The enemy's array is dense, which is well suited to such a not very accurate strike weapon as the Hall rocket. In the telescope, the white cavalry was still far behind, apparently waiting for the black legions to break through the line before striking the fatal blow.

Suddenly, several carriages dragged by horses appeared behind the infantry, and at first Liang Hong thought it was artillery, but later it became clear that it was the Makqin machine gun placed on it. Keeping the machine gun closer, he changed his mind, the Hall rocket has a slightly longer range than the Maxim machine gun, but unfortunately the accuracy is poor, and it will startle the snake.

The array of black soldiers briefly formed at eight hundred meters, and then continued to move forward. The drums are beating and the ranks are neat, making people look like watching a war blockbuster of the Napoleonic era. Let the bullets clean them up, Liang Hong glanced at the machine guns, gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to use Hall rockets to bombard the infantry.

Barron was also watching through the telescope. The building complex surrounded by wooden stakes on the opposite side should be the core camp of the Ming tribe, and the figures on the wooden wall are shaking, thinking that they are defending the natives. A sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth, for the modern army of machine guns and cannons, the indigenous wooden walls of the Long Contradiction-era were as fragile as window paper.

He was pleased that the troops on the march were still in order. It took a lot of effort to train these Bechuana gunners, and now they are finally seeing results. Well-trained black soldiers, under the command of white officers, had suppressed Rhodesian rebellions, and the neat array itself was a declaration of might, and the indigenous tribes were invincible under such attacks.

"Machine gun follow-up"

Following his order, two Maxim machine guns, towed by horses, followed the array forward. This was for fire support, and Barron had seen the old rifles in the hands of the natives of the Ming tribe, single-shot, and the products of the Germans from a long time ago. After entering the range of that black powder bullet, this rifle will inflict damage on the attacking army, so send a machine gun to suppress the fire at this time.

Chomba walked in the third line of the queue, he came from a tribe on the edge of the Bechuana Desert and joined the South African company police force purely out of the lure of a two-pound-a-month salary. He was content to have enough to eat, clothes and shoes to wear, and a considerable reward in the eyes of his fellow people. The tribal chief said that joining the British army was defending the natives of the Bechuana Reserve, which was quite noble and made him even more proud.

With the sound of drums in their ears, everyone took steps according to the drums, and the afterglow of their eyes swept to the nearby ranks, consciously controlling the length of their strides to keep the ranks neat. Chomba was a little excited, he had seen the enemy killed by the forward detachment, and unlike his light black skin, it was some yellow race. I don't know why they fought against these people, maybe they were all accomplices of the Boers. The evil Boers are white, and more than ten years ago they broke into Bechuana, killed many people, and robbed large tracts of land. Fortunately, the powerful British came forward to protect them, otherwise they would have been miserable.

"Chomba, keep up!"

Very harsh reprimand, the voice of the white detachment leader Larson, Chomba hurriedly bothered and increased his stride.

Bang, gunshots rang out ahead, and Chomba heard Larsson's screams.

This shot was fired by Liang Hong, and the distance of 600 meters was almost the limit of the accurate shooting of the Lee Enfield long rifle. He tested that at a distance of 500 meters, the rifle impact points were mostly scattered within a radius of more than 20 centimeters, and the accuracy of this gun was very high, about 2 MOA. (Note:1)

The target, of course, was the white officer of the greatest value, and for greater certainty, he aimed it at the chest. The result was good, and in the binoculars, the white officer fell to the ground, and the bullet deviated from the center of the chest and hit the right side of the chest, probably the lobe of the lung.

There was confusion in the marching ranks, and the whole detachment stopped and watched their captain. Larson fell to the ground, his hands and feet twitching, blood gushing out of his mouth. Chomba was suddenly a little frightened, and for a moment he felt that the word death could be very close.

Soon, the black officers came out to maintain order, and the white men who arrived took over Larson's command.

The team finally moved back on, and Barron lowered his binoculars, perhaps it was just a minor accident, and it was not unusual for a few sharpshooters among the natives to be among them. However, the continuous gunfire after that overturned his speculation.

Fourteen rifles fired at each other, and people in the marching line kept falling. For ordinary soldiers, at a distance of more than three hundred meters, the shooting is already inaccurate, but the exception is a dense array. Just like a hundred years ago, muskets lined up to shoot, and you don't need a very good shooter, and almost every bullet fired can hit the enemy.

The notch in the rifle fits into the black standard-bearer who is walking in the front, and the rifle is slightly angled so that the remaining bullet can hit the person behind. Before Liang Hong could pull the trigger, the black flag bearer had already been shot, and the military flag in his hand fell into the dust. I don't know who hit it first, so he had to choose another target.

