In truth, Count Stadion didn't need to whip them up. Most of the Galician soldiers present had an old blood feud with the Hungarians.
That Hungarian cavalry raid had barely affected the western regions, where the Germans were concentrated. Many people didn't even know how the attack had unfolded.
But its impact on eastern Galicia had been devastating. Almost every village had been attacked, and after the Austrian army cut off the Hungarian forces' retreat, the reprisals grew even more frenzied.
On top of that, the two sides couldn't understand each other. There was no communication, only a struggle to the death. In the end, the Galicians paid a terrible price to wipe out the remaining enemy, leaving almost every family with a deep scar.
In the eyes of ordinary people, the simplest way to heal such a wound was to destroy its source.
The Hungarian cavalry's raid had been meant to wreak the greatest possible destruction and panic. They naturally avoided the western regions, with their tall walls, deep moats, and tight defenses.
By contrast, the poor eastern lands, the open plains, and the fields and crude villages the refugees had only just built were perfect targets.
Count Stadion had also deliberately strengthened the defenses in the west. But ordinary people had no way of knowing what decisions were being made at the top—and those decisions were perfectly reasonable. Even the senior officials in the government couldn't find fault with them.
At that time, the Poles, Jews, Rusyns, and those Russians in Galicia whose identities were unclear knew only that the Hungarians had burst into their world and slaughtered anyone they saw. The Austrian army had arrived at once, then gone to great lengths to bury their dead, tend to the wounded, and rebuild their homes.
The Poles and