Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 194 Heavy Machine Gun, A Great Invention

The fall of the Namur fortress complex meant that the Second Army could finally resume operations. Although Morin didn't expect this massive force to arrive at lightning speed, at least there was some hope.

Moreover, the convoy they had sent out was now returning from the 'Ludendorff Battle Group', with more than 100 more vehicles than when they set out.

"Don't tell me these two are only realizing this now."

To be honest, at this point, Morin had already figured out how to hide behind the Crown Prince and then throw his boots at Ludendorff and Bilough in the face.

However, we'll have to wait until after this battle to discuss this further, and it's believed that once reinforcements arrive, the training assault battalion will be able to get some rest.

Even a donkey pulling a millstone needs to rest!
On Charleroi's side, since the 9th Gallic Infantry Division seemed to have no intention of continuing the offensive for the time being, and the Training Assault Battalion was not willing to launch a reckless counterattack, this 'center of the vortex' remained relatively quiet until the afternoon.

Although reports from the front lines indicated that the Gauls appeared to be collecting the bodies, the guards in each company did not fire their weapons at this point, but simply watched the Gauls' actions silently.

Of course, the soldiers on the front lines remained in combat readiness, their sights aimed at the street and their index fingers resting on the trigger guard.

If these Gauls collecting the bodies make any unusual movement, they will not hesitate to open fire.

Humanity is humanity, and fighting is fighting.

In this situation, Morin stayed at the temporary camp headquarters and watched the rare large-scale cavalry civil war in the distance through the system's map.

Meanwhile, General Ernst, through intelligence relayed from the front lines, had roughly ascertained the Gauls' firepower deployment and troop allocation.

He then looked at the skirmisher line of dragoons in front of him. Under the suppression of the enemy's superior artillery fire, they had begun to suffer casualties and showed signs of retreating.

"General, the Gauls' artillery fire is too intense; our dragoons may have to retreat faster than expected."

The chief of staff, noticing this situation, also spoke with some nervousness.

But General Ernst wore a smug smile, as he believed the fish were taking the bait.

"Order the Central Dragoon Units to take turns providing cover as they retreat to their rear positions."

He put down his binoculars and calmly began to issue orders:
"Just as previously requested, we need to maintain order amidst the chaos, giving the Gauls the illusion that we have been defeated."

"Yes!" The messenger immediately obeyed and left.

Soon, the skirmish line of Saxon dragoons on the front of the gentle slope began to loosen.

The soldiers returned fire as they slowly began to retreat.

To General de Moreau, who was watching from the rear, this scene was nothing short of a victory horn.

"Ha! They can't hold on! The Saxons are about to collapse!"

He shouted excitedly, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

In his view, this was a golden opportunity to launch a general offensive and crush the enemy in one fell swoop!

"The time has come to deliver the final blow!"

He drew his sword, swung it forward with a fierce roar, and screamed at the top of his lungs:

"Drakeners! Cuirassiers! Charge! Crush them!"

The bugle call of victory seemed to be already ringing in our ears.

General de Moro looked at the Saxon defenses that were beginning to 'collapse' ahead and felt his blood boiling.

He could almost see the glorious sight of the valiant Gallic cavalry breaking through enemy lines and trampling the Saxon banners underfoot.

"Charge! For the glory of Gaul! Charge!"

His roar, relayed through messengers and officers, quickly spread throughout the entire Gallic cavalry line.

"Woo--Woo--"

The buglers in the squadron, with their distinctive red helmet plumes, blew out loud and sharp bugle calls that echoed across the entire plain.

The dragoons who had been hit by the arrows quickly took the reins from their comrades, mounted their horses, and then swiftly adjusted their formation.

At that moment, even General Hopner had to admit that the Gauls' cavalry were indeed the pinnacle of training in Europe.

"Come on!"

"Kill those Saxon barbarians!"

Thousands of Gallic cavalry and cuirassiers simultaneously unleashed a deafening roar.

Even so, they remained rational and did not immediately launch an attack.

The officers kept the Gallic cavalry at the forefront in check, forming several dense lines that closed the distance at a jogging pace and kept the formation from becoming chaotic during the charge.

