More than a dozen anti-tank missiles interspersed and staggered across the battlefield and then struck directly at the target. Pen? Interesting? Pavilion wWw. ｂiquge。 ｉｎfo

Smoke grenades form artificial mist, jamming bombs shine brightly.

In the first successive explosions, more vehicles on the ambush side caught fire.

Wounded charioteers desperately fled from the hot car, many weeping as they dragged their mutilated bodies away from their former cars.

Most of them were still burning, and many didn't survive for a few minutes, but that didn't stop them from bursting out with far more power than usual in their final moments.

The wail overlapped with the humanoid torch and ran until it fell, and the terrible roar came to an abrupt end.

The flash of the new explosion was much less than the number of detonated missiles, but it was more intense.

Parts and mutilated limbs of the chariot flew in mid-air, and the charioteers who had not had time to escape were reduced to more primitive materials along with the struck chariots and scattered across the vast battlefield.

In the first round of the encounter, it turned out to be the Canyon side that won.

I leaned against the stone wall at the edge of the battlefield, a meaningless chuckle coming out of my mouth.

The adventure and the effort were not in vain.

The large force successfully received information on the ray spectrum.

This is also the reason why the enemy in ambush has not yet left the range of the haze, but has been hit by anti-tank missiles first.

With a long breath, I felt only anger, courage, tyranny, nervousness, and so on.

All that remains is deep exhaustion.

I was so sleepy that I didn't even want to lift my eyelids, and the slight pain in my body was nothing compared to the overwhelming tiredness.

I don't want to go to sleep.

It's not because the battlefield is unsafe or anything. In fact, even if a tank is pressing against me, I don't bother to hide now.

What really reassures me is the follow-up battle situation.

Thanks to my efforts and some luck, the 112th Brigade was able to dodge the enemy's onslaught.

But this is only a small win, and it does not contribute much to the overall situation.

Factors such as terrain, formation, and troop composition are all at a disadvantage for our troops.

Will the comrades-in-arms really escape?

In mid-air, a dense canopy of bright yellow streamers swept over the top of the cliff and plunged into the canyon.

Then the rumbling whistling sound came.

I recognized it as fire support heavy artillery doing accurate fire coverage.

Due to the terrain, the enemy must have pre-determined shooting elements.

Between the narrow cliff walls, the light forms a band of light, winding and raging along the direction of the canyon.

My heart tugged.

Will they escape?

If the enemy takes advantage of the enemy's setback at the exit and retreats with the whole army, it may be too late.

The arrogant Colonel Roland, will he give the order to retreat?

Seeing the enemy's ambush, it was easy to deduce the tactics of covering the gorge with artillery fire, and even if the commander did not remember it for a while, the staff officers of the brigade headquarters would have reminded it.

But will Roland listen?

Since the beginning of the operation, Roland has had many opportunities to avoid falling into this trap.

I think the staff officers must have given advice and advice, but he didn't listen to them.

And how about this time?

Will he still be stubborn?

The shock wave created a murderous turbulence in the canyon, and the piercing roar was mixed with multiple explosions.

The continuous, multiple waves of fire could not be vented from the canyon passage in time, and the surging fire storm rushed straight to the top of the cliff.

The dark night sky was red with firelight.

The data link with the troops was disrupted.

My hope also disappeared in the snowflakes of the screen.

As the company commander described, Roland was a bastard and a second cargo, and he finally forced the 112th Brigade to a dead end.

There was a rumble in the direction of the town.

After the fire was covered, the enemy again launched a concentrated attack.

I don't care how the battle ends anymore.

Trapped in the canyon and a lone army far from the army group, the 112th Brigade ended up with only destruction.

The fatigue came back to me, and I didn't resist, letting the Sandman dominate my body and mind.

……

In the confusion, a familiar voice echoed in my ears.

"Stop, stop! Squad leader, you're not rushing, you're sending you to death. I'm going to let you rush quickly, not to run in a straight line that kills you. It is necessary to know how to change the line, to anticipate the enemy's thinking, and to plan the route in advance......"

