entire

foot—successfully, in all but a few instances. For all their savage reputation, the Finns were under Gustav’s command and were accustomed to his discipline. The king had a short way with cavalrymen who went off on wild charges when there was royal work to be done.
“Take the cannons!” Gustav roared. Ignoring the imperial gunners and rammers scattering to the rear, the Finns stooped onto the guns like hawks. The few knots of artillerymen still trying to stand their ground were butchered within a minute or two. By the time Gustav Adolf and the slower Swedes galloped onto the scene, Tilly’s entire artillery had been seized.
Gustav trotted back and forth on his charger. He had scabbarded his saber and was back to waving his hat. “Turn them around!” he bellowed. His powerful voice, as always, carried well in a battle. “I want those guns turned on Tilly! Now, d’you hear? Now! Move, move, move!”
The Finns ignored the command, knowing it was not intended for them. While they maintained a guard against enemy cavalry, hundreds of Smalanders and East Gothlanders dismounted. Hurriedly, they picked up the spikes discarded by the routed Catholic gunners and began levering the great weapons around. Even before the guns were repositioned, other cavalrymen were already beginning to load the pieces.
They were slower and less adept than Torstensson’s men would have been, of course. But, unlike the cavalry of other armies, Gustav’s men were cross-trained to serve as artillery or even, if need be, as infantry. Swedish cavalry, like the cavalry of other nations, was dominated by noblemen. But the Swedish aristocracy had little in the way of continental hauteur—and what little they began with was soon drummed out of them by their king’s training and discipline.
Soon enough, the huge cannons were brought to bear on their target. Gustav did not wait to fire a coordinated volley, as Torstensson’s artillery was trained to do. Each gun fired as soon as possible.
The fire was ragged, slow, and indifferently aimed. It mattered not at all. Tilly’s army was now a crumpled and half-broken thing, distorted almost beyond recognition by the pressure of the battle. The rigid formations f