Behind them were three cuirassier squadrons, forming the decisive force.

They maintained a slightly slower pace than the dragoons, conserving their strength and preparing to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy at the most crucial moment.

From the air, the entire charging column looked like a huge, suddenly rising wave sweeping across the Saxon cavalry.

The Saxon dragoons, who were in a rout, looked panicked when they saw the endless cavalry charging towards them from behind.

At that moment, it was unclear whether they were genuinely afraid.

"Quick! Retreat! The enemy is charging!"

They seemed to be truly terrified, retreating faster and faster, their formation becoming increasingly chaotic, focused only on escaping for their lives.

All of this was clearly observed by General de Moreau.

"We won! We've got this in the bag!" He pumped his fist excitedly. "Those Saxon cowards are no match for the great Gallic cavalry!"

When the dragoons at the front closed the distance to about 200 paces from the Saxons, the cavalry officer in charge stood in the stirrups and pointed his sword forward, giving the order to 'charge'.

The dragoons also stood on the stirrups, leveled their lances, and then made their riders gait at a 'gallop' level.

This is also the fastest gait of a warhorse, with an average speed of about 40-48 kilometers per hour.

The earth trembled violently as the hooves of thousands of warhorses pounded the ground simultaneously, creating a thunderous roar that would terrify any coward.

The remaining hundred-meter distance is only a matter of a dozen seconds for cavalry charging at full speed.

The dragoons at the very front could even see the terrified expressions on the faces of the fleeing Saxon soldiers.

Victory seems to be within reach.

However, just as the Gallic cavalry were at the very front of their charge, about to step onto that gentle slope...

Something happened.

The Saxon dragoons, who had been fleeing in panic, suddenly stopped retreating as if they had received an order after reaching the top of the gentle slope. They quickly regrouped, forming a dense three-tiered horizontal formation, and their rifles, which had somehow been fitted with bayonets, were once again aimed at the charging Gallic cavalry.

Their movements were calm and swift, without the slightest panic, a stark contrast to their earlier disheveled appearance.

General de Moreau, who noticed this scene from afar, felt a moment of panic, and an ominous premonition welled up in his heart.

"Something's not right, something's not right!" he muttered to himself.

But things had already come to this point, and the surging tide could not be stopped.

He could only hope that his warriors could crush this last resistance with overwhelming force.

However, he did not know that this seemingly weak defensive line was not the last resistance of the Saxons, but the entrance to a trap.
On the machine gun positions deployed by the 1st Imperial Guard Cavalry Division, twenty-four camouflage canvases were simultaneously lifted.

Beneath the canvas were exposed gun muzzles, each radiating a chilling aura.

As the vanguard of the Gallic cavalry crossed the 'death line' marked by the machine gun positions, gunfire erupted.

"Da da da da da da da—!"

Twenty-four MG08 heavy machine guns simultaneously spewed deadly flames from the front and flanks of the gentle slope!
The dull, continuous gunfire merged into one, completely drowning out all other sounds on the battlefield.

A dense barrage of bullets, coming from the front and sides, formed a series of deadly crossfires that lashed out at the Gallic cavalry column that was still charging at full speed!

A disaster was about to befall the Gallic cavalry.

The Gallic dragon cavalry at the forefront were hit hard by this sudden storm of steel before they could even react to what was happening.

A Gallic cavalry officer was brandishing his saber and shouting "For Gaul!" His handsome face was still filled with the fervor of victory.

The next second, a burst of bullets struck him and his warhorse from the side.

The man and the horse's torsos were instantly riddled with several horrific wounds, and his body fell to the ground, instantly buried by the horse's hooves.

The soldiers around this officer suffered the same fate.

Bullets swept through the charging cavalry like mowing grass, row upon row.

The mournful neighing of warhorses and the screams of soldiers were drowned out by the terrifying roar of heavy machine guns.

Men and horses were thrown into chaos! Blood and flesh flew everywhere!
The once imposing assault column instantly became sparse and chaotic after entering this 'V of death' formed by crossfire.