There was an unbearable look on Lincoln's face. It was the first time I had seen him say so much, with such a rich expression.

"You say so much, where am I busy, people are not computers, and they can't be multi-threaded, okay?"

While complaining, I tried my best to practice as he said.

"Oops! Changing lines is not a catwalk, you are still walking in a straight line, okay? Wait, look ahead, wall wall! Oh! My blood pressure is going to rise, don't you have the concept of bending when planning the route? ”

Lincoln put his hand on his forehead and made a gesture of slamming to the ground.

Karin, who was watching the training, burst out laughing.

In the distance, Ivan shook his head with his hands on his shoulders. Max smiled sheepishly and looked away.

Chen Bin is the one who laughs the loudest.

But when he noticed Ruan Pai quietly appearing behind him, the laughter was replaced by a choking cough.

In the midst of laughter, I once again straightened my posture, and secretly shouted "rush" in my heart

The body lunges forward at the highest speed it can achieve.

"You have to change the line, you have to be random, you have to plan the route."

While chanting Lincoln's mantra, he maintained his highest speed.

I couldn't help but admire Lincoln even more.

On the surface, it is a tactic of rushing and striking, opening and closing, but in fact it is a delicate tactic that gathers courage and wisdom.

"No, do it again!"

Lincoln shouted behind him.

He didn't let my demands down just because I was the class leader.

"Okay, do it again!"

I cheered myself up.

……

The rustling of footsteps woke me up.

My face was wet and I cried again.

Seeing his comrades-in-arms again, their voices and smiles turned into a faint sadness, which was vented in the form of tears.

I sat in the cockpit for a long time before I recovered.

The rustle continues, it's the enemy.

It's Martian morning.

The sun frames the gold on the edge of the thick clouds.

The sound of footsteps was made by light infantry in twos and threes.

They turned over the corpses, examined the wreckage, and cleaned up the battlefield.

Farther away, enemy infantry vehicles roared into the canyon, and attack planes swept through the sky from time to time.

"Alas!"

The 112th Brigade was defeated or destroyed.

What happened to the Scout Company?

They are located on the side of the cliff and may be able to escape.

When I think of the company commander and Davis, my heart can't help but feel hot.

At least someone I know knows can get out.

Within a radius of dozens of kilometers, maybe I was the only one in the solar system, and then looking at the enemy soldiers around me, the feelings of loneliness and fear rose in my heart again.

I don't want to be a prisoner, not because of honor or ideals, but because I fear being treated inhumanely.

After all the fighting, I knew very well that I was not a strong-willed person, and I could not stand inhuman abuse and insults.

The thought of the legendary brutal torture of the captives made me feel a strong desire to escape.

The enemies sweeping the battlefield approached unhurriedly, rummaging through the wreckage and corpses they encountered along the way.

Most of them were the soldiers of the 112th Brigade who were forced by the flames and rushed out of the canyon.

Corpses were scattered everywhere.

They maintain a last-minute posture, both as if trying to survive as well as as a curse.

I silently estimated in my mind how long it would take for the enemy soldiers to arrive at me.

The peace and security of the outside world is not valid for me.

If the enemy who swept the battlefield found out that I was alive, I would once again face the dilemma of being in enemy position.

The reloaded exoskeleton has no means to fight back, or even move.

He only had a self-defense pistol, not even body armor.

Now I am not even sure how to deal with these lazy light infantry, let alone break out of the encirclement again.

Last night's result was a lot of luck and I was fully armed.

In the current state, it is impossible to leave alive.

It is best to stay up until dark, with the help of the cover of night, to have a chance.

The enemy soldiers came closer.

They held assault rifles, looked east and west, and flipped through the battlefield relics they encountered from time to time.

No matter how you calculate it, the pace of their sweeping of the battlefield will arrive at my location in ten minutes.

The Martian day has just begun, and night will not fall until at least seven hours later.

What am I going to do?