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Siege events December, 1655

21 Nov.  1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend:

From noon on 19 November to 21 a formal cease-fire is in place. The 20^th brought more talks and an exchange of letters. The Swedes begin intensive preparations to do a regular ‘inzynieryjno-artyleryjkiego’ (engineering-artillery) investiture of the fort.

22 November 1655

To His Excellency, General Burchard Muller Von Der Luhnen

My Lord:

You asked me to report with exact fidelity the mood within the fortress, the first days of the siege.  I try to do this as truly as possible below, by using examples, so that my commentary will be unnecessary.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon and the daily procession was still winding around the parapets.  A shrill anxious cry broke out.  “The Swedes! The Swedes are coming!”

“Be Joyful Brothers!” The Prior cried out. “Lift your hearts to Heaven. The hour of miracles and triumphs is approaching!” Grant Us Your Protection, Our Mother and Queen!” I suppose he is nothing if not consistent.

When the guns started smashing the walls, the Priests and Brothers responded with another religious procession since nothing lifts the spirits of the fighting men better than the sight of the holy sacrament carried calmly by the cloistered clergy. The monastery cannon matched the Swede’s barrage with flame for flame and thunder for thunder, with the gun crews working to the last of their strength and breath, until the rock seemed to be quivering under them and a thick canopy of smoke spread over the entire hilltop.

Who could have prepared people who had never stared into the scarlet eyes of war for that never-ending roar, the muzzle blasts that split the smoke like lightning, the terrifying whistle of grenades passing overhead, the iron clatter of solid shot leaping along the cobbled passageways, the dull thud of stone projectiles against the monastery walls, the high ringing sound of glass spilling out of cracked and shattered windows, the flash of bursting firebombs, the hiss of shrapnel, the crack and rattle of collapsing timbers, the chaos and destruction everywhere around them.

It seemed to many of the peaceful, contemplative Brothers working at the guns, and to the many others among the defenders who’d never heard a shot fired near them in anger, that they had tumbled into Hell.

Nor was there a single moment of rest of relief in all those terrifying hours. There was no air for the lungs choked with acrid smoke.  All that came their way were fresh flocks of cannon balls swooping down upon them, and all they heard echoing hour after hour in their deafened ears were frantic voices shouting from every corner of the fortress, the church and the monastery buildings.

  “Fire! Get some water here! Water!

  There! On the roof! Get some axes up there!”

In time the plaster and lime dust erupted in suffocating clouds from the pounded buildings, thickened that deep curtain and obscured everything. The world seemed to vanish in eternal darkness.

The priests brought out sacred relics to exorcise that blinding sulfur laden smoke so that their cannoneers could see where to shoot, and the chaotic roar changed from a constant uninterrupted sound into a measured gasping, like the thick breath of an exhausted dragon. But suddenly music welled from the highest tower, an ancient hymn, ‘Bogarodzica – She who gave birth to God.’ Trumpets crying out in perfect harmony spilled out their crystal notes and sent them flowing down everywhere at once, even as far as the Swedish gun posts; and soon human voices joined the horns and bugles, and the sacred words echoed among the iron roars, the hiss of shrapnel, the shouts, the grinding crashes, and the rattle of musketry all along the walls.

     “…Mother of God, the Maiden,

          She whom God gave renown, Maria…!’

Here several dozen firebombs exploded, one after another, rafters and roofing slates rained down on the singers; a cry of “Water!” crackled through the air, and the anthem soared as yet another swarm of explosive shells rained down on the buildings.

   “….From your son, our Master / There will come to us,

                He will send to us,  /   Times of fruitfulness and plenty.”

A substantial fraction pushes for conciliation at every meeting within the Definitorium, but Kordecki seems set in his course for a while yet.

Your Obedient Servant,

‘Szczurecki’

22 Nov, 1655 (evening)

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

The besiegers’ approach works were begun in earnest today. They started to build the approach trenches and artillery battery redoubts facing the north and south walls of the fortress. The work of the approaches began in the night of the 20 and continued on the 21^st. From the north, they began at 120-125 Roman rods (360-375 meters) from the fort.

The ‘P1’ communications trench was built toward Bastion BIY ( Saint Trojcy)  redoubt R2 was laid out 100 rods away, to the left of the position of the first artillery battery . 

From the South trenchwork ‘P1’  was begun at a distance of 175 rods (525 M) from the fort.  It is oriented toward the fortess’ main gate. Set out on the left side at a distance of 100 rods from this gate was the artillery redoubt R1.  From these redoubts, on the afternoon of 21 November, the Swedes began sharp and intensive artillery fire at the north and south fronts of the fortification of Jasna Gora.  Gen. Muller writes to Krakow, to Field Marshall Arvid Wittenberg to ask for reinforcements of sappers, heavy cannon and infantry.

