At this moment, a Demon Wing soldier suddenly burst out, covering the mouth of an allied soldier with one hand and holding a scimitar against the soldier's neck with the other. The curved blade of the Nepalese scimitar was just stuck in his neck, and when he gently stretched out his hand and pulled it, he snorted the relaxed sound of cutting meat, and a bloody arrow suddenly flew out of the soldier's neck, and then blood gushed out.

He clutched his neck in horror, and he still hadn't realized what was going on. He wanted to roar, he wanted to roar, but his throat was cut and he couldn't make any sound except for a snoring gasp, he looked around helplessly, the feeling of not being able to breathe and bleeding heavily made him feel a burst of despair, but no one could help him, because at this time, the dozen or so people who were roasting the fire were all holding their necks, and their faces were terrified.

It was all in vain, and a few black shadows quietly put down the Allied soldiers on duty, and after they fell to the ground and convulsed a few times, they gradually lost their movement. From beginning to end, without making the slightest sound, after killing a few guards on duty, a dozen figures quickly dispersed, and one person slipped into a tent.

They did not use guns, but continued to use the scimitar, holding down a person's mouth, and then quickly put the knife on his neck, pulling hard, silently, the Nepalese scimitar was extremely sharp, and the knife could almost cut the cervical vertebrae, and the soldier who cut his throat would die quickly after two convulsions. They started very cleanly, and it was clear that they had done this before, and in this way, they went from bed to bed, and soon their bodies were soaked with blood, and the tent was filled with a pungent smell of blood.

Camp after camp, the temperature in winter is so low that even the inside of the camp is several degrees below zero, so the soldiers sleep very dead, and most importantly, they do not believe that anyone will attack the camp at night. In just half an hour, at least half of the camp had been visited by them, and at that moment, an Allied soldier walked out of the camp in a daze, walked into a corner, unzipped his pants, pulled out his words, and began to pee.

Suddenly, he smelled an extremely strong smell of blood coming from the tent in front of him, "Where did such a strong smell of blood come from in the camp?" He muttered to himself in confusion as he continued to release the water happily. At this time, the corner of his eyes inadvertently swept over a tent not far away, and saw a black figure quickly swept out of the tent, his body was covered with camouflage nets, and he was carrying a black curved blade in his hand, and the tip of the knife was dripping blood from time to time.

The soldier was instantly stunned, the black figure was obviously wearing a uniform that was not their ally, and his sleepiness was suddenly frightened by the memory of the scimitar in his hand and the smell of blood in the tent. "Enemy ...... Enemy...... Enemy attack......" The soldier shouted loudly at the throat of his broken gong, though his voice trembled.

"Enemy attack...... Enemy attack......" The soldier yelled as he ran back, and even urinated on his pants, and he couldn't care less. He climbed up to their tent, and though he shouted loudly, the soldiers in the tent still looked dim and unawake. The soldier, with his legs weakened, struggled to crawl up to his tent, grabbed a rifle from the mouth of the tent and shot it at the shadow that was coming at him in the distance. The silence of the night was broken by a muffled thud ......, but the soldier never had a chance to fire a second shot, as a spinning scimitar slashed his neck in the distance, and then his head fell lightly behind him in a column of blood.

Although such a soldier died in such an unknown way, he did not die in vain, at least the shot he fired before his death finally alarmed the entire camp. Although the vigilance of this army was a little worse, it was a well-trained regular army, and in less than two minutes, rows of well-dressed and heavily armed soldiers rushed out of the various tents.

However, this time they were greeted by heavy machine guns and mortars that had already been set up at various commanding heights, and the ......Allied soldiers had just rushed out of the camp tents, and the heavy firepower that had been arranged around them opened fire almost simultaneously, and countless light bands shot towards the camp like meteors, and rows of Allied soldiers fell down like wheat harvesting.

"Boom, boom, boom......" The mortars and shoulder-fired rocket launchers that followed also spewed dazzling sparks, one after another, and the rockets dragging the flames smashed into the crowd, and with the huge explosion, the stumps and broken bones were blown up all over the sky. The most brutal side of the war was completely embodied at this time, after all, the lethality of mortars and rockets is not as good as that of heavy machine guns, their explosive power is actually not strong, the direct explosion range is at most a few square meters, and the shrapnel killing area is only a few tens of square meters, but they have a common feature, that is, they can create a casualty rate on a large scale.

In the event of war, the most unbearable thing for an army is not how many people are killed, but how many people are wounded. The disability rate of wounded soldiers in the war is very high, the wounded soldiers cannot immediately go into battle, and additional soldiers need to be assigned to take care of them, once the rescue cannot keep up, it will cause widespread death, and most importantly, the screams of the wounded soldiers can significantly weaken their morale.

After a few rounds of shelling, the battlefield was in shambles, everywhere were all parts of the body blown away by the shells, blood filled every corner of the battlefield, and the heavy smell of blood even overshadowed the smell of gunsmoke, making people feel faintly disgusting.

The Allied soldiers all lay on the ground, and when the artillery fire was over, they raised their heads and looked at the wailing comrades around them, the compatriots who had lost their lives, and tears instantly flowed from their eyes. They are unwilling, as the troops assigned to the front line, they are the well-deserved elite of the alliance, if it weren't for the other party's sneak attack, if it wasn't for the other party to take advantage of their unpreparedness and directly beat them up, if they really did it, then the result might be the same thing.

However, war is war, this is not child's play, where do so many ifs come from? I don't know who it started, one by one the soldiers put down their weapons and squatted on the ground with their heads in their hands. This battle can't be fought, all the commanding heights are controlled by the opponent's heavy firepower, the entire camp is within their strike range, if there is another strafing shot, then how many of them can survive, no one knows.

It's just that their hearts are very aggrieved, and they lost the war without firing a shot, and they really want to commit suicide in this battle.