Gastens did not hold out much hope for the class consciousness of these people. Give them a class analysis, and those who can understand it may slowly realize something, while those who don't understand it will only think that it is an excuse to be exposed. Gastens doesn't put everything on the bright side. He just tells everyone the truth about how the world works in a cold and direct way, in response to the situation they encounter. Some of these people are forced to commit crimes, and most of them are simply wicked. Gastens did not have much inclination to develop revolutionary comrades among these people. This was different from the revolutionary comrades he wanted, and it was not the object of his own ranks. However, it is not a bad thing to plant some specious revolutionary ideas in the consciousness of these people, at least when he rises up, someone else can help him share the pressure from the ruling class.

"Garth, why do you think someone is snitching? I had already helped them get the contract and give them freedom, but why did they have to go back and work as cattle and horses for those dog landlords? ”

Within a week of arriving in Ithaca, Gastens had earned respect in a small circle by his eloquence and previous behavior. The so-called things gather like and people are grouped, and most of the people gathered around him are people who are dissatisfied with society and have even taken all kinds of radical actions, but they can't find a direction. Gastens has a vague identity as a teacher in this group.

"Because they can't fight the system," Gastens said, "you killed the landlords, yes." But there will be new landlords coming, and there will be police going to arrest you. For some, when you kill the landlords and return their slave deeds, you don't give them freedom, but you give them a dagger that will hurt you. They don't believe that you can fight against the police, more landlords and this system of serfdom, and if you can't, then they will only become fugitives, and their life may not be as good as that of serfs, so they have to snitch. ”

"So what did I do wrong? Shouldn't I kill the landlord? Or shouldn't you give them back all the slave deeds they have ever had? ”

"You didn't do anything wrong, you just didn't do it well enough......"

Gastens began to teach Zink some basic revolutionary theories, and Zink listened to it with interest, as did the rest of the people around the two. In this barracks, where there is no regulation and constraint, and you don't know which remote corner of the country you have, you can let go of your own thoughts and fear of life and death to the greatest extent possible, and find your favorite path.

“…… What the are you talking about! Give Lao Tzu a sleep! Tomorrow you have to touch the gun, if anyone does not sleep well and delays things, beware of Lao Tzu breaking his legs! ”

Instructor Frezzi's scolding interrupted the discussion, and the obedient daredevils who had been trained climbed into bed one by one, hastily took off their clothes, wrapped themselves in a black blanket of unknown color, and closed their eyes. Frezzie watched as everyone began to, and called Gastens to a corner outside the barracks.

"Gastens, I don't care what you're talking to these scumbags, I don't want to know. But if you delay their training and make them die faster on the battlefield, beware that I will blow your skull with my own hands! ”

Although he was abusive, Gastens actually heard the concern in Instructor Tom Frazzi's words. He nodded, trying to explain, but was interrupted by Frezzy.

"I told you I don't care what the fuck you're talking about! All I care about is how many of you scum can survive three charges! Lao Tzu has trained soldiers, one out of five can survive! You kid memorized it for me! ”

Reaching out and punching Gastens hard, Frezzie turned away. Gastens pondered what Frazzi meant, and then suddenly realized that a 20% survival rate seemed like a good number for the daredevils. He silently pinched his sweat and went back to the dormitory, only to find that half of the people in the dormitory were peeking at him and chatting with the instructor on the crack of the door.

"What are you looking at? Sleep sleep! ”

"Oh......"

The soldiers crawled back to the bunk and did not say anything. But Gastens knew that they might be worried about what the perverted instructor would do to them. He laughed softly, silently, and found his bed in the innermost part of the room.

"That old pervert didn't do anything to you, did he?"

Big Ivan, who was lying next to him, asked in a low voice, and Gastens answered a few words and fell into a deep sleep. Tomorrow he will see a real military weapon, a steam rifle, which makes him look forward to something. The effectiveness of those weapons will largely determine the life and death of his group on the battlefield.

