The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

The trench fell silent for a moment.

Joseph turned to Harris: "How much ammunition do we have left?"

Harris pursed his lips. "At the current intensity, it'll take an hour and a half."

With an hour and a half's worth of ammunition, the rear supply route is about to be blocked, and two companies are gathering in the north.

Joseph looked down, took the garrison map from McDonald's hand, and unfolded it.

He took out a pencil, circled three locations on the map, and then began to label them with numbers.

Harris walked back, stopped behind him, looked down at the picture, stared for a few seconds, and then spoke:

"You are setting up defensive strongpoints."

“Yes,” Joseph said without turning around, his pencil moving across the map. “Three hundred meters to the north, they need at least fifteen minutes to prepare before they can launch a counterattack. We’ll use those fifteen minutes to convert the trenches into defensive positions and then wait for reinforcements.”

He turned around to face the people who had gathered in the trenches—O'Connor, Tom, McDonald, Wilkins, Ross, and more than a hundred other faces looking at him.

"Listen," Joseph said, "we're in. This is the only point on the entire front line that has broken into German positions today. If reinforcements come, this is the fastest way to get through. So, we'll hold this position, no matter how long it takes."

He paused for a moment and pointed out the three circles on the picture to everyone.

"McDonald, you take the engineers and build the interception fortifications on the left. Bolton, second platoon, block the middle section. Harris, your men are on the right. O'Connor, you take a few good marksmen and get to the top of the trenches. I need to know when the Germans start advancing from the north."

Everyone nodded, dispersed, and took their positions.

Tom was the last to leave. He took two steps, then stopped and turned around.

"Joseph," he said, "can we really hold out?"

Joseph folded the garrison map, stuffed it into his jacket pocket, patted it, and looked up at Tom.

"We've been practicing for three months," he said. "If not today, then when?"

Tom nodded, then turned and left.

******************

7:58, north side of the trench.

O'Connor lay prone on the top edge, gun mounted, eyes pressed against the scope, looking 300 meters away.

The German army is moving.

They haven't launched a large-scale attack yet; this is a probing attack. Two men came out first, peeking out from the top of the north breastwork, and O'Connor immediately fired a shot.

The German soldiers retreated.

O'Connor pushed the spent cartridge out from beside the butt of the rifle, reloaded, and continued to lie prone.

Thirty meters behind him, McDonald and his sappers were reinforcing the earthen wall on the north side of the trench—using sandbags left behind by the Germans, captured tools, and soil dug from the ground. They worked quickly, spoke little, and each knew what they were supposed to do.

Bolton found a machine gun next to a cover position on the left side of the blockade, with six ammunition boxes stacked next to it.

The MG08, the German version of the Maxim machine gun, weighs about 60 kilograms, has a fixed mount, a rate of fire of 400-500 rounds per minute, and a range of 2,000 meters.

Joseph crouched down and inspected the gun from the barrel to the ammunition belt.

"How much ammunition do we have left?" Joseph asked.

"Six boxes, two hundred and fifty rounds each," Bolton patted the ammunition boxes, "a total of fifteen hundred rounds."

Joseph mentally reviewed the number.

At full speed, the MG08 can fire 1,500 rounds in about three minutes. But they don't need full speed; they need precision and rhythm. They need to make those 1,500 rounds three times more effective.

"Who would use this?" he asked, turning his head.

There was a moment of silence in the trench. Then Bolton raised his hand, as did another veteran named Shaw, and a young man who had previously worked as a mechanic in a factory.

"Bolton, you're in charge," Joseph said. "Shaw, ammunition handler. Don't go full speed until the very end. Focus on bursts, three to five rounds at a time, then switch targets. Don't track moving targets, aim at stationary firing positions—whatever they'll use as they advance, sandbag piles, tree stumps, find those and block them off."

Bolton had already taken his position as the gunner, tightened the bandages wrapped around his hands, gripped the gun handle, tested the angle, and then slightly adjusted the muzzle to aim at the north.

Joseph walked through the trenches, reconfirming the defensive positions—the MG08 was in the middle. O'Connor was at the top. On the right flank was the Lewis machine gun, brought up from the rear, which could be carried and moved, operated by an old soldier named Green from Harris's platoon, specifically responsible for suppressing the right flank. On the left was the new breastwork that McDonnell had just constructed with sandbags; Tom led a squad on the left, responsible for preventing German infiltration from the flank.

The Lewis is much lighter than the MG08—13 kilograms, which can be carried by one person and does not require two people to lift it when changing positions.

This is why Joseph specifically reserved it for the right wing: the terrain on the right wing is complex and may require rapid shifts in firing positions, which the fixed-mount MG08 cannot handle.

O'Connor called over from the top edge: "Joseph, they're starting to assemble up to the north, two companies, and reinforcements are coming in, setting up machine gun positions."

Joseph did not answer; he turned his head and glanced at the two hundred men in the trench.

Two hundred men, a captured trench, counterattack forces gathering to the north, and a vacuum on the left and right flanks.

They spent three months preparing before breaking into the area.