With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander

P.S. I am following the convention of my engineers who call the first redoubt in the north 'R1' and in the south 'R1' also, even though 2 with the same name may be confusing.

23 November 1655

To Adolf Wengle of Brest

My Dearest Brother:

This was an interesting occurrence on the walls this morning.  A young Novice was assisting with another of the guns on our bastion.  A fighting noble by the name of Babinich was complaining about the inaccuracy of the Swedish artillery firing from the South:

“Everything is going over the roofs and coming down on us!” Said Babinich.

“But can they reach us from the other side?” Said the Novice.

“Why not?  Does that worry you to much, little brother?”

“My lord”, the trembling lad replied “ I thought that war would be a terrible experience but I never imagined just how terrible it could be.”

“Not every bullet kills a man.”

“The worst are those firebombs, those… those grenades, Have Mercy, Holy Mother! Why do they burst like that, with such an awful roar, and hurt people so horribly?”

“Let me explain it to you, little father.  Once you know how something works, you see, it’s never that frightening.  Most solid shot is just plain stone or iron. But a grenade is hollowed out inside and packed full of powder…”

“Jezus of Nazareth!” cried the little novice.

“… and in one spot there is a little opening for a twist of cartridge paper, or sometimes a small wooden plug.”

“A plug! Mother of God! A plug?”

“That’s right. And in that plug is a combustible fuse, or wadding soaked in nitrites, which catches fire when the shot is thrown out of the cannon.  Well the way it should work is that the shell hits the target with the plug, knocks it inside, and touches off the powder.  But it doesn’t make much difference how the grenade lands because sooner of later the fuse burns down far enough anyway…’

And suddenly Babinich broke off, jerked his hand into the air and went on swiftly: ‘There, look! Look! Here’s a good example!”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” the little Brother shouted at the sight of the grenade that came down towards them.

Meanwhile the bomb fell into the space behind the wall and started bouncing on the cobblestones, whirring and whirling like a spinning-top with a thin wisp of bluish smoke trailing after it, until it rolled into a pile of wet sand that sloped all the way up to the parapet where the men were sitting.  It landed there with the fuse up, but the sulfur plug went on burning in it because the smoke steadied and thickened at once.

“Hit the ground! Get down! Get down!” terrified voices lifted all around them but Babinich leaped up, slid down the sand pile to the trapped projectile, grasped the smoking plug with the speed of lightning, jerked it out and holding it up in the air called out: “Get up! It’s alright! It’s like a thoothless dog now! It can’t hurt a fly!”  Laughing out loud all the while. 

I should mention that while we were preparing Jasna Gora for the siege, we built sturdy timber inner walls along the inside of the main curtain walls.  All they are, are heavy green timbers wedged and leaning up against the ledge of the wall, at a 50 degree angle. This protects against some cannonballs flying over the monastery and hitting from the back, but mostly it is to create a safe place to walk below them.  There is a constant clatter of falling stone work and shell fragment down onto these timbers, and onto the open cobblestone ways.  No one goes in the open at any time anymore. Since they are green, they won’t burn easily, but we sprinkle them every day with water and sand anyway for safety.

Today some dangerous fires started in the buildings from the shells and red-hot shot, but with thanks to Our Lady we put them out after a few hours.  We lost some stores.

Joseph Wengle

(fictional letter adapted from the Deluge)

23 Nov. 1655

To His Distinguished Excellency General Burchard Muller

Thank you again for sending your envoys, and for the opportunity to discuss with them your concerns. We of course agree that the King’s command must be obeyed and that you are within your rights in seizing the Village of Czestochowa.  But I must point out again that the order concerned Czestochowa, not Jasna Gora, which has to be exempt since it was not specifically listed.  Neither the Church nor the monastery is obliged to accept Swedish occupation.  Which is why we beg Your Distinguished Excellency to leave in peace both our Community and the Church, which is dedicated to the Glory of God and His Holy Mother, so that the worship of His name may be uninterrupted here, and so that we many continue to pray for the good health and success of his Illustrious Majesty.  We, in the meantime, humbly commit ourselves to the kind offices of Your Distinguished Excellency, confident that we may rely on them in the future as we have before.

