces on the left side of the Ottoman flank. However Mustafa Pasha commanded the Ottoman central positions to continue to tunnel and penetrate the Viennese bastions of the Burg defenders, and to break through. Viennese cannons continued to respond from the defenders to the now tired and beleaguered attacking force. The demoralised defenders hung on under the command of Ernst Von Starhenberg, returning fire for fire, swiftly exterminating the Ottoman sappers that failed to fill the underground defences with explosives.

The Ottoman dead were now far greater than those of the Coalition armies whose well manoeuvred pincer attack grew in its momentum by the hour. Sipahi units of the Ottoman cavalry were distracted with the central Ottoman Command’s obsession with pressing forward at all costs in capturing Vienna’s central Burg bastions, through the gates of Vienna.

Luzhinsky and the officers of the 2nd Cavalry division heard the ominous sound of war as battle grew closer in proximity by the minute. Whirls of smoke spun into the Autumn air, the noise of human rage as the colours of nations charged forward, the opening of the earth with the heavy thud of canon fire to the ground, there came the falling of officers from their steed, with men and beast, lying side by side on the cold earth. Bavarian Dragoons in Royal blue, elite soldiers of the Saxon army in yellow and black uniform, Venetian Cavalry men with feathered felt hats swung their sabres against the central lines of the Ottoman foe, as the Imperial forces continued to pour through in greater numbers.

The Turkish armies, composed of slaves, Janissaries, freemen, nobles, court representatives, Hungarian rebels, with soldiers from as far away as the territory of Sudan and young servant boys, were about the be engulfed by the ensuing Imperial army. The servants of the Ottoman army were being abandoned with the riches and treasures of a hungry and victorious enemy who were to divide and devour the booty left behind in the Turkish caravans, left standing, with beans of coffee to be discovered by the curiosities of the western nations, for the very first time.

Battles of Luzhinsky -Extract 3- Robert Fullarton copyright 2016

Battles of Luzhinsky

-Extract 3- Robert Fullarton copyright 2016

The Polish army was on edge, waiting for the call to move, camped out underneath the stars, the sounds of the horses naying beside the makeshift stables, the laughter of drunken officers could be heard, but the patriotic talk of the soldiers of all rank and file was the prevailing wind that went through the army, as a seemingly unshakeable force, like one on the brink or cusp of a cataclysm.

Many men had sore calf muscles, after a day of solid marching; others felt the saddle and of the horses had left them sore! They rested in the fields, some sleeping in tents, those of lower rank and file slept on blankets in the dew of the wet grass. The luggage and weaponry of the mobile army were sprawled out on the grass.
Several officers conversed beside a fire, roasting chicken, drinking thimble sized shots of strong plum brandy.

“The Germans are coming from the north” said one officer who sat beside the inviting odour of the chicken which was being seasoned with spices.

“Yes, I heard but who will get there first for the fight?” Said the elegant moustachioed officer that sat beside the conversant. Who had left his royal red uniform to hang and dry near the heat that rose from the radiating fire.
“Dont forget to take the food off! Check on it, turn the chicken over!”
Stressed the first officer, as he interrupted the conversation.
“I wont forget Sebastian!”
“This coalition of Leopold and Sobieski’s is going to secure our borders as well. If we can give the Turks a sound beating then we stand to extend our influence and even leave Hungary and Transylvania open for negotiation. The territories of the Hungarian rebels will be annexed too!”
“No you fools!” Said a hotheaded young officer who now joined in with the other two officers in their fireside discussion.
“Do you really think Leopold will let a rival take his prize? The house of Habsburg is a beast only wounded but not defeated. They will take their neighbour’s land, but we will be forgotten, mark my words!”

“You mean if we let them. The Holy League has given us the strongest hand in the political deck”, said the first officer in response.

“They’re weak for now but when renewed they will threaten our own borders too in good time! The Habsburgs”
On went the discussion into the night over the fire, youth discussing war, the possibilities of the future, the throwing off of the Ottoman yoke meant the liberation of new lands, but
Luzhinsky meanwhile, sat in his officer’s quarters, he prayed, drank a cup of wine and then conversed with a semi-circle of officers around the open fire. The sleep would be abruptly interrupted for the entire army, men slept in exhaustion after a day’s marching, but with spirits high and with the strength of numbers, the men were ready for the beckon call of the command to rise again when needed. Sobieski himself had been seen earlier that day in the distance, a royal cavalcade of horses passed, with the battery of the army being wheeled through, with men singing out in the mild September air. They passed like flame and steel to the fringes of the Wienner Wald.

With the cracks of dawn breaking through, the Polish army awoke from a brief interrupted rest. The standards were raised, steeds mounted, speed recovered and momentum gained. This was an army that did not want to slacken in its pace as time was a necessity to “smash into the Turkish right flank.”

