Casca 48: The Austrian by Tony Roberts

Author:Tony Roberts [Roberts, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-04-03T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The siege continued. The slow creeping advance of the Ottomans could not be halted. Von Starhemberg tried desperately to stave off the inevitable, but a series of mine explosions eventually made the counterscarp untenable and by the end of July it had been abandoned. Now the Ottomans began to advance inch by inch up the glacis and across the moat. Mining and countermining went on daily underneath the feet of attacker and defender alike.

The bastions and walls were getting a pounding from both the artillery and the effects of mine explosions. Portions of both were falling apart and hasty repairs desperately went on at night when it was safer to do so. Wool sacks, sandbags, spiked wooden barriers and planks were all used along with mounds of earth and masonry dislodged by the mines. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, some in pieces, the result of the large explosions.

Casca and his unit had been moved forward from the walls to the moat directly in front of the Löbel Bastion. Losses amongst the regulars meant that the garrison troops now had to fill in on the front line, and the male citizens and militia manned the walls. Numbers were beginning to get thin.

The garrison unit had not yet faced an attack directly, but the trench they were in was a matter of a few yards from the foremost Ottoman lines. Nobody dared stick their head up on either side as sharpshooters were numerous and soldiers on both sides had been picked off. One weapon being utilized here was the hand bomb, a ceramic ball the size of a man’s fist with a fuse in the top, the ball filled with black powder. Vienna had a large stockpile of this weapon and a box was given to Casca’s squad.

Casca had two by his side at all times. He was familiar with the weapon, or at least, a form of this. Over the centuries the Byzantines had used a similar weapon, full of naphtha, Greek Fire, which they often threw at enemies. It was getting more sophisticated and effective now it had spread from the Middle East, and definitely deadlier.

He wiped a dirty, sweaty brow and turned around, looking at Peter. His comrade had been very quiet over the past couple of weeks. The carnage that had unfolded before him was gruesome, and to a pious man like Peter it must have been very distressing. Still, he did his job well and without complaint, and the eternal mercenary knew he could count upon him in battle.

A couple of the company had broken down with the noise, the waiting and the frantic action when the Turks had attacked. Their nerves had been worn to shreds. But most of the men remained, grimly sticking to their posts, resigned to whatever fate awaited them.

“No sounds of mining,” Casca said. He cocked his head to one side as he spoke, making a show of listening. Where they were, right in front of the bastion, someone could be digging right under their feet at that very moment.

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