With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander

(fictional letter partially adapted from the  Deluge)

24 Nov 1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

The work on the Swedish siege approaches continued on the 22^nd and 23^rd of November. On the north front they dug an extension to trench P1 and set out on the 23^rd to the left side a siege redoubt R1 for a battery or artillery, located 70 rods (210 meters) from Bastion BIV  Saint Trojcy. They set up their cannon at this redoubt and opened fire on the northern wall of the monastery. To the South they lengthened the entrenchment P1 oriented toward the gate rampart of the fort so that they could hit the fortress (bastion BI Saint Jakub and BII Saint Barbara) with a crossfire (krzyzowym ogniu) .

25 Nov, 1655

To Adolf Wengle of Brest

My Dearest Brother:

The bombardment by the Swedes has been hot, but we give them some back as well.

Let me tell you about how it goes.  First of all, we have plenty of gunpowder to fire often for the next several months, but obviously not at full tilt day in and day out.  In fact we have our own powder mill and a mountain of saltpeter, and one of my duties is to make fresh powder, but I will save that story for later.  We try to keep the rate of cannon fire up, however, so that our tormentors have to keep their heads down at all times. Understand that we do not keep quantities of powder up with the guns – that would be too risky.  We have a heavy leather pouch where we keep the next charge, a fat little sausage neatly packaged in fine linen. That is kept near the gun, always ready for a quick reload.  We always have to be ready to act, so we always are on the alert. We also keep four to six charges in a heavy oak chest in a secure and shielded place near the gun, near where our ‘ready’ crew stands by, that is 30 seconds away, so that in the event of a general assault we can immediately have the guns firing at high speed.  Within 2 –3 minutes, we would receive fresh charges from the staging magazine in each bastion, where we keep perhaps another10-20 ready rounds for each gun. This would be refilled in turn from the main arsenal, the deeply buried magazine of which we call the ‘realm of  Saint Barbara’ in honor of the  Sainted patroness of Artillery.

As soon as we fire we reload so that the gun is always ready to be primed and fired, but in general, we are not in a hurry (when in a hurry we can shoot the small guns 3 times a minute, and the 12 pounders a bit better than once per minute). To conserve powder, sometimes 10 minutes pass, sometimes an hour or more passes, before we fire that particular gun again.  Only one man at a time performs his chore, so that the number of men exposed to fire up on the ramparts is always minimal.  It occurs to me that you have never served a piece, so I will explain the steps that I now do so often it is truly as natural as breathing: 

First, the vent tender seals the vent with his thumb, wearing a heavy and dampened glove. The ensures that any sparks within the gun will not glow to life from a fresh wind. Then we search the piece with a ‘worm’ like a corkscrew, to clean out any bits of smoldering cartridge-case linen – twice to be sure; sponging it once wet, once ‘dry’, to quench any spark and to cool it.  Then we charge the gun with a linen bag of powder, and ram the bag home down the muzzle with a ramrod, giving it 3 taps to be sure it is well seated (when we have time!). The cannon ball, or case shot, follows, with some cloth for wadding to ensure the ball does not roll out. Then the vent tender ‘pricks’ the bag of gunpowder through the vent with a brass wire, until you feel the crunch of the powder corns.  If we expect to fire right away, he primes now with medium-coarse grain gunpowder until there is a small pile on top of the vent (which we cover with a big leather glove, least a stray spark surprise us), but if we expect to wait more than 10-15 minutes, we delay that step.

Then the gun is aimed along a route where a general assault would take place; while we go back under cover to wait, or go on to serve the next gun.  Just before we actually fire, we prime (if necessary) and the gunner resets the aim for someplace where we can cause the Swede the most irritation at the moment, then the gunner shouts ‘dai…ogien!’ (‘give….. fire!’) and the bombardier touches the slowmatch to the priming powder in the touchhole and BANG!

At night the Swedes do their serious work, so we are careful to always aim the guns in twilight where we think they will be working an hour or two later, and when we fire we are often enough rewarded with the sound of distant screams and shouts.  Alas the gun jumps back so that the aim is spoiled for a next shot, but Father Dobrosh has a cleaver scheme.  He has a wooden frame set up pointing toward a promising night target, and then we roll the cannon back so that it is in precise alignment with the frame. Though this method is not exact, it is close, and anyway, we usually will be firing slightly in front of the target so that the cannon ball bounces toward it. On nights when the Swedes are particularly busy, we light the pitch lanterns along the walls, so that we can see the Swedes even 80 rods away.  Although this helps them aim at us as well, we are better protected than they are. Also, we have illumination shells and rockets that can briefly light the sky.  Last night it was very cold, and the hungry and cold Swedes would cluster around a fire, but we would soon enough send a cannonball their way, and out of the darkness it would fall among them like a spirit of vengeance and destruction.  The cook fire would burst apart, scattering showers of sparks and embers high into the sky, and we hear them howl in terror and anger. As the night gets longer and colder, we even fire more often, so the guns say on our behalf “you want to wear us down?  Try it! We accept your challenge” Through these tricks, we keep the Swedes jumping all night – would not want them to freeze, would we?

