The visibility of the wilderness is less than 100 meters, and it seems to be uninhabited, and it is extremely quiet. The smoothbore spearmen of the www.biquge.info Vena Regiment formed a five-hundred-meter-long phalanx, and they were still in full array.

At one o'clock in the middle of the night, the roar of a six-pounder field gun suddenly exploded from a kilometer away; the sound of "dong dong dong" cannon was in a series of successions, the stream was blown up by stray bullets into the sky-high fountain, and some of the soldiers who were caught off guard were hit by the whistling shells, and half of their shoulders were forcibly knocked away by solid projectiles, and the remaining half of the people stood there and shook.

The most terrifying thing is that because the opponent's artillery positions are not far apart, the solid projectile flies in a similar flat trajectory, touches the ground horizontally, and then bounces up, like a ferocious ball, smashing into the crowd horizontally, smashing through the first body, and then smashing the two people behind like a string of sugar gourds.

In fact, the accuracy of the 6-pounder field gun was not high, and it was difficult to hit a thin three-row man-wall. But there are always people who are unlucky enough to be shot head-on: their fragile flesh is splashed by the whistling lead ball, and their white trench coats are torn ragged and scarlet by the shells -- the comrades around them can't react at all, and often only the dull sound of the flesh bombardment makes the eardrums itch, and then the hot smell of blood splashes all over the body, and when I turn my head to look, I find that there are jagged corpses lying on the ground.

In the roar of cannons, the turf in the wilderness exploded randomly, kicking up a meter of dirt. No one knew where the next shell would fall, but the panicked infantry only clenched their rifles and bowed their waists, while the desperate stretcher company was still trying to rescue, and the wounded soldiers who were still breathing were transported across the stream and back to the camp.

And Griffith, not afraid of death, rode his horse behind the thin line of infantry, roaring hoarsely:

"Don't panic! The opponent has only 10 guns at most, and the probability of hitting you is very small! All of them obeyed the order, merged three columns into two columns, maintained a formation, and prepared to advance! The artillery brigade has locked onto the enemy's artillery position and will immediately start counter-artillery fire!"

Griffith didn't brag. He arranged the ranks in three rows in advance, and the ranks in the open field were a slender straight line, the area of ammunition was greatly reduced, and it was difficult for the enemy's 6-pounder bronze cannon to hit the soldiers. Although this formation was very afraid of being outflanked by the light cavalry, it was effective in surviving artillery fire.

Because Griffith was the commander of the new Praetorian Army, he knew how to avoid casualties reasonably.

After a round of fire suppression, the figures in the night were longing, and a neat row of human walls emerged from the hills, slowly approaching. The sound of brass horns drifted in the pale night, and in spite of the sound of cannons, solemnly approached.

The infantry line of the Paris regiment finally appeared.

The sound of artillery, the sound of marching military music, the screams of soldiers, the burning sound of smoke screens, and countless sounds fighting in the noisy summer night were deafening and thrilling. Sparse shells cannot bring devastating damage, and only two rows of infantry in close contact can bring substantial casualties. The real battle has just begun.

The smoothbore gunners clenched their bayonet rifles.

Hoarse German officers shouted desperately, while passively beaten soldiers forced their composure in fear, maintaining a steady formation, praying that they would not be hit by shells. At this moment, the iron discipline overcame the fear of death and the unknown, because the crazy roar of the officer seemed to be confronting the distant cannon sound: "No shots without orders! Advance steadily, close to the enemy, discipline is like steel, victory is ours! All obey the order, march in unison!"

The shouting officer drew his saber and marched forward in unison with the soldiers around him, stepping on the drumbeat of military music, gritting his teeth in the artillery fire and gunsmoke.

The Parisian regiment on the opposite side had already fired, but the hit rate was a complete joke, the bullets were whistling, and only a sea of gunfire was heard, but it did not destroy the uniform formation of the German army. The perfect line formation continues to move forward in the beat of the drum, like an immobile titan approaching step by step, like an unstoppable wheel running over it.

The Parisian regiment seemed to panic, and the opposing officers allowed free fire, and the gunfire began to sound sporadically and continuously.

