Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 174 Strong Enemy
Forty meters is just a matter of a dozen seconds for a cuirassier charging at full speed.

But those ten seconds felt like an eternity to both the attackers and defenders.

"Fire! Free fire! Kill them all!"

The sergeant, who was directing the retreat of the city's outer perimeter guard troops, lay prone behind an earthen embankment, firing shots while shouting to the soldiers around him.

Everyone's eyes were bloodshot as they stared intently at the Gallic officer wielding his saber and charging at the front.

"Ta-ta-ta-ta!"

"Bang bang bang!"

In addition to the light machine guns that never stopped firing, MP14 submachine guns and Gew.98 rifles kept firing, bullets raining down on the infantry-armored cuirassiers charging forward.

However, that damned enchanted breastplate once again demonstrated its astonishing defensive capabilities.

Colonel Molière, who was at the forefront, was hit by several bullets. His body swayed violently a few times, and the blue light on his chest armor flashed. However, he only groaned a few times, his steps faltered, but he still stubbornly charged forward.

The 9mm pistol rounds from submachine guns were ineffective against these cuirassiers unless they hit their heads or unprotected limbs.

The close-quarters firefight was bloody and brutal.

A cuirassier roared and charged to the earthen embankment. He brandished his saber and was about to leap into the trench when a young Saxon soldier instinctively raised his submachine gun and emptied the entire magazine into the cuirass's chest.

"Da da da!"

The bullets sparked a series of blue flashes against the cavalryman's breastplate, but did nothing to stop him.

The cavalryman grinned maliciously and brought his saber down hard.

"Pfft!"

Blood splattered, and the young soldier collapsed limply before he could even scream.

But the next second, a veteran next to him roared and fired his Gew.98 rifle, almost pressed against the cuirassier's neck. The 7.92mm rifle bullet instantly tore open his unprotected throat, and the enormous kinetic energy blew his head backward.

Such scenes were constantly playing out on the front lines.

Colonel Molière finally reached the front of the position. He kicked aside a Saxon soldier who tried to stop him with his bayonet, pressed the muzzle of his revolver against the forehead of another soldier, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

"boom!"

Brain matter and blood splattered all over his face, but he didn't care. He brandished his military knife and frantically hacked at the enemies around him.

He was like a wounded lion, unleashing astonishing fighting power in the final moments of his life.

But two fists are no match for four hands.

Just as he felled the third soldier, three or four dark gun barrels were simultaneously pointed at him.

"Ta-ta-ta-ta!"

A dense hail of bullets from submachine guns instantly enveloped him. The blue light from his enchanted breastplate flickered a few times before finally going out completely.

"For Gaul"

Colonel Molière's body fell heavily backward, his eyes still filled with endless resentment and madness.

Meanwhile, the battle on the other side also intensified.

Captain Leo, with his dragoons, had stormed into the village and was attempting to attack from behind the Saxon garrison.

Meanwhile, Captain Marchand's dragoons arrived at the riverbank and joined Captain Lafontaine's dragoon squadron.

They held their long lances high, ready to deliver a fatal blow to the Saxon infantrymen who were already engaged in a fierce battle from the flanks and rear.

Throughout the battlefield, the Gallic cavalry had established an absolute numerical advantage and encirclement over the two platoons of the training assault battalion.

The scales of victory seem to have tipped completely in their favor.

North of Charleroi, on an artillery position.

The battalion commander of the field artillery battalion felt completely overwhelmed after hanging up the phone.

Although the artillery position chosen by the field artillery battalion was relatively high, allowing them to see the two flanks of the city, he also saw the movements of the Gauls' cavalry on the left flank.

The city of Charleroi stretches approximately 5-6 kilometers from west to east, and this artillery position is about 4 kilometers away from both sides of the city in a straight line, which is exactly within the attack range of the FK.96n/A 77mm field gun.

The problem is that their battalion had only arrived at dawn and had no time to calibrate the artillery or fire the firing tables.
However, at this moment, he also knew that he had to provide immediate fire support to friendly forces.

The approaching village and surrounding area of ​​the dragoons were the most suitable targets for artillery fire, and these fixed targets were also better suited for emergency firing corrections.

"I can't control that much anymore!"

The field artillery commander shouted to the artillery crew with the highest technical and tactical skills in the entire battalion:

"Artillery crew one! Target: village outside the city! Fire!"

"boom!"

A 77mm field gun roared as a high-explosive shell whistled into the sky.

The artillery battalion commander held up his binoculars, staring intently at the landing point of the shells.

A few seconds later, a ball of fire mixed with black smoke suddenly rose from the edge of the distant village.

"Closer! Correct direction **** distance ****!" The battalion commander rattled off a string of numbers. "Fire immediately after adjustments!"

The gunners quickly adjusted the cannon's parameters and then fired again.

