From the point of view of avoiding responsibility, the officer corps was more concerned about Frederick's life and death than Marshal Bazin, and in fact it was the same, because Bazin did not care at all whether Frederick was dead or alive The French army shelled for half an hour, projecting more than 300 tons of shells, and only stopped until the barrels were red, which not only succeeded in reducing the logistical burden, but also cut the high ground where Frederick was stationed by one centimeter, and the map had to be redrawn.

Bazin saw in his telescope satisfaction that after half an hour of a steel rainstorm, Frederick's camp had been bombed beyond recognition, not to mention the survival of humans and animals.

When the artillery stopped, the French even suspected that there was no need to sweep the battlefield, because the 300-ton shells had already drenched the high ground with all kinds of holes. In fact, until the defeat of Fran the Great, French artillery was still the leading firepower on the continent, firmly dominating the wars of this era. Everyone believed that there were only charred blood stains and buried stumps on the high ground.

But the marshal's order came down, and the first wing still had to advance honestly. The combat mission was assigned from the three division headquarters, and countless regiments formed a dense line of troops, like the tide of the mountains and mountains, surging towards the high ground layer by layer.

And the roaring steam tanks are like pitch-black reefs mixed in the tide. The vibration of the crawler crushing the ground can be transmitted for thousands of meters.

The second and third wings were ordered to carry out the covering mission and outflank them from the east and west flanks. Although the infantry is the mainstay, it advances slowly, so it needs to be coordinated and coordinated.

The vast plain, for the first time ever, was covered by layers of infantry lines.

Soon, the first wing had already advanced to the foot of the heights. It was trained to slow down, wait for both flanks to advance and outflank, encircle the high ground from three directions, and then rush up at the same time to sweep the endgame.

No matter how you look at it, it's a must-win war, and all that's left is garbage time, and there's no fun in commanding. So the commanders of the divisional headquarters are a little bored, after all, this era is the era of artillery.

"The second wing on the east side is already in place. Five kilometers away, two divisions on the second flank waved flags, and torches sparkled in the night.

"The third flank on the west side will be in position quickly due to rough terrain. "The troops on the west side are relatively denser, and they wave slightly different flags.

The lieutenant general commander of the first wing could not wait. He issued a banner announcing the beginning of the seizure of the high ground by the main attacking force.

After repeated defeats, the French army cherished this unprecedented victory so much that the formation they advanced was full of the ritual of a military parade. The nine private battalions of the 1st Infantry Division assembled in neat squares and marched in unison to the high ground to the melodious sound of military flutes and small drums, while the roaring steam tanks continued to overtake the rigorous private phalanx and pounce on the potholed high ground.

At this time, there was also a huge disagreement within the first wing. Because the artillery took the first credit, the remaining military merits were only a handful, so the credit for seizing the high ground became the only cake left, and it was coaxed by many regiment commanders. Each regiment took the initiative to ask for help, and strongly demanded to serve as the spearhead and the main attacker, which once made it very difficult for the lieutenant general to do.

After all, everyone has fought and retreated from abroad, and they have been aggrieved so far, and they have finally broken the kettle and won back a game, and each regiment needs to taste the sweetness to boost morale.

In the end, the lieutenant general had to divide the credit evenly, and he ordered nine regiments to line up in a line and advance to the high ground at the same time. Although this distribution will result in a lack of depth density in the formation, it is perfect to be able to level a bowl of water.

The French generals were veterans of officialdom. The philosophical proposition of how to reasonably distribute military merit in a victorious environment was handled by them as an art. At least the lieutenant general was triumphant.

As a result, there was fierce internal competition among the front-line troops, and even the scouts sent had to be exactly nine. Everyone is a descendant of the army, and they can't afford to lose anything.

The scouts were a hundred meters ahead of the troops and began to survey the devastated German camp. They saw that the remains of the tent and the wooden walls were in tatters, broken enough to make a huge bonfire, only wildfires that created a dim field of vision.

"Where are the living people?" said the 3rd Regiment Commander, who could no longer hold back, and asked the scout with a roar. Now, every living German soldier is precious, because wolves have more meat and less meat, and if they don't cut off a few German ears first, their comrades-in-arms will cut off the ears of the Germans.

Moreover, in the living German army, there are likely to be high-ranking generals, and once caught, they will be triple the merit.

"There are no more living people. The scout in front shouted. They don't need to speak flags anymore, and their communication is all about shouting.

The regimental commanders were visibly disappointed.

"But," the scout of the 1st Regiment hesitantly shouted two hundred meters away.

"But what?" 1 the regimental commander suddenly became excited.

"But there was no dead man in sight. The scout hesitated. It seems that even he himself can't believe his eyes.

None of the regimental commanders believed this. 1 The regiment commander was even more annoyed, and he began to greet the scout's high cousin parents in foul language: "It must be that you didn't search carefully! Look at the bottom of the floating soil, the stump is like wood after it is blackened, you can see it carefully!"

"Underneath the floating earth...... Only trophies, no stumps!Again, there are no stumps within 100 meters!" the scout's voice sharpened, and he clashed seriously with the regimental commander. This made him realize that something was wrong. Although he didn't know what was happening, the strangeness of the scene made his voice mixed with fear.

Suddenly, a burst of religious music filled the cold wind, and it carried a metallic indestructible heaviness, which made the indomitable will rush to the face. The holy light in the cold night is like Venus not extinguished, and the tragic lyrics of the Mass march approaching sporadically make the French army feel insignificant by steel, because the military song is the Germans marching

March of the Mass

Tension fills the air, and a big war is coming.

The mother slipped down tears, and the motherland was in danger.

The footsteps of the enemy could be heard in the distance, and the earth trembled.

The time has come to defend justice, and the blood is boiling.

Lightning tore through the night, and behold, the troops were advancing!

March of the Mass

The sharp-pitched lyrics gradually approached and became clear, and the French could even see the outline of the German formation floating in the night, like a majestic ghost ship floating in the angry sea. Then, with the chant as graceful as a song, the strong determination was like an iron curtain hanging over the army, intimidating the French army a kilometer away from retreating inch by inch, just because the German chant army was advancing step by step!

Frederick carried a marching band with him, and organized the left-wing elite into the Chorus Army. The patriotic fervor, the faith of the Holy See, and the mood of allegiance all made the enemy feel with fear the determination of the Sacred Psalm to march forward generously!

The unprecedentedly high fighting spirit of the French army was like a bent bamboo in a strong wind, on the verge of breaking. The nine regiment commanders almost lost their restraint and exchanged information one after another: "How is it possible? How can the Germans have such high morale!"