the line. Once over the wall, the two divisions were to separate, one turning north, the other south, rolling up the Russian line from within and driving the Russians at each end toward the river. The Swedish cavalry would remain outside the earthworks, controlling the ground there, covering the flanks of the infantry as it advanced and dealing with any Russian sortie or escape which might be attempted. Rehnskjold would command the northern (left) wing of the Swedish infantry attack, Count Otto Vellinck would command the right. Charles himself was to command a small separate force on the far left in the company of Colonel Magnus Stenbock and Arvid Horn. As soon as the guns were unlimbered and served, the
Swedish artillery opened a bombardment along the middle of the Russian line while the infantry assembled in the center and the cavalry squadrons trotted out to the wings. Thus, in a calm and orderly way, 10,000 Swedes prepared to advance on 40,000 strongly entrenched Russians.
From his position on the Russian rampart, Du Croy watched this activity with growing alarm. He had expected that, according to the rules of war, the Swedes would begin digging ditches and laying out their own fortified camps. His confusion grew when he saw that some of the Swedish soldiers were carrying fascines to use in crossing the ditch dug in front of his earthen rampart. It began to dawn on Peter's commander that, incredible as it might seem, the Swedish army was about to storm his position.
Through the morning and into the afternoon, the Swedes calmly continued their preparations. By two p.m., when they were ready, the rain had stopped, it had grown colder and a new storm was gathering in the darkened sky. Then, just as signal rockets soared up, setting the army in motion, a blizzard roared in from behind, sweeping snow horizontally toward the Russian lines. Some of the Swedish officers hesitated, thinking it would be better to postpone the attack until the storm was over. 'No,' cried Charles. 'The snow is at our backs, but it is full in the enemy's face.'
The King was right. The Russians, with the swirling flakes biting into their eyes, fired their muskets and cannon, but most of their shots, aimed into a white void, went high and did no damage. Silently, swiftly, the Swedes advanced, suddenly looming before them out of the snow. Thirty paces in front of the earthworks, the Swedish line suddenly halted, muskets swung up to the shoulders, a single volley rang out and, on the parapet, Russians 'fell like grass.' Throwing their fascines into the ditch, the Swedes swarmed across on top of them. Waving swords and bayonets, they climbed over the earthworks and threw themselves on the foe. Within fifteen minutes, a fierce hand-to-hand battle was taking place inside the works. 'We charged directly sword in hand and so entered. We slew all who came at us and it was a terrible massacre,' a Swedish officer wrote afterward.
At first, the Russians fought stubbornly—'They returned a heavy fire and killed many fine fellows'—but a breach had been made through which fresh Swedish infantry now poured. Precisely according to plan, the two Swedish divisions separated and began to drive the Russians back along the inside of the earthworks in opposite directions. The southern Swedish column, pressing along the left side of the Russian lines, first engaged the Streltsy regiments under Trubetskoy. These they easily routed, thus sadly confirming Peter's opinion of the value of the Streltsy in fighting a modern enemy. Farther down the Russian line, they encountered Golovin's division, which, although without its commander, put up a strong initial resistance. Then, as one regiment after another of the inexperienced Russians began to crumble, the rest fell into confusion and retreated. Sheremetev's cavalry, stationed on this wing behind the lines, should have been able to intervene, riding down on the advancing Swedish infantry, slowing or even scattering the advance by the weight of men and horses. But the Russian cavalry, made up mostly of mounted noblemen and undisciplined Cossacks, was seized with panic even before it was attacked. Seeing the determined Swedes approach, the cavalrymen wheeled their horses and galloped headlong into the river, trying to escape. Thousands of horses and a thousand men were lost in the small cataracts.
In the north, on the Russian right, the story was much the same. Attacked from behind their earthworks, the Russians attempted a stand, at first defending themselves bravely. Then, as their officers fell, panic set in and they began to flee, crying, 'The Germans have betrayed us.' As the Swedish advance continued northward, rolling up bastion after bastion, the mass of fleeing Russians grew to huge proportions. So many ran toward the river that soon a dense herd of terrified soldiers, artillerymen and wagoners was stampeding to escape over the single bridge. Suddenly, the bridge cracked and sagged under their weight, sending scores of men sliding and tumbling into the river.