"boom!"

Another shell flew out.

This time, the shell landed precisely on a stone building on the edge of the village, the blast wave instantly collapsing it. "Good! Increase the distance by ****!" The artillery battalion commander's spirits lifted. "All artillery crews! Target, the village! Five salvos! Fire!"

"Boom boom boom!"

In an instant, twelve 77mm field guns roared like thunder at the same time.

The shells, like the scythe of death, whistled through the sky and crashed down on the small village with a sharp whistle!
Inside the village, Captain Leo was commanding his dragoons, using houses and broken walls as cover, and had reached a position on the edge of the village where they could attack the Saxon soldiers.

Just as he was about to organize an operation, a sharp, chilling whistling sound came from afar and instantly enveloped the entire village.

"Bombard! Take cover!"

Leo's face turned deathly pale instantly, and almost instinctively, he lunged at a nearby earthen wall.

No sooner had he finished speaking than a series of violent explosions rang out in the village!

"Boom! Boom!"

The earth seemed to tremble.

A hail of bullets consisting of twelve 77mm high-explosive shells instantly covered the small village, turning it into a fiery inferno.

Leo felt as if he had been slammed to the ground by an invisible giant hand. The shockwave from the explosion kicked up dust and debris that pelted him, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, with only a buzzing sound in his ears.

He lay on the ground, mouth agape, clutching his head tightly, feeling as if the whole world was spinning.

Explosions rang out one after another.

The stone houses were easily torn apart and collapsed in the explosion, like they were made of paper.

The sturdy walls were blasted open with huge gaps, and burning beams and rubble flew everywhere.

Leo's dragoons were completely stunned. They had just been preparing to act as hunters and attack the enemy from behind, but the next second they were stunned by the sudden and devastating bombardment, suffering heavy casualties.

Some soldiers were blown away by the explosion and torn to pieces in mid-air, while others were buried under collapsed buildings and could not even make a cry for help.

Leo had no idea how long the shelling had lasted; it felt like an eternity.

When the explosions finally stopped, he staggered to his feet, and the scene before him made him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

The entire village had been reduced to ruins, with rubble and flames everywhere.

His men lay sprawled on the ground, many covered in thick dust, motionless, their fate unknown.

Their attack, before it could even truly begin, was completely shattered by the artillery fire that rained down from the sky.

"How is that possible? How could they possibly have cannons? Then why did they run away in the first place?"

Captain Leo muttered to himself, his eyes filled with despair and incomprehension.

If there is artillery support, they can attack the woods where the villagers are hiding while they are scouting the village.

Why wait until now?
Captain Leo probably never imagined that the Saxon artillery would arrive an hour earlier than them and be completely unprepared.

The shelling just now was merely an 'extraordinary performance' under emergency circumstances.
But sometimes, it is these coincidences that make up a series of bizarre battle records.

Meanwhile, the two dragoon squadrons that were maneuvering along the riverbank to outflank the Saxon infantry also met with the same fate.

After firing five salvos at the village, the artillery battalion commander immediately used binoculars to observe the dragoons circling around the river, and then mentally predicted their speed.

After roughly calculating the distance, he ordered the artillery crew to turn towards the open area by the river.

When Captain Lafontaine and Captain Marchand reunited, and the dragoons spread out, laid down their lances, and launched their final charge, the death knell descended once more.

The shells landed in extremely tricky spots, completely blocking their path of advance.

Explosions erupted one after another in the cavalry ranks, causing men and horses to tumble and blood and flesh to fly everywhere.

The once neat and orderly charging formation was instantly shattered into pieces.

The cavalrymen had nowhere to hide on the open riverbank, making them perfect targets for artillery shells.

Panic spread through the ranks like a plague.

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!"

I don't know who shouted it first, but the whole team instantly collapsed.

The cavalrymen turned their horses around and fled in other directions, completely losing the fierce momentum they had shown when they arrived.

This sudden artillery barrage not only completely thwarted the dragoons' offensive, but also bought precious breathing room for the two Saxon infantry platoons on the main battlefield who were already in dire straits.

"Well done! It's our artillery!"

The sergeant commanding the guard unit was so excited as he watched the flames rising from the village and the riverbank that he almost jumped for joy.

He glanced at the front of the position, where the infantry cuirassiers had been mostly wiped out, with only a few remaining stubbornly putting up a last stand.

But their ammunition was running low.

"Grenades! Last volley of grenades! Throw them all and get out!"

The sergeant took two grenades from his waist, pulled out the fuses, and threw them fiercely at the few remaining enemies in front of him.

"Boom! Boom!"

Amidst the smoke and dust of the explosion, he grabbed the machine gunner beside him and pulled him to his feet.

"Retreat! Quickly! Cover each other! Run towards the city!"

(End of this chapter)