A Successful Defence

June ninth. Sky heavy, gray. Enemy came at dawn. Thousands. A black wave rolling toward the walls. Meant to break us. Moved together, banners whipping. Gunners worked fast. Hands on the cannons. Air thick with sulfur. Commander gave the word, sharp. First shot tore out. Hit hard. Enemy lines split. Men flew up, fell broken. Blood and dust. Powder stung the nose. Screams carried. They staggered, slowed. Gunners kept at it. Cannons barked again, again. Ground shook. Enemy ranks shredded. They turned. Ran. Chaos trailing behind. Infantry went after them. Chased them down. Cut them where they stood. Field went quiet. Just the wounded left, groaning. We held. They lost over a thousand. Dead or done. Us, barely a scratch. Handful hurt. That was all. But they'll come again.