The Enemy Arrived Too Late

"Perhaps we should consider surrendering."

Dembowski, who had previously argued they should fight to the bitter end, said weakly. Tyssowski soon replied in an even weaker voice.

"No. That Haynau is a madman."

"What did he say?"

"He said if we surrender, we'll be shot."

Dembowski asked, puzzled, "Then what if we don't surrender?"

"He'll hang us."

"What's the difference?"

"There is one. He said being shot is an honorable way to die, while hanging is how thieves and thugs die."

"He's certainly thought it through."

The two fell silent. The grand ambitions they had once held to revive Poland had vanished, leaving only exhaustion and resentment.

When had things started going downhill? Perhaps this uprising had been doomed to fail from the very beginning.

Just then, a cavalryman came riding back, shouting excitedly.

"We're here! We're here! We've reached our destination!"

"Wonderful!"

"Long live!"

"We've won!"

"Haha! Once we reach Drohobych, I'm drinking all their wine!"

"I'm going to bed ten women tonight!"

"Haha!"

The rank-and-file soldiers shouted excitedly, dreaming of what they would do after victory. The officers, however, couldn't share their joy. Siege warfare was no easy thing, especially without heavy weapons. It meant throwing men's lives at the walls.

They had hoped to requisition some laborers from the villages and towns along the way, but those damn locals were too clever for their own good. They'd long since vanished without a trace.

In fact, even with heavy weapons, it was quite common for a siege to drag on for dozens of days, or even months.

Once the heat of the moment had faded, all that remained was anxiety. But the officers didn't dare show it, because any emotion of theirs would be magnified endlessly among the soldiers.

And once these militiamen started running, they'd be like