At only one point did the Russian line hold. At the northern end, near the collapsed Kamperholm Bridge, six Russian battalions, including the Preobrazhensky and Semyonovsky Guard regiments, under Buturlin, held their ground and refused to break. Hastily creating a new strongpoint by barricading themselves behind hundreds of artillery and supply wagons, they fought back vigorously, firing with muskets and artillery at the Swedes who now swarmed around them.
Except for this single stand, the Russian army on the northern end of the line and on most of the southern end as well had been reduced to a confused, fleeing rabble. Hundreds of Russian soldiers jumped over the earthworks, trying to escape the blades of the Swedish infantry, only to be ridden down and driven back by the Swedish cavalry. The foreign officers commanding the Russians found the situation impossible. 'They ran about like a herd of cattle,' said the Saxon Hallart of his men. 'One regiment was mixed up with another so that hardly twenty men could be got into line.' Once the Russians began to cry out against their foreign officers, there was no chance of making them obey. Seeing what was happening and hearing the threatening shouts of his own men, the Due du Croy declared, 'The Devil could not fight with such soldiers,' and, along with Hallart and Langen, made his way toward the Swedish line and surrendered to Stenbock. He felt safer under Swedish guard than in command of his own undisciplined and terrified troops. Stenbock received them politely and took them to the King.
Charles' role in the action, once the attack on the earthworks had been launched, had mostly been to enjoy himself. He spent the greater part of the afternoon outside the earthworks, deliberately exposing himself to personal danger. Once, while trying to get around a mound of wounded and dying men, he fell with his horse into the ditch; he was extricated, but had to leave the animal, his sword and one of his boots behind. He mounted another horse, which was immediately killed under him, while he himself was hit by a spent ball which he found in his necktie after the battle. Seeing the King without a horse, a Swedish horseman leaped from his own mount and offered it to the King. Scrambling into the saddle, Charles said smilingly, 'I see that the enemy want me to practice riding.'
As darkness fell, the King appeared inside the earthworks, covered with mud and still lacking a boot. He found that although Du Croy and most of the foreign officers had surrendered and many regiments of the Russian army had disintegrated, victory was not secure. In spite of the Russian losses, there still were 25,000 Russians under arms on the scene and scarcely more than 8,000 Swedes. The native Russian generals, Prince Dolgoruky, Prince Alexander of Imeritia, Avtemon Golovin and Ivan Buturlin, had not given up so quickly as Du Croy, Hallart and Langen. They had retreated to the wagon-train barricade at the northern end of the camp, and here, around this improvised bastion, the fiercest fighting of the day was taking place. Meanwhile, on the Russian left, General Weide's division was still largely intact, having taken little part in the battle. If suddenly Weide's troops had begun to attack toward the north and the regiments inside the ring of wagons had come pouring out to attack toward the south, the thin ranks of Charles' soldiers would have been caught in between.
It seemed imperative, therefore, for Charles to capture the wagons. He brought up artillery and trained it on them, but this proved unnecessary: The spirit of the Russians inside was finally broken. Convinced that further resistance was hopeless, the Russian generals sent to make terms. Charles was secretly delighted. In the gathering darkness, his soldiers, who now completely surrounded the wagon train, had been unable to distinguish between friend and foe and accidentally were firing at each other. The Russian surrender stopped this, and near eight
o'clock the King gave the order to cease firing. But the Russian capitulation was less than total. At first, the Russians insisted on marching out of the redoubt with full military honors. Eventually, they settled for an arrangement which allowed the private soldiers to keep their muskets and small arms, while the officers became prisoners of war. Charles also took possession of the regimental standards and all of the artillery.
Even then, with this mass of Russians on their hands, the situation remained dangerous for the Swedes. Most of their foot regiments were totally exhausted. Some of the men had found supplies of alcohol in the Russian camp and, drinking on empty stomachs, soon became drunk. Further, Charles was afraid that at dawn the Russians would be able to count the small number of
men who had conquered and were guarding them. It was essential to get rid of the beaten Russians quickly, and to usher them off the field expeditiously. Charles ordered the Russian prisoners to get to work immediately repairing the sagging Kamperholm Bridge.
There remained also the potential danger of Weide's division, still undefeated farther down the former
