The impact of the First World War on mankind in the twentieth century even exceeded that of the Second World War, and it was another arrogant challenge to the old order by European countries after Napoleon's great empire in France.

The Great War in which Europeans abandoned the rules of the battlefield that had been followed for nearly a hundred years led to the indiscriminate slaughter of large numbers of elites with modern weapons, machine guns and heavy artillery that did not speak of chivalry, whether you were a hereditary aristocrat or a homeless beggar, in front of brass armor warheads.

In addition to the fact that hereditary nobles were more trusted by the monarch than commoners, nobles were also more likely to receive a good military education than commoners, and they were instilled from an early age with all kinds of knowledge that only the ruling class had access to, enabling them to become a qualified leader. Some of the great nobles were even born with the status of an officer, and many did not even need to enter a military school, as long as they joined the army, they automatically received the rank of officer.

In the Victorian British army, all the high-ranking ranks and even commanders' positions, except for those with relatively high technical requirements, could be purchased with money, and of course, only these nobles and gentry with an economic base could afford to buy. It can be said that the British army in the middle and late Victorian periods is rotten and can be compared with the Manchu Eight Banners, the army is controlled by a group of arrogant and arrogant aristocrats and gentry with rigid thinking, and every day is thinking about how to hire more mercenaries with less money, corruption and drinking soldiers' blood and eating empty salaries and smoking opium are not pulled down at all, and the lives of lobster soldiers on the battlefield are equivalent to grass mustard, because ordinary civilians cannot be recruited, the army is full of criminals who are forced to enlist, drunkards and even mentally ill people, and the British army can win two opium wars, It's just that the opponent is rotten more thoroughly than them.

Prussia almost copied the British system in the construction of the army and navy, and by the time of the Second Empire, the number of noble generals in the German army had far exceeded that of the British Empire. The Germanic military aristocracy can be traced back to the Holy Roman Empire, and the rise of the Prussian states cultivated a quasi-military feudal class such as the Junker aristocracy.

However, Kuhnberg was not a new Junker aristocracy, his family name dates back to the days of the Holy Roman Empire, and he was the oldest family in the Kingdom of Bavaria. After hundreds of years of ups and downs, the lineage of the Count of Kuhnberg has almost decayed in his generation, and when the old earl died, he was left with only the title of nobility and an old mansion, and only one sister was left in the family's direct bloodline.

But after all, the Kuhnberg family is an old aristocrat that has been inherited for hundreds of years, and like other aristocratic families, they have a large number of in-laws near and far in the circle, although they cannot count on these relatives in reviving the family business, but the complex network is still very useful. At that time, the title of German aristocracy was still quite bluffing, and as long as Kuhnberg was willing, there would be countless rich landlords or wealthy businessmen who were willing to pay a lot of money to marry his family.

However, Count Kuhnberg was not interested in this, he was bent on reviving his family through his own efforts, so after graduating from university, he decided to join the army, re-embark on the path of his ancestors, and prove his ability and worth with his bravery and wisdom. Because he was a great nobleman and those connections left by his ancestors, Kuhnberg became a second lieutenant officer as soon as he joined the army. Unlike their British counterparts, the German aristocracy had been militarized since childhood, and had a certain understanding of the management and operation of the army, so it was easier for them to integrate into the identity of officers.

Kuhnberg showed considerable effort in the army, although Germany has long begun to enforce compulsory education, but most of the soldier class comes from the countryside, at most has a primary school or junior high school education level, and many people are semi-literate, only know some simple words, can write their own names. Therefore, ordinary aristocratic officers with higher education inherently feel superior in the army. Kuhnberg's promotion was quite fast, at least from Dougan's point of view, the count's military resume was completely an enviable God's favorite.

At the outbreak of the war, Kuhnberg was a lieutenant in the army, commanding an infantry company, but four years later, he was a major battalion commander. During the four years of bloody fighting, the count took part in several large-scale battles in succession, and not only did he survive the battlefield unscathed, but also received several medals and medals. No one doubted the count's courage on the battlefield, and many who knew him thought he was more than worthy of a Blue Max.

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Kuhnberg crouched on the anti-slope of the dirt slope, held up his binoculars to observe the enemy's movements, and then turned back to his subordinates in the foxhole next to the dirt slope and shouted an order: "Steady! Put them to three hundred meters and be sure to aim before shooting. ”

"Yes, sir." The non-commissioned officers began to relay orders, and the soldiers adjusted the moving ruler of their rifles to a gear of three hundred meters.

After running some distance in small steps, the French soldier began to shout for Ulla to charge forward with a sharp whistle.

"Fire!" Kuhnberg commanded.

The Germans began to shoot at the oncoming French, and the muzzles of a dozen MG08 water-cooled machine guns sprayed pale cyan smoke, and the battlefield echoed with a dull sound like the clanging of hammers against steel blocks. The swarm of Mauser bullets swept across the French formation, the soldiers who had been shot fell to the ground without saying a word, the wounded clutched their wounds and wailed, and the officers and non-commissioned officers brandished their pistols and kicked the soldiers who were lying in the fields to take refuge, dragging them up and moving on.

The German machine guns began to fire continuously, and the French, who had absolute numerical superiority, were driven forward by the officers, and the commanders seemed to be unconcerned about the losses suffered. The field in front of the position was now full of the remains of the French soldiers in blue coats, but the follow-up soldiers were still straight, holding Lebel 1886 rifles with magazines that could only hold three bullets, and their mouths let out meaningless roars, charging at the Germans with deep and shallow feet in the rain-soaked fields.

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"We repelled five or maybe six charges, and it was incomprehensible that they were using the same tactic from start to finish, which was to line up in a line and charge in waves." Dougan placed a cup of coffee in front of Kuhnberg.

