Wizczeck's body was never found.
This was not uncommon in battles against cavalry. After more than a dozen warhorses had thundered past, all that remained along their path was blood and mangled flesh.
Janik gripped the hilt of his saber tightly, veins throbbing on his forehead. On stiff legs, he walked step by step to General Wojciechowski and said hoarsely:
"General, give the order."
The latter nodded gravely. "I need to discuss the tactics with General Madalinski."
Janik suddenly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot as he roared, "Please give the order! Now!"
Wizczeck had been about the same age as him when he first enlisted. Janik was still alive now, yet Wizczeck had given his life in his very first battle.
It made Janik feel like a deserter shamefully clinging to life.
General Wojciechowski patted his shoulder. "I'll assign you the main assault."
"Yes!"
Janik's roar swept through the entire grove, even drowning out the distant rumble of cannon fire.
At three in the afternoon, Kutuzov learned that the elite Cossack Cavalry had unexpectedly been stalled by a small group of Polish Infantry, causing their surprise attack to fail. His expression immediately darkened.
He summoned several senior officers and was in the middle of arranging the phased withdrawal from Minsk when a messenger officer, his face covered in blood, came galloping toward them, slumped crookedly over his horse. He called weakly, "General, send reinforcements at once..."
Kutuzov frowned. A staff officer beside him had already recognized the man. "General, he's from the Dokhturov Corps..."
Kutuzov's heart tightened. He hurried closer to the messenger officer. "Reinforcements? Why haven't you withdrawn?"
The Dokhturov Corps was the force of over five thousand men he had sent to conduct a feint. According to the plan, once the cavalry force carrying out the surprise