Persian Empire 1845

Chapter 142 The Battle of Gyumri (Part Two)
Da da da da da da! ! !
The machine gun fired wildly, reaping the lives of Russian soldiers. The machine gunners, honed by years of training, swiftly turned the handles, reaping enemy lives like the Grim Reaper.

Despite their prowess, the Cossack cavalry were not invincible; before bullets, all are equal. They were struck by bullets and, with the passage of time, lost their lives.

The Russian soldiers in front wanted to stop, but those behind, unaware of what was happening ahead, kept advancing, ignoring anyone who tried to stop. By the time the Russians realized something was wrong, the entire Cossack cavalry in front had been wiped out.

"What's going on? This is the first time I've seen Persians fight so well."

The Russian commander leading the charge questioned, "Under normal circumstances, shouldn't the Persians be retreating when they see the Cossack cavalry?"
Before he could think it through, he was also hit by the Nadir-type machine gun. At that moment, he finally understood that the Persians had such weapons.

After a while, the machine gun needed time to cool down due to overheating of the barrel, and the Russian troops also stopped. The harvest was too good; even the Grim Reaper's scythe couldn't have been this fast.

"Come on!"

A roar came from the opposite position, and Iranian soldiers emerged from their trenches one after another, charging towards them.

The two sides quickly engaged in hand-to-hand combat; forget about firearms and cannons, at this point only bayonets mattered.

The Russian troops quickly became unable to hold out. A few men began to retreat, but the retreat turned into a rout. Some who resisted were killed by Iranian soldiers, and others were taken prisoner.

Skvortskownik was waiting for news from the front. After learning that they had begun their attack, he hoped to receive news of the capture of enemy positions, but he was soon disappointed because he received news that Iranian troops were advancing and their surprise attack had failed.

"This...this...this..."

Skowoznik was speechless; it all seemed unbelievable to him.

"Damn it, I'm going to be shot." At this moment, he began to think about his future, but as the shouts of killing grew closer, he made a decision: to ask Tbilisi for help, while holding out in Gyumri and waiting for reinforcements.

In 1837, Russia built a fortress in Gyumli, and everything developed around it, with the local population increasing to 7000. Now was the time to test the fortress's defensive capabilities.

Iranian and Russian troops fought for six hours, just as the sun was rising. They only withdrew after the last Russian soldier was captured outside Gyumri, and then advanced their lines. Their command post was also established in Shamiram.

"Report, the casualty figures are in."

"read"

The adjutant began reporting the results: 7268 Russian soldiers dead and 1285 captured. They had paid a price of 2214 men.

Most of the Russian soldiers who died were killed by machine gun fire, so achieving such a result is quite remarkable.

"A great victory, a great victory!" Soleimani exclaimed excitedly, all the things he had learned in Prussia coming in handy.

But Isfahani frowned, because the Russian army still had nearly 70,000 troops in the fortress, which would greatly hinder their upcoming battle.

According to their intelligence, the Gyumri fortress, after more than a decade of construction, had become incredibly fortified. Equipped with 77 artillery pieces and a large number of Russian troops, taking it would be no easy task. For such a behemoth, the least costly approach was siege. And that's exactly what Isfahani did, directly surrounding the Gyumri fortress. Then, they continuously transported artillery and other supplies, trying to resolve this major problem.

The consumption of artillery shells was particularly staggering in these months. The factory undertook a major overhaul to cope. The railway to Yerevan was also under construction. Workers swung their hammers until they were smoking, all in an effort to get their produce to the front lines as quickly as possible.

Skvortnik, under immense pressure, couldn't sleep and kept patrolling the fortress, preparing for the impending bloody battle.

"We need to add more cannons here, but the firepower still isn't enough... How many cannons do we have in total?"

"135 cannons... but we don't have enough shells. Based on the consumption data of a moderate-intensity battle, we can only hold out for about eight days..."

The other person was silent for a moment, then spoke.

"That's good news, better than nothing... Believe me, this damn war might be over in eight days!"

Everyone was full of confidence because their commander was certain of their victory. As long as the Tbilisi reinforcements arrived within eight days, they would be able to turn the tide of the battle.

Skvortskoy said slowly, "Prepare for battle! Especially now, we must ensure the soldiers are well-fed and distribute as much of the food we can provide as possible... This is destined to be a long battle!"

In truth, even he wasn't confident he could defeat Iran; the loss of nearly ten thousand men was enough to warrant execution. Although he hadn't dared to think about it, at this moment, the worst-case scenario lingered in his mind.

The noble officers under his command were extremely excited after receiving the order, but while they believed in their inevitable victory, the lower-ranking soldiers did not share the same sentiment. Especially the power of the enemy's machine guns; they watched helplessly as their comrades died beside them, fearing that such a day would come tomorrow.

Back at the fortress, some people went mad, constantly saying "It's over, it's over." More than 20 of them had already been executed, yet they were still saying it was over.

"Hahaha! It's over, everything is over, Russia is finished..."

An officer nearby immediately drew his gun and shot him dead, while another soldier, even bolder, shouted.

"Damn nobles, damn Tsar."

Anyone who disrespects the Tsar will be executed on the spot, a sentiment shared by many soldiers. Why did they come here? Wasn't it for the glory of the Russian Empire? But now, they've paid with their lives, and what have they gained?
Many of them were paid to come in their place, but what did they have besides a small sum of money? Their lives were at the mercy of others, and their wives and children had to contend with exorbitant taxes and bureaucratic oppression. In the past, the priests' teachings had been good to them, but after witnessing the cruelty of the battlefield, they suddenly realized the truth.

Why did I come here? Why did I have to give my life for the people of St. Petersburg? And my salary was being withheld by high-ranking officers. Since that was the case, I might as well slack off.

But the soldiers could only dream about it; faced with the whip, they still began constructing defensive fortifications. Countless soldiers piled up sandbags to build layers of firing positions, while countless others carried ammunition boxes back and forth to transport weapons.

Everywhere, the harsh sound of whetstones rubbing against bayonets filled the air. Soldiers gazed at the Iranian army outside the city, some with hatred, others with fear. They didn't know whether misfortune or death would come first, and could only watch, offering limited counterattacks with artillery each day.

　Did everyone see the meteor shower in Iran yesterday? What did you think?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)