In the midst of the high-spirited drumbeat, the Germans continued to advance unmoved; from time to time someone was suddenly shot and fell down as suddenly as a tree cut down in the woods, but the soldiers behind bypassed the corpses and continued to advance without haste or slowness -- every soldier pointed his gun to the sky and clenched the handle of his gun tightly, because they strictly adhered to the discipline of steel, did not fire without orders, and saved the deadliest bullet for the moment of hand-to-hand combat!

Because they know that it is better to shoot the enemy from 200 meters away than to raise their heads and hit the moon in the sky, because the probability of hitting is the same.

Their lead bullets were filled from the head of the gun, first with gunpowder, then with lead bullets, and then pounded tightly with iron bars -- this determined three points: First, the lead bullets must be made smaller than the barrel of the gun, otherwise they could not be filled, so when the gun was fired, the lead bullets also flew out of the barrel with a bump, and they did not know where they would fly, and if they did not shoot in the face, they would not hit anyone at all, and if they did not shoot in a group, they would not hit anyone at all. Second, the reload must stand in place, hold the barrel of the gun, use gravity to pour gunpowder, stuff lead bullets, and then pound it tightly with a one-meter-long iron bar. This is not the most devastating, the most devastating thing is that if you pour too much gunpowder, you will explode, and if you pour less, you will be dumb, and the cumbersome operation will catch up with the chemists to do experiments, and you have to stand up all the way to complete it. Third, you can't shoot indiscriminately, otherwise it will take half a minute to reload.

Therefore, a bullet is very precious, and it must be hit again, and only if you hit it will not lose, because then you can rush up and fight the bayonet.

Therefore, even if the German soldiers were shot, constantly attrition and wounded, the rest of the men would step on the corpses of their comrades, continue to advance in an orderly manner, maintain a dense horizontal formation, strive to approach the enemy within 60 meters, and then fire a volley, knocking the enemy on his back in one breath.

Even if the gunfire continued to sound in the distance, even if the comrades fell to the ground from time to time, as long as the drumbeat of the military music was still following, the 5,000 German soldiers overcame the fear of being shot, forbade free fire, and continued the death march in the rain of bullets.

In the distance, on the hills, stands the Parisian officer corps. Looking at the German army formation, which was constantly attrition and approaching step by step, Isaac's face turned blue, and he turned back to the commander next to him: "Why are they not afraid of death?"

"We are facing perhaps the most powerful army of the century. The commander gazed worriedly at the distant position: "In order to maximize the advantage of reloading, I have allowed free design, killing and wounding hundreds of enemies - but I am worried about one situation. ”

"What's the situation?"

"I'm worried about the collapse of the ranks, Your Excellency," the commander of the army was uneasy, "In your words, the health of an army is not measured by numbers, Your Excellency. The amount of blood of an army is measured by discipline. A well-disciplined army, with more than half of the casualties, still insists on fighting, then it is still a complete army. When the army is badly disciplined, with more than a tenth of the casualties, the soldiers begin to turn and flee: then the army is finished. For the army, the rout is like death, the end. The existence of discipline is the only criterion for judging the birth, old age, sickness and death of the army. ”

Isaac felt that something was wrong, he had a vague impression of this theory, but he couldn't remember it clearly. It was only at the end of the matter that he discovered his blind spot in knowledge, which made Isaac's heart tremble. He hurriedly asked the commander: "Before the fire was received, the Germans fell by hundreds of people, do you think we will lose?"

Before he finished speaking, the military music in the distance suddenly stopped, as if a string had broken, and time stood still at this moment.

Because the silhouette of the German soldiers in the night was incomparably clear, they wore gorgeous down top hats, handsome snow-white tuxedo trench coats, the majesty of the crosses crossed with the staggered armed belts on their chests, and the long leather boots on their feet, "Bang, Bang!" and "Bang!"

"Wow!" "Wow!" "Wow!" The sleeves of the three-wheeled shirts sounded, and the dense German soldiers were already brushing their guns and aiming at them, and the slender muzzles of their guns were like a jagged wood.