It just so happened that at 4am that very morning the army of Charles of Lorraine engaged with the Turkish positions of the left flank, whose scouts had spotted the arrival of the Imperial forces from the north west. Troops from Baden, Saxony, Bavaria and Venice marched came with the Golden Imperial banners and the various colours of the nation states and kingdoms whose men marched from far and wide, thus pitched in battle.

Battles of Luzhinsky -Extract 2- copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

Battles of Luzhinsky

-Extract 2- copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

Luzhinsky was only twenty years old at the time, having finished his training as a cadet, he was now a lieutenant in the 2nd Polish Cavalry brigade. The mercenaries from Saxony, Lithuania and Bavaria marched alongside musketeers, infantry men armed with pikes (in reminiscence of a Greek phalanx of Hoplite soldiers) and pistols, with devotion and ferocity against the Turk.

Luzhinsky looked up to Colonel Von Goetze who rode beside him on his horse, that strode forth, in red and white garments, with a drooping black moustache, a felt hat, whose cape flew in the wind. The colonel was a Saxon who was sent from the Electors’ office to train the troops at Warsaw’s Royal Military Academy. The tactician was a moral man, in the midst of war, he had a conscience and a name for being a professional, a strategic man, a cartographer, a man of elegance and efficiency in the moment of action.

“Things are tight for the Viennese right now. It is rather a great weakness in their rule which has left their country wide open for an invasion!”

Said Von Goetze to Luzhinsky as he rode beside him as if he were his adjutant, but Luzhinsky was indeed being groomed for such a position and indeed the close proximity of their common desires had made Luzhinsky into the hungry protégé to the tactician.

“That is so sir”, said Luzhinsky merely listening, while hanging on his words with interest.

“Yes, large scattered armies, lack of central control, unity in the Habsburg domain. There are too many squabblers in the nobility, that have been chasing rebels in Bohemia and made it their business for the ruination of the northern kingdoms. So they have savagely blinded themselves, this former Samson of strength made the rivers of the nations flow with blood. It was a nightmare which ended in the deaths of my parents and the sacking of my town by Wallenstein’s murderous rogues.”

“Well sir! Why do you now come to the aid of the Habsburgs?”

“Interesting that you should ask that question, Arnold. You see I serve the Polish army, and King Sobieski himself. I have made my living from my tutorials and my field work. King Sobieski has a treaty with Leopold of Austria, for the defence of Vienna and now they have been under attack for at least four days. With the call for action and the cry for help it seems all has been apparently forgiven and forgotten between the northern Kingdoms and the Imperial south, which is greatly controlled by the Habsburgs of Austria. I am pious in my faith and devout in my duty, I execute it with great precision, I’ve spent my life travelling through much of Europe and now at this stage in my life I fear the further expansion of the Ottoman foe, so I have decided not resign my position. I represent Poland to a certain extent, but I am always a Saxon, whose homestead was burnt when I was an adolescent and these ashes rose to become my armour and I am now a different man entirely.”

“Interesting. I do not blame you for feeling such sentiments. It must pain you to remember the past and the shame of the Imperials on the Northern rebels. But I want to ask you how the armies should mobilise? What is the strategy of the generals? So far, as you know it to be?”

“Well siege resistance requires the security of all passages, a solid defence of all positions means destroying enemy sappers, there must not be a chink in the chain of defences! If the Turks are held at the walls of Vienna then the Polish and Imperial armies will have room to manoeuvre! Their focus is on holding out until the relief arrives. It is the initial phase, our brothers from Baden, Saxony and Bavaria have sent messengers and scouts to us to inform the Polish command on the movement of their armies from the west.”

“What is the second phase sir?”

“Direct contact with the enemy upon a point of weakness in their lines, to breach those lines and create a haemorrhage of men, make them desert and spread the fear among their hearts. We will fight piece by piece with the Sipahi, and hand to hand with the Janissaries, but we need plenty of open ground to charge. With the swift waves of the cavalry we have to hit them on their right flank and catch them unawares. The Janissaries are good fighters, they are however a horrific foe to fall into the arms of. It will be like dogs in a ditch, that unfortunately is the diplomacy of men in such moments!”

“Well their reputation precedes them sir and it is one of death and slavery! I saw the Hussars march forward this morning at first light and I have to tell you that I knew then and there that I wanted to join them! Is there any soldier more like unto an archangel? In action they are said to be like eagles hunting hares! Their ornate steel plated armour, their mounted feathers and fearless disposition have given them a name as truly brilliant warriors and I have to be like them!”

