Lev1 gk ! 3ؙ 15ba >J r r 7 V (mD t@! /켟 In front of him, the French defense line was close at hand, and Wavell suddenly felt that his vision was a little dazed.

He had just received a report of the stalemate in the southern end, and now the northern end of the battle was also in a dead end.

Wavell is a little incomprehensible, these French have already surrendered to Germany once, and again to the British Empire, is it so difficult?

Could it be because the British betrayed them, ruined their main naval forces, intercepted their overseas merchant ships, and wanted to occupy their oil fields...... Well, it seems true that there is quite a bit of hatred already.

Actually, Wavell should have understood. The Algerian oil fields were the money bag of Vichy France, and the hope of France's post-war revival. If anyone moves here, there is no reason why France should not fight with it.

This is equivalent to Britain holding the second child of the French, ready to cut it off and keep it for yourself, can others not be anxious with you?!

It stands to reason that Wavell's men also bought off a small number of traitors in the French army as an inside line, and he should not lack advantages.

But in reality, in the northern offensive he personally commanded, he left nothing but a dense mass of corpses, deafening explosions, and wreckage everywhere.

It was Wavell's eighth attack and the seventh by the British. As a result, there is still no progress.

Although he was very unwilling, Wavell had to give the order to stop the offensive. After all, his soldiers are not iron-clad, from Egypt to counterattack, all the way to Libya chasing the Italians, and now to the war with the French and Algeria, Wavell's troops have long been exhausted.

At this time, even if it was just an echelon and taking turns to attack, his troops would not be able to carry out the battle orders.

This is not on English soil, nor on French soil.

This is Africa, a battlefield where the environment is harsher than that of Europe, and the physical drain on both sides is very great.

The French army, as the defending side, was slightly better, but on the British side, as the attacking side, the physical exertion of the soldiers was too drastic.

The French troops under the personal command of Belant, after this attack showed that they were still strong and complete defenses, there was not much point in continuing to fight.

It's time to take a different approach, or rather a different direction, to solve the current deadlock.

After Wavell ordered the offensive to be stopped, the British and French sides tacitly stopped the artillery fire, and the entire northern battlefield suddenly fell into a tacit silence.

The medical soldiers on both sides took advantage of this gap to shuttle quickly at the junction of the battlefield, and some of them even passed by and looked at each other.

However, the medics did not communicate with each other, nor did they have any superfluous gestures, they only hurried to bring their own survivors, who were still screaming on the battlefield, back to the field hospital behind the position.

This is a time to recover the wounded.

On the other side, the combat troops of the two sides facing each other from afar were watching their own medical personnel while coldly monitoring their distant opponents. Although the gunfire stopped, the muzzle of the gun was still aimed at the enemy's position.

Here, there are too many French people, squeezed with a lot of hatred in their hearts, waiting for catharsis. Not to mention that the British army came to the door by themselves today, even if the British did not come, many French generals hoped that General Belant would take them to fight over.

The disaster in Port Oran took place right under the noses of the Algerian garrison. They witnessed first-hand how their naval colleagues were deceived by Churchill with a letter of condolence, and then attacked by the British.

On the French positions, the sappers were busy consolidating their positions, and in many places, white and black soldiers had been mixed and placed on the front.

The leader of these soldiers, the French general and governor of Algeria, Berente, was walking one step at a time through the dusty trench passages.

The footsteps of the soldiers, the orders of the junior officers, everything made Belant feel that his troops still had enough will to fight.

The casualty reports of the various defense sections have just been sent to Belante.

First, the northern end of the defensive line, where the 30,000 Algerian recruits had been disrupted. And the one and a half French divisions brought by Belante himself now have a casualty rate of 21 percent.

The additional 20,000 Algerian recruits have been sent to the northern end of the defense line, and in the hands of various grassroots officers, it can be regarded as adding some of the combat effectiveness of the northern end of the defense line.

However, the most bitter thing is the southern end of the defensive line. Because of its weak strategic significance, Bérant left only half of the French division there as a garrison. Even with the addition of 20,000 Algerian recruits, the number of troops there is really not enough.

In addition, Berente had already heard that the logistics of the southern front had been suppressed, and that someone was secretly making trouble. In this way, the troops at the southern end may be even worse than the northern end where they are located.

After embracing several lightly wounded men in the trenches, another soldier with a red gauze wrapped around his head beside him collapsed to the ground against the trench with his neck twisted weakly.

Several lightly wounded people, under the gaze of Belant, silently turned their heads.

Everyone could see that the seriously wounded man who fell to the ground could no longer hold on. The unstoppable blood in his gauze had stained the original white medical gauze red, and along with the dust, soaked the top of his head.

"Medic!" Belant immediately shouted.

Medics are perhaps the busiest and hardest to find right now. There were so many people waiting for them to come to their aid throughout the central position that they really didn't have the energy to take care of a wounded man in the trenches.

However, Bronte was also the highest general, and under his greeting, a young medical soldier with a medical kit finally appeared, and hurriedly ran over.

It's a pity that the medical soldiers who arrived in such a busy time did not bring life to so many wounded on the ground.

After just lifting the man up for a few glances, the Medic shook his head regretfully from Belante, then gently put the man back on the ground and ran away where the Medic was needed.

"General, will we win this time?"

Just when everyone thought that the seriously wounded man on the ground was out of life, he asked coldly and softly in the direction of Bironte.

No one knows when he will come back to his senses, or maybe it's just his return to light.

Belante, who had always paid attention to the neatness of his army, half-knelt in the black trench, shook the hand that was too cold to be cold, and let his military uniform be stained with mud mixed with a little red slime.

Unfortunately, without waiting for Belante's reply, the soldier's godless pupils spread rapidly with a twitch of his body......