Now, they will use this trench to withstand everything that comes next.

O'Connor spoke again, this time in a lower voice:

"Joseph—they're about to move."

Joseph picked up the gun, pulled the bolt, chambered a bullet, walked to the north side of the trench, rested the gun on the edge of the earth, and put his eye on the scope.

Three hundred meters away, the figures on the German positions began to move, rising from behind the breastwork, spreading out to face the trench, to face the only salient on the Somme battlefield, which had been dug out by two hundred men and was now surrounded.

Joseph pulled the trigger and fired, "Bang—"

One shot, one shot, one shot; with each shot, he made his breathing follow the bullet.

The sounds of Tom's gunshots, Harris's gunshots, and Bolton's rattling machine gun filled the air—

The entire trench erupted in fire.

*********************

8:15.

The Germans first launched suppressive fire, with three fixed machine gun positions on the north side opening fire simultaneously, sweeping bullets across the top of the British-occupied trenches, causing dirt and sandbag fragments to fall. O'Connor, who was on the top of the trench, quickly ducked down, and a bullet grazed over the top of his helmet, which fell to the ground and rolled twice.

"Damn," O'Connor picked up his helmet and fastened it again, "two inches off."

The suppressive fire lasted for about forty seconds, then the German infantry came out.

Joseph lay down at the edge of the trench and quickly glanced around—the German troops were deployed in three columns, not in a line.

They seem to be veterans; they know what happens when you're in a line.

The three columns advanced swiftly and steadily, utilizing shell craters and remaining terrain.

"Bolton," Joseph said, "on the left flank."

Bolton's MG08 turned towards the left flank of the German column and fired in bursts: "rat-a-tat-tat," three shots, then stopped; "rat-a-tat-tat," three more shots, then stopped. The German column on the left flank scattered, crawling into the shell craters on both sides, but their advance was interrupted, and their rhythm was disrupted.

"O'Connor, the left flank is in chaos, watch the right flank."

O'Connor stuck his head out from under the top of the gun, rested the butt of his rifle on his shoulder, and aimed at the front of the German column on the right flank, waiting.

A soldier on the right flank got up from a shell crater and ran forward; O'Connor immediately fired a shot.

The soldier took two steps and fell to the ground, never to get up again. The right flank halted and retreated into the shell crater.

The middle lane is a problem.

The German troops in the center had advanced to a position of about 200 meters. Their formation was more dispersed, and their movements were shorter, giving O'Connor and Bolton no chance to aim at them calmly.

Joseph reached out to the side, and Tom handed him the rifle. Joseph set it up on the edge of the trench and fired—one shot, one shot, one shot—three shots in quick succession towards the center of the advance. On the third shot, a German soldier fell. The advance in the center paused for five seconds, then continued.

"Bolton, move to the middle."

Bolton's MG08 turned to the center, this time firing continuous long bursts. The bullets swept across the path of the advance in the center, and the German troops in the center immediately lowered their bodies and crawled into the nearest shell crater, halting the advance.

All three routes are closed.

The trench was quiet for about two minutes. The German soldiers lay in place, neither advancing nor retreating.

O'Connor tucked down from the top edge, tapped the butt of his rifle on the ground to dislodge a jammed cartridge case, reloaded the magazine, and looked up at Joseph.

"What are they waiting for?"

"Wait until our machine guns stop," Joseph said, "and see how much ammunition we have left."

"Then?"

"Then the second wave."

O'Connor nodded, expressionless, then lay back down on the top edge, set up the gun, and continued to wait.

Bolton wiped the barrel twice with a cloth; it was slightly warm, but still within usable limits. He pushed the ammunition belt forward a bit to check that the feeding was smooth, and then gripped the handle again.

Xiao opened the second ammunition box next to him, placed it in a convenient position, and got ready.

*********************

8:34.

The second wave of attacks brought cannons.

The Germans set up mortars about 400 meters to the north. The shells landed on the south side of the British-occupied trenches, kicking up dirt and rubble. Everyone in the trenches crouched down, protecting their helmets with their hands, letting the rubble hit them.

The shells were inaccurate, but enough to prevent people from sticking their heads out.

"Take cover!" Sergeant Harris's voice echoed through the trench. No sooner had he spoken than a second shell landed three meters from the southern edge of the trench. The blast wave threw the two nearest men into the trench wall. The two men got up, looked at each other, and, finding that the other was still alive, picked up their guns again.

Under the cover of mortars, the German infantry emerged, this time at a faster pace. No longer advancing in three columns, they spread out in a frontal barrage, pressing forward relentlessly while simultaneously firing suppressive fire towards the British trenches. Bullets whizzed and hissed as they struck the tops of the trenches, the sandbags, and the earthen walls.

Joseph lay prone, head bowed, and raised his hand: "Bolton, await my orders."

Bolton lay prone, his hand on his gun, waiting. Someone on his left shouted urgently, "They're coming, Warrant Officer—"

"Wait," Joseph said.

The German troops were still advancing, 150 meters, 130 meters.