A real army is a cold killing machine.

It shouldn't have a temperature, and it shouldn't have any other goal than to kill people.

Compared to the heart-wrenching battle in Turkey Ridge, tonight's battle was colder and quieter.

The losers are quietly dying, and the winners are quietly reaping.

The sound of bullets flying everywhere only made the battlefield even quieter.

Until the bright moon in the sky finally appeared again, illuminating the earth brightly.

Only then did the turtledove realize that he had led his team back to the place where he had begun to flee!

……

The watermill took his men and horses and surrounded a group of white soldiers in the middle.

Turtledoves are roughly counted, and there are at least 100 people!

I couldn't help but feel a chill in my heart, and my back ridge was chilled!

The enemy is so strong, I don't know what kind of shit luck I took tonight, and I turned defeat into victory like this?

Even if he killed all the way himself, there were so many enemies captured here?

At this time, the group of white captives all raised their hands in the air, and there were no guns in their hands.

In the miserable white moonlight, they all looked at the Indian line that was approaching them.

I don't know who made the first sound:

"Sir, we surrender!"

"Yes, we surrendered, and we didn't kill the prisoners!"

"Yes, you can't kill prisoners!"

The turtledove stopped.

As he stopped, the line of troops on his side surged forward only one step before coming to a halt.

"Kacha!"

This pause actually silenced the white captives who were already in a clamor in front of them!

Even this once-'invincible' white army, how could it have seen such a uniform tactical move?

……

The North American militia in the 19th century can be said to be very powerful, because on this continent, the army with steel and gunpowder is simply a dimensionality reduction blow to the Indians.

But to say how good their training is is complete!

The North American militia originally appeared as a private armed force, and if it was still in the era of cold weapons, there was a considerable probability that there would be one dock fort after another on the North American continent, and finally form one small feudal country after another, ushering in the 'Warring States Era' in North America.

But with the advent of thermal weapons and the Industrial Revolution, no powerful force can afford to feed a modern army that can protect itself.

The so-called 'when the cannon goes off, the gold is ten thousand taels', the capitalists can spend other people's money, and if they want to pay their own money to support the army, it is simply their lives!

As a result, the militia demanded money from the federal government and the state government in the name of 'protecting the territory and the people', and finally formed a complex military interest group.

The famous 'Potomac Legion', which served both the North and the South during the Civil War, fought with his left hand and his right hand, and he didn't know what he was fighting!

This routine has been extended to two hundred years later, when the 'militia' has of course become a regular army, and of course the training has kept up - $20,000 a goat, $400,000 a toilet, so that under the conditions of excellent training, even a dog can be trained to speak human words!

The white army in front of you, if you want to talk about the fighting quality, it is definitely strong!

But the level of training is far from even the level of the Infantry Drill Code.

In the same period, the real infantry elite was still in Europe, in France, in Prussia, in Russia...... Even in Japan. In short, it is not the turn of the United States in any case.

On the other hand, on the side of the turtledove tribe, it is another picture of the opposite.

Training...... The only thing they can do is train.

A group of poorly dressed Indian soldiers, who could not even tell the difference between left and right, with fake guns made of twigs in their hands, were meticulously doing tactical training every day under the instruction of Anderson according to the "Infantry Drill Code".

Train on sunny days and train on rainy days.

I will train when I am full, and I will train when I am hungry.

None of these Indian soldiers asked what was the point of such training, and none of them avoided it because they wanted to be lazy.

Because each and every one of them has seen the power of the white army with his own eyes!

Although they boasted of their prowess, none of them thought that their bows and arrows would be faster than the muskets of the white men!

When he was in the tribe, the turtledove would sit in his house every day and watch them through the window.

It's like looking at a small town who is obviously not very talented, but is still working hard to brush up on the questions.

The reason why they work so hard is not because of anything else, but because they understand that this is the only way for them to change their fate.

Training! Training! Training......

I watched it every day, watched it every day, and watched it too much, and the turtledove also felt that these Indian idiots might not be hopeless!

The first machines of the Indians were forged from their flesh and blood.

……

"Kacha!"

The sound of more than fifty pairs of legs together tugging at the turtledove's heartstrings.

His gaze slanted.

No one had issued an order, but in his peripheral vision, more than fifty guns were held in order.

He saw the tears flowing from the eyes of the soldier closest to him, glistening in the white moonlight. But this did not affect the soldier's hands with the gun, and the muzzle of his hand did not move, and a mosquito landed on the wing of his nose.

This scene is familiar.

In Turtledove's memory, it was when he was very young, when he clung to his father's legs and looked at the rows of white soldiers opposite. That's how white soldiers pointed their guns at themselves.

Now this scene is repeated, but he is leading people, holding guns, and facing a group of shivering white soldiers.

The turtledove seemed to hear his father shouting behind him again: "Run! Turtle dove! Run! Run! ”

The turtledove's nose was so sour that it couldn't even breathe—

Something seemed to be pressing tightly on his chest, someone covered his mouth and nose with his hand, and a woman's hoarse voice: "Turtledove, don't make a sound!" Don't cry! Just dodge! Don't make a sound......"

Oh, the turtledove remembered, it was his mother's voice!

That time they hid in a bush and saw white soldiers stripping a man to a lake of flesh in front of them.

Turtledove didn't know why she suddenly remembered so much.

Many of the memories of his childhood are already in his mind, and his body has formed an instinctive reaction to stop remembering these things.

Only in ...... When my heart is surging, I will remember.

He has a family, a father who used his body to block bullets for him, a mother who pushed him hard when he fell off a cliff, and a tribe where people enjoy the same pot of wild vegetable soup......

The turtledove froze in place for a long time, neither giving the order to shoot nor to put it down.

Until a white captive fell to his knees as the Indians had surrendered, and said to him in the Apache language, which he was not very proficient in:

"Dear Mr. Chief, under the Treaty of Alamosa, white soldiers should have the right to be treated with respect and kindness, even if they are captured......"