"Before the French soldiers were sent to the battlefield, they only went through some simple training, and the officers had no means, they could not get these soldiers to perform more complex tactics, and they also lacked experienced front-line non-commissioned officers." Wehrle put two sugar cubes in his coffee, then pushed the jar towards Kuhnberg, who was sitting at the table.

"Thank you, Your Excellency." Kuhnberg nodded gracefully in acknowledgement.

"Even then, we couldn't last long. Casualties are still secondary, and most of the ammunition we carry has already been consumed. As soon as the enemy artillery entered the position, the situation on the battlefield immediately turned into a flip. Dogan stirred the coffee in front of him with a silver spoon.

"What did you think about it, Count Kuhnberg?" Wehrle lowered his head and took a sip of his coffee.

"Truth be told, I've forgotten what I thought at the time, Your Excellency. We fight the enemy and die for the country, this is the mission and responsibility of the military. Kuhnberg said indifferently.

"And what are you doing now? Mr. Earl. You disguise yourself as a British journalist ... I will not ask what happened to the real Mr. Henry, but I will only want to know why you did this, and for what purpose you are so intent on trying to get close to the Führer. Wehrle put down his coffee cup.

"I believe Colonel Dougan's assessment, you may have been a hero on the battlefield. But... It is possible to change as long as you are human, and I have seen so many things like this, and I have seen firsthand how a patriot can turn into a traitor. Wehrle reached out and stroked the tablecloth countertop, his eyes showing sadness. The scene of Canaris' execution resurfaced in front of him once again.

"I think I understand what you mean, General Verrle, and whether you believe it or not, I am definitely not a traitor. Actually, when I set out, I was ready to be seen through by you, but I was surprised that I was able to rely on this clumsy disguise to successfully infiltrate the venue of the press conference. At that time I was far from von. Stade was less than twenty meters, and Colonel Dougan should have known that I was a good shooter and did not need to fire a second shot at all at this distance. Kuhnberg rubbed his fingers against the bronzing handle of the coffee cup.

"You have a weapon?" Wehrle asked, frowning.

"No, but those reporters have brought in all the typewriters, will it be difficult to carry a pistol?" Kuhnberg replied with a smile.

"This is a serious loophole that must not happen again, Dogen." Wheeler turned his face to look at Dogan.

"There will never be a second time, I promise, General." Dougan replied respectfully.

"Well, Count Kuhnberg, tell me your true intentions, and since you say that it is not to the detriment of the Führer, then there must be some other purpose, not necessarily for a dinner party that does not cost money." Wehrle asked.

"Of course not for this meal, you are mean, Your Excellency. As I said earlier, I'm ready to be caught by you. Kuhnberg replied with a smile.

"You mean, you deliberately sneaked into the Führer's Mansion in order to be caught by us? God, do you know what kind of risk you're taking? Your Excellency, you are simply playing with your life, and if Colonel Dougan hadn't recognized you today, you would have been hanged in the underground torture chamber of the General Security Bureau, tortured by the Gestapo. Werler's eyes widened, the answer was unexpected.

"I know very well what you are talking about, and I have been prepared for a long time. But in order to accomplish my plan, it was totally worth taking some risks. Kuhnberg replied.

"Plans? Do you still have plans? Yes, of course you should have a plan. Dogan nodded in agreement.

"Well, you've confused me, Mr. Earl, what the hell do you want to do?" Wehrle picked up his coffee.

"I want to be here, with the help of your strength, to complete my own redemption, Your Excellency." Kuhnberg replied solemnly.

"Redemption?" Weirle frowned.

"Yes, I want to save my homeland, my loved ones, and myself. Your Excellency, I don't have a second way to go. Kuhnberg replied loudly.

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"We don't have a second way to go!" Kuhnberg knelt beside Dogen's foxhole, his uniform covered in black sludge.

"This is the fate of the 3rd Battalion, and I and my men will take the final moment in stride. But it's not your fate and that of your men, and I'm sorry to get you involved in this fight, Sergeant Dogen. I will lead the rest of the men until the last moment, and your task has been accomplished, and now someone must report the situation here to the rear, and I fear that there are still troops who have not withdrawn from the river in time, and that someone must go and warn them, or they may be attacked by the French. Kuhnberg said aloud to Dogen, who then took a Bavarian military cross from his collar and stuffed it into Dogen's hand.

"Take this medal, give it to my family, and tell her how I died in battle, without tarnishing the honor of the Kuhnberg family. You're the best non-commissioned officer I've ever met, and you don't deserve to die in this place. ”

"I refuse, Major. You can have a soldier do this, like Haynes, the kid is only seventeen. ”

"Haynes is dead, Dogan. Now leave immediately with your men, this is my last order. Kuhnberg's tone was stern.

"But..."

"No but, carry out the order immediately, sergeant." Kuhnberg shouted.

"Damn it! Major, what a bastard! Dougan scolded loudly, and he tucked the medal into the inner pocket of his uniform.

"For my sake, I'm going to see God, and I'm not going to hold you accountable for insulting officers, Sergeant." Kuhnberg stood up and strode towards the dirt slope.

"All ready to fight!" The major drew his pistol from the holster.

"Bert! Klein! Greendoug! Come with me, a few of you. Dogan looked back at the Major's back, then rolled over and crawled out of the foxhole, shouting at his men.

PS: I don't know what went wrong today, I can't enter the writer's area, and I said that there was an error in the password, which really scared me, and it took me half a day to complete the revision.

I promise you a big chapter, 4,000 words, count it as a chapter.

Thank you for your understanding, and you should be able to update normally tomorrow.