On this day in 1456, a vastly outnumbered Christian army shattered Muhammad the Conqueror's dream of overrunning Europe
Raymond Ibrahim
Today in history, on July 22, 1456, the West scored one of its greatest victories over the jihad—and, in so doing, inaugurated the ringing of church bells at noon.
Three years after conquering Constantinople, the Ottoman Sultan, Muhammad II, at the head of over 100,000 Turks, marched towards the strategic fortress town of Belgrade, key to Western Europe, in the spring of 1456.
Cognizant of all the death, destruction, and mindboggling atrocities this massive Muslim march presaged—memory of the sack of Constantinople was still fresh—a great panic swept through the Danube region. Even Hungarian king Ladislaus V fled his capital to Vienna (on the pretext that he was going “hunting”).
Only one stood his ground—only John Hunyadi, the Transylvanian voivode who had long been a thorn in the Turks’ side. Even as the king fled west, Hunyadi raced to the eastern frontier—towards, not away from, the Turkish army. He immediately manned the fortress of Belgrade with 6,000 veteran fighters at his own expense. Although he implored the higher nobles for aid, few were responsive.
Meanwhile, the 70-year-old Franciscan friar, John Capistrano, went to southern Hungary calling on the people to take the cross and defend their nation against Islam. His “burning zeal, soul-piercing eloquence, and heroic austerities” set tens of thousands of the lower classes aflame. Before long, a massive crusader force of some 40,000 peasants was following Capistrano.
The world had turned upside down: “Where is the French king,” a contemporary document inquires, “who wants to call himself the Christian king? Where are the kings of England, Denmark, Norway, Sweden…? Unarmed peasants, blacksmiths, tailors, tradesmen are walking in front of the armies!”
By late June, Muhammad’s vast forces had reached and surrounded Belgrade. If it fell, all of Hungary and further west would be exposed to and eventually inundated by the hordes of Asia.
Muhammad ordered the heavy bombardment to begin on July 4. The crashing and careening cannon fire was so thunderously loud that it could be heard for a hundred miles around. Twelve days later, on July 16, massive breaches punctuated this once formidable fortress.
It was then that Hunyadi’s army appeared, floating down the Danube on makeshift vessels of war. Marching alongside them by land were Capistrano and his army. On seeing the puny, Christian fleet nearing their professional galleons, many of which were fettered together by chains and formed a huge damn across the water, the Turks scoffed, even as they braced for the inevitable crash.
On the signal—loud cries of “Jesus! Jesus!”—the Christian flotilla crashed into the chained Muslim boats.
The Danube flowed with hot blood as a wild river battle took place for five hours. The massive, linked chains of the Ottoman boats eventually burst asunder, and the Christian fleet made it to and reinforced Belgrade, which was at its final extremity.
A spectacular start for the relief force, it was only a scratch to the vast Muslim army. On that same day, Ottoman cannons—now living instruments of the sultan’s wrath—exploded in a barrage of fire that rocked Belgrade to its very foundation.
For another week, the cannons continued to thunder, until most of Belgrade’s ramparts were on a level with the ground.
Then, at the crack of dawn, on July 21, for miles around, “one could hear the ceaseless beat of the drums that announced the attack.” Throngs of Muslims came rushing to the dilapidated fortress to cries of “Allah! Allah!”
Once thousands of Turks had crowded in between the crumbling walls and the citadel, the signal was given: to the piercing sound of blasting horns, Hunyadi and his men came charging out of the citadel, even as throngs of hidden peasant crusaders appeared above the walls and behind the Turks. The Muslims were trapped between a rock and a hard place. According to one account:
A terrible struggle ensued. The Turks, though taken at an advantage, were as ten to one and armed to the teeth, whilst most of their antagonists were scarcely armed at all. A hand-to-hand melee went on in every street, but the fight was fiercest on the narrow bridge leading from the citadel to the town, where Hunyady commanded in person....
Despite being so wildly disadvantaged in numbers and arms, the Christians—including Hunyadi, who fought in their midst like a common foot-soldier—held their own and managed to kill many the Turks.
It was now just before dawn, July 22; the battle had raged for a day and night, and it was clear that the Christians, having reached the limits of human capacity and endurance, were on the verge of collapsing under the sheer numbers of their foes pouring in.
High up on a watch tower, the 70-year-old Capistrano was seen waving the banner of the Cross and imploring Heaven for aid.
Continue reading below.
If you value unflinching, historically grounded analysis that mainstream outlets soften or ignore, consider upgrading. Paid subscribers get:
Several new, full-length articles every week.
Carefully researched pieces you won’t find elsewhere.
Full access to the complete premium archive
Archive of in-depth writing, research, and commentary — all in one place.
Entry into the subscriber chat
A private space for serious readers and thoughtful discussion.
No comments:
Post a Comment