26 Nov. 1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

To delay the Swedish work on the siege approaches to the north, the defenders of Jasna Gora prepared a counterattack. A few hours after midnight on the 25^th of November, a force command by Peter Czarniecki launched a sally against redoubt R1 and R2.  Forty volunteers took part in this attack.  Supporting Czarniecki was M. Krysztoporski, Bastion  Saint Rocha’s commander, and Janicz , commander of the Fortress Garrison.) The sally force had to first uncover and exit from the small ‘tajemna’ or sally portal built into the right shoulder of bastion BIV Saint Trojcy, and then crept silently along the right side of the Swedish redoubts R1 and R2. They passed R1 entirely, and attacked from the rear (of the side of the entrance to the redoubt found with their necks).

They spiked (‘za gwozdzono’) 2 cannon and slaughtered the Redoubt’s staff as well as did what they could to break up the redoubt in a few moments. They slipped out in the direction of the approach works.  In the course of this attack they surprised chief military engineer Colonel A. di Fossis, killing him and his staff, and pushed even further north, destroying everything as they went, before turning toward the fortress again.  Several dozen of the besiegers were killed or wounded – certainly over 50 – and the rest of the Swedes in the area took flight in a panic. The Swedish Colonel Horn, Governor of Krzepic, was also mortally wounded while trying to rally the men.  There were no losses during the return. The only loss to us was Janicz, commander of the fortress garrison. The Swedish siege threat from this direction did not begin again until the 2^nd of December.

 With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander

26 Nov, 1655

To Adolf Wengle, of Brest

Late last night Pan Czarniecki and Janicz picked volunteers, ordered total silence and unblocked a sally-port. It took an hour's work to open the passage and our party of 40 raiders slipped through the narrow cleft onto the open hillside. We carried sabers, pistols and other firearms while some of our armed villagers hefted scythes that had been set with the broad blades upward into makeshift spears. It was a weapon to which they were the most accustomed.

Once they were through the wall they headed cautiously down the slope, making sure they made as little noise as possible. Now and then a scythe-blade clicked against another, or a stone grated under an accidental boot-heel, other than that they might have been wolves creeping towards a sheepfold.  The moonless night concealed us as we crept single file toward the right of the first Swedish redoubt.

"Now,"Pan Czarniecki hissed to us. "No sound from now on, understood?" We saw some tents, straight ahead, with lights burning in two of them... must be the commanders. On we went.

The front parapet was as sheer as a cliff but the slope should be easier in the back, where they roll in the cannon and there ought to be some access ramps for the troops as well... Ah, here we go. Here's the start of the rear parados. Quietly, now. No talking.  Weapons muffled.

It was the battery ammunition park, as we saw at once; a broad, raised platform carefully engineered out of earth, stone and timbers behind the main bastion; and then we edged into the rows of powder carts, and the heavy drays used for hauling cannon balls, that were parked there with nobody near them. As we expected, the climb to the crew tents and the gun revetments on top of the rampart was an easy one. Pan Pyotr stopped us there, all weapons at the ready.

One of us reached the lighted tent, raised the flap and stepped in.  A moment later, a pistol shot!

A massed shout and the sudden crash of musketry split the air from one end of the earthwork to the other.  The silent night outside turned into the screaming chaos of a Judgment Day. Wild yells of "Kill!" and "Slaughter!" became one with the terrified shouts for help and the mindless howling of panicked Swedish soldiers. Men tumbled from their tents, still dazed with sleep and driven half mad with a sudden, incomprehensible terror, and with no idea where to turn or where to look for safety. Some ran straight into us – they were bewildered, disoriented and confused about the direction from which the attack had come, and died under the sabers, scythes and axes before they caught their breath. Others hacked and stabbed their own comrades blindly in the darkness.

Yet others—barely covered with scraps of clothing snatched up on the run—stood hatless and unarmed with their hands raised high into the air or threw themselves face down on the ground and waited for death without offering resistance. A small group tried to fight and defend itself but a dark, panic-stricken mob of their own companions swept over them, hurled them down, and trampled them as it fled. The groans of the dying and the howls for mercy added to this terrible chorale of terror and confusion.

