Woronowicz soon received a military uniform as well.
The collar and cuffs were worn, clearly not brand-new, but they had been washed spotlessly clean.
Then the sergeant led their group to a row of carriages. Someone took Charleville Flintlock Muskets from the wagons and forcefully shoved them into their hands.
Zlatopol suppressed his excitement and looked toward the officer beside him. "Sir, are we going to...?"
"To war." The latter was extremely concise. "First, three weeks of restorative training. Then we'll teach those invaders a lesson."
For the next twenty days, Woronowicz and several thousand others trained at Zalesna Manor without returning home even once.
Yet they had not the slightest complaint. Every one of them trained with utmost seriousness.
They had thought Poland had accepted its fate of partition, that from then on they could only drift through numb days amid humiliation. They had never expected God to grant them another chance for revenge.
Naturally, the Warsaw Government had also specifically arranged for people to care for their families, issuing each household 22 Francs per month for living expenses.
Polish Government finances had collapsed soon after the defeat, and it was currently barely surviving entirely on French loans. But according to the plan Joseph had formulated earlier, Prince Poniatowski had settled most Polish veterans in prosperous cities such as Warsaw and Drohiczyn, giving them identities as Civil Servants, Police, Road Builders, and the like, dispersing them among the populace while the government paid to support them.
This had burdened Polish finances with a debt of 15 Million Francs, but right under the noses of Russia, Prussia, and Austria, it had preserved more than 35,000 experienced veterans.
The rosters recording the soldiers' information were the several Bibles Prince Poniatowski had carefully safeguarded.
Together with the 30,000 troops Poland had been