From the sky, the German infantry line was only 60 meters away from the French infantry, and the two parallel lines, one white and one blue, stretched for several hundred meters, while the French troops were mostly scrambling to reload and fire sporadically.

Occasionally, the German soldiers fell abruptly, and a dazzling red flower spread from their white trench coats.

From not being able to see the outline of the Paris legion to advancing to being able to see the French army's reloading action, the German army advanced hundreds of meters like a military parade in a hail of bullets. It was a grand march to the face of death, and even if the officer was hit, the team would march calmly, because everyone remembered the slogan: only discipline can lead to victory.

When the grieving German regiments aimed at the enemy at a few feet away, they could see that they were panicking to reload their ammunition - and the hectic picture seemed pitiful and futile.

The wounded officers waved their sabers and uttered the last syllable: "Fire!"

With the "crackling" burst of guns, all the muzzles of the guns erupted fire at the same time, and when the recoil pushed the crooked soldiers, the gunpowder smoke from the muzzles of the guns became a thick smoke screen in the wilderness, magnificent and magnificent.

The two armies were 60 meters apart, the crowd was extremely dense, this round of salvo fire seemed to be a hundred shots, guns to the flesh, the French army suddenly screamed in the sky, the face salvo "crackling" monstrous guns have not been extinguished, the sound of lead bullets bursting through the skin and flesh is "puff puff" sounded into a piece, playing the climax of the law of the battlefield.

At this moment, the front row of French troops bore the brunt of the blow, and they were beaten to the point that their skin and flesh were covered with blood, and a large area fell from side to side. The soldiers in the first row were all killed in an instant, and the French army seemed to have been skinned, and the second row of people suddenly appeared.

The soldiers in the second row only felt that the gunfire was like a storm crashing on the shore, and then a large area fell in the front row, revealing a wide field of vision, and saw a dense row of German gun muzzles, the muzzles of which were still floating with green smoke, and the bayonets were like a metal jungle.

It turns out that the visual impact of the occasional person who falls around him and the sudden fall of a large number of people around him are two completely different grades.

The Germans fired a volley to peel off a layer of skin from the French army, and then gave an order, holding a bayonet, shouting "Long live the president", like a big wave sweeping, began to roar and charge.

The French soldiers in the second row opened their eyes and instinctively thought as they clutched their guns, the front row was dead, and it was my turn to be next.

They staggered back two steps and instinctively raised their guns to fight back - but most were still loaded. The sporadic bullets are like hitting the big waves, not only do they go and there is no return, but they can't stop the big waves from hitting them at all.

The French used breech-loading rifles, which were quickly reloaded. They struggled to reload their bullets, but they missed, and the roaring German bayonets were already in sight.

In an instant, the choice between life and death was in front of us: if you stood still, you would die, because everyone began to stagger backwards, and if you retreated with the current, you might survive, because you only had to run faster than your comrades.

The French began to stagger backwards, then quickly retreated, then turned and ran, then ran faster and faster, and finally lost their rifles to take advantage of the sprint, and successfully opened up the distance between them and their short-legged comrades.

The slower-running French were overtaken by the charging Germans and drowned in a sea of bayonets.

Countless new rifles with superior performance were thrown into the wilderness. Most of the butts are also engraved with the proud name of Flangel: Chasport 1855.

The Chasport 1855 breech-loading firing pin concept rifle, with its long range, high muzzle velocity, and fast reloading, killed hundreds of Germans in just a few minutes.

Then they were thrown to the ground.

When the Germans picked up the gun and sold it, the advertising slogan was extremely tempting: the Paris rifle, almost brand new, had only been thrown to the ground once.

Fran the Great's painstakingly crafted superiority in equipment failed to save the Parisian legions, whose discipline had collapsed. Countless good guns were thrown on the grass, and these excellent guns that were ahead of their time were trampled into the mud by the shouting Germans, like scrap metal.

Isaac closed his mouth open. He saw the blue Parisian army running in front, and the Germans with bright bayonets chasing behind, a duel of superiority, actually turned into a sprint race, making Isaac resent the commander of the crow's mouth, and it actually came true.