Since the encirclement of the French army at Le Mans, the road leading to Paris from the west has been opened, and the road is unobstructed, except for the Germans marching on it, only the transport troops that supply them.

The French defense line leaked everywhere, and the various units had no contact at all.

However, even in such harsh conditions, the encircled French did not give up their resistance, and they relied on the ring fortifications left by the enemy, and reinforced them again, so that they could delay a little longer.

But no matter how much it drags on, it is useless, Le Mans is not enough to control the situation of the war, and France will eventually lose, which is already predestined, since they advocated the abandonment of Russia......

So they tried their best to finally plan to break out, regardless of casualties, how many could rush out, even if they took millions of lives for this, only a dozen people could get out in the end, and that was not at their expense.

Knowing that their strength alone would not be enough to open the door to survival, they had to flip through the broken glass in the cracked walls.

The shattered glass on the wall was like a big chainsaw, so sharp that anyone who tried to pass through it would probably not be able to get out of it.

But there is no other way, waiting here is a starving fate, going out to fight is also a battle death, hanging by the glass will die sooner or later, it is better to be bullet open, the glory of death.

It just so happened that their commander had promised to come to their aid not long ago, but it was still up to be seen whether they would be able to get out.

On this night, the Germans crouching in the trenches around Le Mans, if you look closely, or if you feel it with your heart, you will perceive that they are not in the trenches, but standing outside the town, outside the city called "Inferno".

The only difference between this town and ordinary cities is that it is dilapidated to the point of abstraction, and it is surrounded by smoke that makes it impossible to see what it is, even if the town really no longer exists.

In the two highest buildings, two of them were like craters, pierced straight through, and the sun's rays shone straight through, reflecting the two holes as if they were human eyes, staring at the earth without blinking; There is also an invisible towering structure in the middle, which forms the gloomy nose bridge.

Pale and godless eyes, a black and green background, a white and yellow human face; The white smoke and chlorine gas are intertwined, and it really feels like a dead corpse crawling out of a dead man's dung pit, but in all fairness, it should be said that it is a devil who crawled out of hell, a rectangular demon with eyebrows and no forehead, a bridge of the nose and no chin, and no pupils on his cheeks.

The ethereal and confused town is terrifying, as if there is a looming figure staring at them.

What happens when people feel like they're being watched by such ghostly people? Fear? Or is it exciting?

But the Germans reacted a little aggressively, feeling that it was not a big deal, and that it was impossible to thwart their eventual victory.

The so-called fear is nothing more than the war machine, and these war machines are what they use, so why be afraid?

Fear does not belong to the Germans, fear should be feared by the Germans, only those French will be afraid.

However, Kuster in the command was worried, and he looked at the dilapidated building as horribly as a human face, and his heart was full of mixed feelings.

"Tell them, don't stop the artillery, I have a hunch that they're coming."

He said to the officer beside him.

His health is getting worse and worse, and he is a little scared to see something, this is probably the last time he will go to the front line to command the battle, and the majesty of daring to lead a cavalry company to the enemy command is long gone, replaced by the cherishing of life, and the transformation into a representative of the conservatives.

This may also be the last few times he will fight, and he is no longer suitable for the brutal battlefield.

"Those French people are so romantic, they tear down their granaries and make human faces, I really don't know whether to scare us or themselves!"

The officer frowned and said with some disdain. But my heart was full of shock.

Kuster didn't react except nodding.

After a long silence, he spoke again and asked:

"Aren't those guys really going to jump off the wall?"

Custer wasn't sure what the French were trying to do, and so were the officers beside him, all of whom looked embarrassed. If it was in the past, he would never wait here, but directly lead his troops to go in and see clearly.

Now, however, he was unwilling to lose his life, even though hundreds of thousands of people had died, and he was not at ease if all the power was handed over to the Germans, and he had been in a very ambivalent state.

He wanted to end the war as soon as possible, out of love for the motherland and enthusiasm for the nation; But as a soldier, he knew that only endless wars could bring status.

He already had enough authority that if the war were to end, he would undoubtedly be the first of Austria-Hungary, and the ascent of the rest of the officers would be blocked; But his quest for power never ends, and he wants to fight even at the risk of being chased.

But now he didn't need to think about it, because the news from outside the window had already helped him make up his mind.

This terrifying sound can only be heard by the French artillery fire, except for the big rats.

Kuster hurriedly walked out of the headquarters and looked at the war-torn plains in front of him.

It was the final attack of the defeated French army, and these men, who were close to the end of the day, did not enjoy their last moments, but dared to counterattack them.

They may want to bloom the best moment of their lives, but it's September, and the season of flowers has long passed, and it's time to return to their roots.

The battlefield was filled with the tearing of machine guns, the roar of charges, the roar of artillery, and the helpless howls of people.

Listening to the sounds, most of the dead fell into the soft earth, not the concrete walls of the trenches, much to the relief of Kuster, who was constantly trembling in the back.

The fierce fighting lasted for four hours, and not a single Frenchman broke through the German blockade, anyway, there was not a single Frenchman in sight on Kuster's side, and they all fell dozens of meters in front of the trench.

When the gunfire finally stopped, and a few hundred meters away someone was heard cheering in German, and Kuster's taut strings broke suddenly, and he looked out of the sky and walked out of the position towards the tattered dirt where countless French troops had been buried.

Along the way, Couste stepped on the corpses of the Frenchman, but to be precise, he should have stepped on the body of his weak compatriots to stand so tall, taller than even the Alps.

Looking at the French who fell to the ground in various postures, Couster could not give birth to a trace of respect and sympathy, I am afraid that he is really no longer just a soldier.

After leaving, these French martyrs were buried in dung pits and used as fertilizer to nourish the land that had nurtured them for generations.

Everything is born out of dust, and everything will return to dust.