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"That's what it is...... Steam rifles for us? ”

Although they did not have expectations, Gastens was really shocked when they actually saw the rifles assigned to them. This old rifle, known as the Type 27 rifle, was used in his first life, and it was the first generation of products designed and finalized twenty years ago, not only the steam backpack was large and bulky, there was no secondary gas storage device, and the chamber pressure was also pitiful. Limited by limited chamber pressure, the gun either fired small lead bullets to ensure a range of about 100 meters and gave up its power. Either it fires a copper bullet of the same shape, which has a reduced range of less than 40 meters, but can increase the power slightly.

"It's nice to have a gun!" , is explaining to everyone the use of the steam rifle Frezzy glanced at Gastens, "You will know when you try it, this thing is not as reliable as you think, basically after two shots, the enemy will rush in front of you, and then it will depend on your real brothers!" ”

As he spoke, Frazzi pulled out a scimitar. The scimitar had been hanging from Frezzi until now, and Gastens had thought it was something like a command knife, only to find out that it was the weapon that everyone was going to have.

"Listen to me! The Type 27 rifle is very useful, but it takes too long to reload and it takes a long time to recharge, and you don't have much time to reload when facing the enemy on the battlefield! So, you only have two shots! Keep an eye on your fingers! Increase your reload efficiency and fire as many shots as you can! Got it! After firing two shots, you can rush up with your knife and slash and kill! Those who can cut down the enemy and survive are the masters! Got it! ”

Hearing this, Gastens suddenly realized a problem. Because of the long period of peace, the armies of the six great powers did not have much combat experience. By the time he first participated in the Great War, the tactics of pressing guns, controlling the enemy's distance, and platoon guns were already widespread. Looking at the content taught by the instructors now, it is obvious that everyone is still using the old tactics of indiscriminate guns and slashing. If such a tactic encounters the same team, it is fine, but if it encounters a team that uses the tactics of platooning guns, it is estimated that their own side will die miserably.

Thinking of this, Gastens wanted to remind the instructor, but quickly held back the words. He is a death row prisoner, who wants to believe what he says? Only when war breaks out and his approach is empirically tested can he prove his correctness with facts.

Although he couldn't prove himself right for the time being, Gastens had to admit one thing after gaining a deeper understanding of the weapons in his opponent's hands. That is, in all his knowledge, he had never used such a difficult weapon. Even if his identity in the previous life was the same as now, he was also a serf soldier, but the steam rifle he used at that time still had an automatic voltage stabilizing device and overvoltage protection. And the heavy, old, dangerous steam rifle he now held in his hand needed to be manually controlled even for gas storage. In the desperate battlefield, who has time to carefully adjust the cylinder pressure?

Gastens and his daring teammates practice shooting at Ithaca's range. Despite the inefficiency and stupidity of the design of the steam rifle, the superiority of the first two guns kept these weapons in place. According to the instructions of the instructor Tom Frezi, after encountering the enemy, they should stop and pressurize the cylinder, and then rush to the enemy, wait for the opportunity to shoot, after shooting, throw away the steam pack, take out the scimitar, and fight the enemy face to face.

Gastens didn't know which idiot had designed such a complicated and inefficient process, and he even wondered if it had been tested in real combat. After all, the current Ankenrein is not the tyrannical empire that has experienced a year of war and has rapidly improved its tactics and weapons when he joined the war in the previous life, but a lion cub who has just woken up from its slumber and has even forgotten how to bite people. Gastens had no hope for such an army, and his only hope was that his enemies, if any, would be worse than him.

"Aim, shoot! Like I taught you! Don't aim too long! Just have a general direction! ”

Instructor Tom Frezzie walked past the soldiers standing in a line. They were practicing defensive formations, with everyone's steam packs at their feet, using a pedal on the side of the pack to control the valve. When you press the pedals, the cylinder and the cylinder on the rifle are connected, and the high-pressure steam can enter the cylinder through the hose. When the soldiers feel that the pressure is enough, they can disconnect the valve, aim at the target and pull the trigger. And during this whole process, the soldiers can only rely on their own feelings to judge the cylinder pressure, which can easily lead to the overload of those low-quality cylinders.