The team marched forward with bullets, fourteen rifles like fourteen bloodthirsty vipers, bullets constantly biting the unlucky prey. After a few rounds, the black soldiers who walked in the front row were almost cleansed.

Chomba had become a second-row walker, with the occasional bullet passing by, whistling and disappearing. Suddenly there was a scream, and the soldier walking in front of him shook violently, and then fell weakly. It's Calondo, the guy who likes to pout his ass dance, from his neighboring tribe. According to the rules, Chomba should not hesitate to fill in and take the first row. But instead of stepping forward, he stooped down to pick up the curled Calondo, who was curled up on the ground, the bullet hitting the abdomen, and blood pouring out of the bullet holes in his uniform.

"Joe—"

Carondo tried to call his name, but couldn't get it out completely.

The soldiers behind him walked past one by one, their feet clattering, trampling over the dry earth, rolling up the floating dust.

"Coward, get up, forward!"

In the midst of the shouting, Chomba was kicked down by his leather boots, and then saw the black barrel of the pistol in front of him. The white officer had a hideous face, and Chomba had no doubt that if he resisted at the slightest, the muzzle would shoot a bullet. With bloodied hands, he hurriedly grabbed his rifle and stumbled into the line that continued to move forward.

Even with well-trained soldiers, marching in a line formation, the speed was still slow. Five minutes advanced a distance of less than three hundred meters, and at the back of the queue, dozens of wounded and dead bodies were left behind.

As he stepped into the 300-meter limit, the firepower on the opposite side suddenly increased. First the wandering gunners in the trench fired, and then clouds of smoke rose from the entire wooden wall, like buds blooming like mist. Countless bullets rained down into the ranks, and the soldiers who walked in front were knocked down layer by layer, and then the entire array completely collapsed. Some turned around and ran back despite the white officer's obstruction, while others simply lay down on the spot and let the bullets whizz overhead. Chomba chose to lie down on the spot, watching his companion run past him and collapse not far away. I'm still alive, and it must be the great Morimer who blesses me, and he secretly rejoices. His tribe worships Morimmer as the supreme god, the patron saint of light, who can turn into thunder and lightning to punish evil, or the sun can shine on the world to warm the world.

"Bastard!"

Barron angrily threw down the binoculars, he didn't expect that the opponent's fire would be so ferocious. If he had been surprised by the small number of smokeless powder rifles on the other side, he was even more shocked by the fact that so many black powder rifles could shoot accurately from a long distance. Where is this native, it is simply an army, already close to the combat capabilities of European armies.

"Fight back, fight back with all your might!"

Da Da

The crossfire of the two machine guns was already terrifying, and there were four gun carriages pulling the wheels behind them, and under the suppression of the machine-gun fire, the white officers began to organize their ranks and regroup the remaining black troops.

Liang Hong was lying behind a sandbag, and several times he tried to poke out to shoot, but was fired back by a machine gun. The violent rain of bullets was repeated and strafed, and the bullets hit the wooden stakes, causing wood chips to fly, crumbling to the skin and causing pain. Some of the stakes had been broken, revealing the sandbags piled up behind. The bullet made a popping sound when it was fired into the sandbag, and under the continuous blow, it could shake the bag and shake it slightly.

The warrior next to him fired a shot, but then a muffled grunt was heard. Liang Hong turned his head to look over, only to see the soldier bleeding profusely, lying next to the sandbag, and the rifle in his hand fell to the ground. The bullet entered through the eye socket and pierced the entire skull, and the person was already dead.

The sustained ability of the Maxim machine gun was extremely strong, and the six machine guns fired alternately, and under the suppression of strong and sustained firepower, they lost the opportunity to expand the results behind the wall.

Outside the fence, the enemy's bugle sounded again. Liang Hong quietly poked out half of his head to observe, and saw the scattered black army regrouping, and this time behind the black soldiers, there was an extra line of white soldiers. The number of people in the entire array is not much the same as the last attack.

Da Da Liang Hong hurriedly retracted his head, and the bullet flew over the sandbag and flew farther behind him. Six machine guns, lined up at a distance of 700 meters, not only put the Maxim machine guns in effective range, but also exceeded the accurate shooting of rifles. It was impossible for him to shoot the machine gunner, and even to shoot at the marching infantry was a great risk.

Suddenly, a sharp whistling sound was heard in the air, flying over the wall from far and near.

Note 1: MOA is a unit of shooting accuracy, Minute-of-Angle, translated into Chinese is the angle, which refers to 1 of 60 parts of 1 degree within 360 degrees. Lee Enfield Long Rifle 2MOA, Lee Enfield Short Rifle 3MOA. Modern ordinary sniper rifles have 1/2 MOA, and excellent sniper rifles can reach 1/4 MOA.