But a real frenzy swept over the assaulted victims when they realized at last where their unexpected killers came from in the first place: not from the side of the fortification that faced the monastery but, unbelievably, out of their own main camp! Someone screamed out that it was their allied Polish regiments that had turned on them and attacked them, and mobs of fleeing, terror-stricken musketeers and pikemen leaped off the sheer walls of their entrenchment and ran, as if for shelter, towards Jasna Gora. But soon fresh yells signaled another disaster as they stumbled into Janicz's detachment which hunted and cut them down to the last man along the monastery slope.

Meanwhile we swept over the Swedish batteries. Men detailed in advance with iron spikes and mallets attacked the silent cannon and started hammering the spikes into the vents while the rest went on with the slaughter. The peasant scythemen who wouldn't have been able to stand up to armed regulars in the open field now threw themselves in small groups against entire clusters.

I saw one officer, I later learned it was the fearless Colonel Horn, try to rally the scattered cannoneers around him. He leaped up on the sloped angle of the battery revetment where everyone could see him, calling to his men and waving his rapier. The Swedes recognized him and crowded to his side but a swarm of attackers followed on their heels, friend and enemy being packed so tightly together that no one could tell one from the other. "To me!  To me!" He shouted.   "Rally!   Rally!"

But then the fell and his gathering troopers broke and fled into the darkness. We threw themselves on the shattered fugitives and finished them all. The bastion was taken.

The trumpets were already calling the troops to arms in the main Swedish camp, and the monastery's artillery shot off a salvo of firebombs to light the way back for us. We hurried up the slope, panting and splashed with blood, like wolves running from pursuit by hunters after slaughtering a sheepfold. Janicz had fallen. His own men shot him by mistake when he chased too far into the darkness after some officer.

We returned to the monastery amid the roar of cannon and in the red glare of the muzzle blasts. Father Kordecki waited for us at the sally-port, counting each head as it appeared in the narrow cleft, but Janicz was the only casualty of the night. Two men went out shortly afterwards to bring in his body because the Prior wished to honor him with a proper burial.

28 November 1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

The 25-28^th saw the sporadic exchange of fire between the Swedish artillery and the fort. The Swedes again try to force the capitulation of the fortress of Jasna Gora, through pressure and blackmail and harassment by successive Swedish envoys. Beginning on the 27^th of  November, talks and negotiation were led by our Envoys Maciej Bleszczynski and Zachary Malachowski.  General B. Muller to arrange a cease-fire on 28 November. In the course of the talks, the Swedes proposed an agreement, by which the safety of the monastery was guaranteed.  The conditions called for a categorical break with Polish king Jan II Kazimier and abandoning control of the fort, and accepting a Swedish garrison of 150 men under the command of Prince Francis Erdman of Saxony.

With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander

29 November 1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

General B. Muller’s siege corps was reinforced with infantry. Marching through Czestochowa and entirely around the Jasna Gora Fortress, as something of a demonstration, was none other than the regiment of the Polish King’s own Royal Guard of Foote under Pulkovinick (obersztera) Fromhold von Ludingstausen Wolff.  This now-mercenary (zacięznej) Polish regiment of Foote consisted of 6 companies totaling 600 foot and 3 regimental cannons - 3pdrs.  This Foote Guard had belonged to Stefan Czarniecki’s Polish army group. The Guard had followed King Kazimer into Silesia, neutral ground, after the fall of Kracow. On 28 Nov while marching toward Slask, on the road between Siewierzem and Bedzinem, the regiment was surprised by a regiment of reiters under Colonel W. Sadowski.  After a minor altercation and after having obtained promises of payment of their back pay, they came over to the Swedes. They were then sent here to Czestochowa.  Also, a company (about 100 foote) arrived commanded probably by Rotmistrz (captain) Adam Pozowski, along with a regiment of furrow infantry (‘piechoty lanowej’) from the Vovoiodship of Sandomier under Colonel Andrzej Gnoinski.

With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander

1 Dec 1655

To Pan Zagloba

My dear and honored friend,

30 November - 1 December saw heated negotiations, which cumulated in the imprisonment of our envoys by the Swedes. The cease-fire was terminated.  As commander of the Fortress of Jasna Gora I received a letter from General A. Wittenberg.   He wrote that per the 21 October surrender in Krakow, the defense of the Jasna Gora fort is regarded as a revolt against the lawful ruler. For this act the commander and garrison risk the harshest punishment.

With you in Faith,
Augustin Kordecki
Prior of Jasna Gora, and Fortress Commander