"Bang-"

There was an explosion in the distance, and another unlucky person's gas cylinder exploded, and high-temperature steam gushed out of the gas cylinder, making a short hissing sound. Immediately after, one of the soldiers standing to the left of Gastens howled.

"He's so miserable, he probably got burned by steam."

Standing next to Gastens is Ivan Allen, he is physically strong, and after this time together, he has completely become Gastens's little brother.

"This thing is too prone to problems, how can you fight in this state?" , Gastens couldn't help but complain.

"So the knife is our best partner, these bird guns can't kill people from a distance, and they are useless." Ivan replied to Gastens in the words of an instructor, and while he clumsily tried to aim, he learned to complain about the backwardness of the firearms. Gastens watched him devote himself and did not bother him. He tried to aim at a distant target and pulled the trigger. After a soft gunshot, he saw his record with the naked eye.

Off center, 6 rings.

For a smoothbore gun, this record really can't be too demanding.

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Shooting training did not take up much time in the training of this group of daredevils, most of the time, they practiced scimitars, fighting, and building up their strength. Ithaca's food was poor, but it was good enough to be full, and after two weeks of practice, everyone ate a lot of food. And the attentive Gastens noticed that more and more people were entering the barracks. Buildings of dilapidated dormitories were cleared and repurposed, and more food and equipment were brought in. The dirt road in front of the barracks had been deeply rutted by the passing carriages.

It's going to be war.

Gastens told his teammates his judgment one night, but even Sink Warren, the serf rebel who killed his landlord, didn't quite believe him.

"There's a great magister here, and I haven't fought in years. They said that if they really wanted to fight, they would change into the military clothes of those small principalities and sneak out to fight. ”

"Actually, it's better to fight, so that we can go back alive. It's hairy to train like this! "Someone in the crowd complained.

"Whatever else you want? You can't let the instructor give you a girl, right? I don't know who replied, and everyone laughed out loud. Gastens smiled in agreement, worried about the war that was getting closer.

And as it turned out, his hunch came true.

Two days later, Gastens' 19th Death Storm received orders to go out, just three weeks after they entered the new barracks. Their instructor, Tom Frezi, told them that on the last day, there was no training, only rest.

That night, while everyone was drinking a rare and inferior spirit, someone found Gastens.

"Garth, why should we work for those noble lords we have never seen?"

The soldier named Simon Evan was a loyal listener to Gastens's dinner lectures, and although he was uneducated and illiterate, he had a good grasp of what Gastens said. Garth didn't know why he came to the death squad, the people in the team had asked once, Simon didn't say, and no one asked again.

"Because we can't decide our own destiny."

Simon was quiet for a while, and the men not far away shouted loudly, and they rushed to the battlefield, even the scum of the death squad, and they were allowed to indulge in the carnival.

"How can we decide our own destiny?" Simon asked again, his eyes reverent.

Looking at Simon in front of him, Gastens wanted to use less direct words to perfunctory, but after thinking about it, he gave a more direct answer.

"Climb within the system, or, destroy the system."

Simon was quiet for a moment, and when he looked up again, his gaze became unwavering.

"I think about it, I'll just take this life, there's no point in dying for these noble lords who don't know bullshit, I'm going to leave here."

Gastens thought about it and didn't think it was a good idea. He tried to persuade Simon, but he didn't listen. Ultimately, he can only wish Simon the best of luck.

That night, when everyone's party was over, Gastens was half-asleep when he heard the faint sound of someone going out, and he knew that it was Simon.

The next morning, the soldiers, who had only been training for three weeks, set out in crooked queues, walking for two hours to the station, taking a steam locomotive to the border, and then going into battle. Their leader was a strange officer who didn't say anything, so Gastens didn't even know who he was going to fight.

Twenty minutes after the team left the barracks, Gastens saw Simon.

Simon, who died, was hung on a cross by the side of the road.

Simon Evan.