“The Turks have arrived at our walls. They have a mighty army, well equipped and well trained. Almost all of Austria has fallen and we are all that stand to stop their force. They have demanded surrender, what is our reply?” said the gruff Austrian general addressing the tattered army before him.
A small youth, barely the age of 16 stepped forward, a bright red cross emblazoned on his unblemished shirt. With a determined voice, he replied with firmness “We are all that hold back the Muslims from the Holy Land. We do not stand alone, for God is on our side! We will stand and we. will. Fight. I am ready to give my life in the name of Jesus!”
A chorus of enthusiastic shouts had followed, everything had seemed so much brighter back then, Jacob thought fondly as he sat, cleaning his gun. When he had given that speech nearly two months ago, he had been so confident that God would save them. Now, seven weeks into the siege, the situation was bad. Food was scarce, sickness was abroad. The will of the soldiers was crumbling.
“Jacob, it’s time for watch duty” said the guard who had just appeared in the doorway to the dark stone room.
“Alright I’m coming” replied Jacob wearily as he got to his feet, his undernourished body protesting the effort. He grabbed his spear and pistol before heading out with the other guard. As they climbed out over the massive stone walls surrounding the city, a chilling breeze blew over them. The ground outside the wall was a sea of torches marking the enemy’s camp. Outnumbered 50-1, it was amazing that they had held out this long. It had not been without losses though. Jacob shuddered as he remembered the outer wall they had once held, now a burning wreckage. They had held onto it for a while, but eventually several Ottoman charges blew holes in the wall, and soon thousands of troops had poured through. Many lives had been lost in the retreat to the inner wall.
Suddenly, Jacob noticed something off about the land below. Several patches were dark, devoid of torches, almost as if there was a giant pit there. Suddenly, Jacob was sounding the alarm.
“Sappers! Sappers heading for the walls!”
Sappers were highly trained troops who dug tunnels under the wall before planting explosive charges to blow the wall. These Ottoman sappers were especially good, and were responsible for the breeches in the outer wall and if the sappers were on the move, the army would not be far behind. As if on queue, torches started assembling themselves into rows upon rows of soldiers, all preparing to advance. As guards poured out of the keeps to hold the walls, Jacob heart dropped. Their numbers were too few, and the Ottomans too many. This was the last battle, the fall of Vienna. Where was God now?
Jacob’s hands were covered in sweat as he leaned on his spear, looking out once more at the impending doom. As the lilac sun crept up on the horizon, Jacob noticed something. On a distant hill, what appeared to be a winged horse had appeared. More and more appeared, soon the entire horizon was covered in dark figures. Jacob stood up straighter as a scarlet banner raised over the hill, a white cross blowing defiantly in the wind. These must be the famed Polish Hussars! The Christian army had arrived. With a quick prayer of thanks to God, Jacob ran across the wall with renewed vigor, feet pounding on the rough stone floor.
“The Hussars are here! The Hussars are here!” Jacob shouted to the downcast soldiers.
As he ran down the cobblestone steps, though, Jacob knew the battle was not won yet. The cavalry were a ways off and they still needed to hold the walls till they arrived. The sappers would be under the walls any moment, and Jacob rushed into a friendly tunnel set to intercept them. The explosive charges could not be allowed to go off. The tunnel was dark, lit dimly by a few oil lamps and the smell of earth and mildew was heavy in the air. As Jacob neared the sounds of fighting in the tunnel, he was greeted by an ugly scene. Three friendly soldiers were dead on the ground, and the final one was fending off two Turks. A third Turk crouched a little ways off readying an explosive.
“What can I, one man, do?” Jacob thought as he looked at the hopeless scene, “I can’t stop these soldiers, this is it. Even after holding out for months and being so close to being saved, Vienna will fall.”
Even as this despair began to overcome Jacob, he noticed the other guard’s shirt, a dirty, stained white that spoke of the trials he had endured with that brilliant red cross stretched across it. The same crimson cross was displayed on his own shirt to show the world what he fought for. With a burst of fevor, Jacob rushed forward to meet the Turks.
“For the Holy Land!” he cried as he drove his spear into one of the enemies.
The  soldier tried to defend himself, but the spear struck home and he slumped to the ground. The other Christian soldier was caught off guard by Jacobs sudden arrival and in that moment of surprise he was knocked to the ground with a harsh blow of the sword. As the second Turk turned to face Jacob, he swung his sword in a deadly arc. Bringing his spear around quickly, he caught the blow on the shaft, only to have his spear knocked from his hand as the enemy’s mighty blow connected. Quickly backing up, he barely dodged a quick backhand, the wind whipping his face as the tip flew by his nose. A third stroke smote Jacob on his left shoulder, the sharp blade biting into his skin. As he fell to the earth, shoulder burning, he said a silent prayer to God. The cool ground was coarse beneath him pressing uncomfortable against his back. His arms were weak, exhausted from lack of food. As the sword swung around for the final stroke, a bang echoed through the tunnel. The Turk fell to the ground, chainmail shirt pierced by a bullet. Jacob’s trusty pistol was clutched tightly in his right hand. Jacob sighed in relief before remembering the final enemy was still setting the charge. With a groan of pain, Jacob got to his feet and retrieved his spear. The final soldier had the barrel of gunpowder set in place, and was frantically trying to light it. He was going to blow himself up if that is what it took to detonate the charge. With a cry, Jacob hurled his spear across the tunnel, striking his foe directly in the chest. As Jacob slumped to the ground with exhaustion, he heard a wonderful sound. Outside, the ground shook with the thunder of fifteen thousand horses. The cavalry had arrived. No explosions rocked the wall, no breaches into Vienna. They were saved.