“Well if that is what you truly want then I will have a word with Colonel Kaminsky and give him a character reference on your behalf and have you sent for training at the nearest garrison. Just get yourself promoted to captain, I will help you reach the maturation of your military aspirations. Now first let’s s focus on tomorrow’s fight, rest, march and smash their positions into splinters!”

The colonel laughed and dismounted from his horse, giving orders and joking with the officers at his side, Luzhinsky in his rigorous youth was staring on candidly as the army settled down into the dark environs of the countryside. Thousands of men in multi-faceted appearance, the raising of tents, the roasting of pork, the rising charcoals unto the dark seascape matched with the noise of a boisterous men together in the fields made a great impression on Luzhinsky as if this were the great adventure of his time.

My soul is hungry -by Robert Fullarton Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

My soul is hungry
-by Robert Fullarton

Copyright Robert Fullarton 2016

Man is hurt
And he hurts in return
But where are we now?
From hence we came
to the root of animosity?

If life cannot be lived
And endured for much longer
Could we live on
And love for perhaps another?

I have seen the beauty in your
Pale bright Eyes
And it has been enough to make
Me smile
While I waded in the darkness

I have seen the sunshine
In your heart
And it has been the light
Bursting forth in day
From the great assault of the night

The prayer in the night
Is a candle
In the mass of the murky universe
A sword of great conviction
And my voice cries out
As one creature
Whose soul is hungry
On the plains of time.

Luzhinsky's Battles Extract 1- Copyright Robert fullarton 2016

Luzhinsky's Battles

Extract 1- Copyright Robert fullarton 2016

In a log cabin at the fringes of Gustavia there dwelt a man called Arnold “Iron leg” Luzhinsky, who was a retired, wounded, weary, former colonel and mercenary for the Austrian cavalry divisions, though he was thoroughly a Polish patriot in body and soul. His ancestors were of mixed, Polish, English and Saxon blood. His right leg had been shot through with an iron ball the “size of a fist” or so the story goes while fighting the Turkish army at the battle of Zenta. 

His right leg had been amputated and in its place there was an impressive, almost ornate iron leg, which had been handcrafted by a silversmith in the back streets of Prague. Neither light nor sound was extinguished for ten hours of fine labour, by a silversmith and an artisan. This was to be the perfect “memorial” of a war wound that acted as a reminder of how far he had come in these violent wars that shaped the power system of the Balkans. The features of a cavalry officer, the lance, the sabre, the shield and emblem were intricately shaped upon the iron leg, where the calf bore the symbol of the Habsburg eagle, with gold dust for the royal crown and in remembrance of his loyal days of service.

Luzhinsky towered above most men at a stature of 6 ft 5, with a fine mane of steel grey hair, he bore a faint resemblance of his former self, his tremendous sense of daring, adventure, athletic tone and presence had diminished in time. This was indeed Luzhinsky late autumn in life, where he had increased in weight and had become a fretful and insular in his isolated home.

In those days every village, every man, woman and child gave pledges of allegiance to the powers of the region, whether it was the king of the Habsburgs, the Holy Roman Emperor, the Doge of Venice or the Sultan of the Ottoman realm. A quiet simplicity could exist at times in the humdrum routines of the peasant with their rural and humble existence, however by the borders of the realm, fear and war fever could be stirred up to the advantage of the nobles, with militias formed, mercenaries banding from far and wide into the ranks of every army.

Luzhinsky had fled the family home to fight for the Polish armies commanded by King Jan III Sobieski for the urgent defence of Vienna. It was 1683, a turning point, the high water mark for Ottoman expansion and control over the Balkans and their plans to press further into the continent. Luzhinsky’s patriot zeal for Poland was welcomed in an army which possessed a good fighting spirit flying high in the marching columns of the soldiers. Steel plated Hussars, heavy cavalry divisions, rode beside the light cavalry, who wore fine Cavalier like costumes and gave command over the pike baring infantry men that marched ahead of them. Their were ball-bearing musketeers, men toiling over the movement of the cannons lugging them in near exhaustion over the hills. Speed was to be achieved for the sake of the defence and the treaty between the Polish crown and the Habsburg crown, honour was at stake here, but each man wanted glory as well, for the men too well that the armies of central Europe would be converging on the planes of Vienna, it was a matter of timing, hearsay of the German and Italian armies had to be clarified as a pincer movement and for the flanking of the enemy positions had to be achieved.

Onwards galloped the Hussars in check and in pace with the units of the light cavalry. The sun rose in the dark lands of southern Poland, and the Hussars, armoured and fierce as they were in their resolve were like unto angles on the last day of the Earth. The sky seemed to burn at the edges of the landscape, whose banners and colours blew in the breeze by the bearers of the army.