The cavalrymen crashed into an invisible wall; the front tier of the wave was instantly shattered, while the waves behind, propelled by inertia, continued to surge forward and were similarly torn to shreds.

The situation wasn't much better for the cuirassiers wearing enchanted breastplates.

After receiving intelligence from Morin, all the machine gun positions had changed their firing targets to the cavalrymen's horses.

For heavy machine guns that are fixed on a tripod, once the firing height is set, there will be virtually no deviation.

Thus, a cuirassier watched helplessly as his warhorse was shot through the chest and forelegs, collapsing forward with a mournful cry.

He himself was thrown off the horse by the enormous inertia and rolled several times on the ground before coming to a stop.

He endured the excruciating pain throughout his body and struggled to get up, but a burst of bullets, seemingly from nowhere, shattered his head.

General de Moreau, standing in the rear, was completely dumbfounded.

He stared blankly at the battlefield that had instantly turned into a slaughterhouse, his face filled with endless terror and despair, the elation and arrogance on his face replaced by boundless fear and despair.

"They're heavy machine guns. How could cavalry have so many heavy machine guns?" His lips trembled, and he spoke incoherently.

He never dreamed that the Saxons would lay such a vicious and despicable trap in a cavalry duel!

It's one thing for the cowards in Charleroi to do this, but the Saxon cavalry did it too?
This is not a duel that should be fought between cavalry!
The Gallic cavalry's charge, after paying an immeasurable price, finally came to a complete halt less than twenty meters from the Saxon lines.

The surviving cavalrymen were terrified by the hellish scene before them.

They reined in their horses, pacing around in panic, or desperately turned their horses around, trying to escape this death zone.

The dense and slow-moving targets made the surrounding Saxon heavy machine gunners wish their MG08s had a higher rate of fire and slower reload speed.
On the other side, General Ernst saw this scene and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

He knew that now was the real moment of victory.

"Order! Royal Guard Cuirassiers! Launch a counter-charge against the enemy!"

Behind the central Saxon position, three squadrons of royal cuirassiers, who had been conserving their strength, finally moved.

They formed three neat and dense horizontal lines and launched a deadly counter-charge from the side of the top of the gentle slope, in a diagonal line, towards the already chaotic Gallic cavalry below!
The cuirass armor worn by the Saxon Royal Guard cavalry was crafted differently from that of the Gauls.

These breastplates utilize the same magical technology as those "plate armor superheroes" of the General's Guard, and have also undergone magical affinity modifications.

Therefore, in terms of protective capabilities, it was far superior to the Gauls' breastplate.

This also led to insufficient production capacity, resulting in a limited quantity.
But without a doubt, they were the most elite and powerful heavy cavalry in the entire Saxon army.

"For the Empire! For the Emperor!"

Accompanied by deafening shouts, this well-rested, armored torrent began to slowly accelerate.

Their target was the Gallic cavalry ahead, which had lost speed, their formation was scattered, and their morale had collapsed.

Seeing their own cuirassiers begin their counter-charge, the Saxon dragoons who had just been firing wildly with rifles and machine guns erupted in thunderous cheers.

Some of the dragoons at the rear quickly stopped firing and began to remount their horses in an orderly manner.

Prepare to follow behind the cuirassiers, expand the gains, and pursue and annihilate the remaining enemy.

General Ernst had complete control over the rhythm of the entire battlefield.

For the Gallic cavalry, who were already on the verge of chaos and collapse, the counter-charge launched by the Saxon cuirassiers became the final straw that broke their backs.

They suffered a double blow, both mentally and physically, in just a few minutes.

First, they were overwhelmed by the despicable barrage of bullets, suffering heavy casualties.

Immediately afterward, before they could even recover from their shock and fear, an even more imposing enemy heavy cavalry force swept in from the flank.

"It's over. We're finished."

A surviving Gallic cavalryman watched the approaching torrent of armored soldiers, gleaming with golden light, his eyes filled with despair.

His companions around him mostly had the same expression.

The courage of these Gallic cavalrymen had been completely exhausted in the one-sided massacre just now, and their morale had plummeted to rock bottom.

(End of this chapter)