The regular line tactics of the Shulotel Legion have never been tested on the actual battlefield.

On the contrary, there was another Tonatiu regiment, which at the beginning of its establishment was famous for its line tactics.

Since the founding of White Rock City, the Oregon Legion in Fremont has been fighting almost every day, but these battles have basically not exceeded 100 people, and they are all small-scale and large-scale raids.

Neither Shulotel nor Tonatiu ever had the opportunity to fight the enemy in a frontal battle.

In the past three years, whether it is a turtledove or fifteen dollars, they have repeatedly pondered a question countless times: as White Rock City grows bigger and bigger, sooner or later, it will face a head-on collision with the American army. Can the Indians fight at all?

It's a question that sounds funny, but one that must be seriously considered. The blurted out answer is very pleasant, but if you get it wrong, it may be a lesson that can never be remedied.

Legion leaders like Blood Wolf, Waterwheel, and Red Cloud are actually nervous in their hearts.

They never showed any lack of self-confidence, but—

Tonatiu's waterwheels turned his legion into a heavy regiment that was particularly capable of being beaten and fearless of death, while tactically avoiding a head-on collision with the enemy's infantry line. It's nice to say "attack the enemy's shortcomings with your own strengths", but the real reason is that the watermill always has a plan for frontal combat, and before each battle, he will take it out and look at it, and then put it in his drawer every time.

The blood wolf of Shulotel is not as wild as a waterwheel, he moves erratically, his ideas are wild, and he often surprises. But there is one thing he also has in common with the waterwheel, that is, if he can sneak attack, he will sneak attack, if he can deceive, he will deceive, and try not to collide with the enemy head-on. The Blood Wolf never admitted that he was afraid of the whites, but he was actually the most thorough in learning the infantry tactics of the whites.

Including the Red Cloud Militia Regiment at Fort Laramie. Even though Red Cloud was a world-famous gladiator, three years ago his fame had gone straight to Turtledove, and even his fanatical followers had proposed to erect a statue of him on Mount Braque, but of course this proposal did not succeed, because the statue of Turtledove had not yet been found. However, in the Fort Laramie militia regiment, Hongyun did not teach his soldiers the art of gladiatorial fighting for a day, and the content was only monotonous upright, resting, and turning backwards......

……

Every six months, the residents of White Rock take part in rotational training with instructors from French and British who have paid a lot of money. These instructors often bring with them a group of their own assistants and family rolls, and even their own beloved kittens and dogs, as if otherwise they would appear unprofessional.

Many of the residents involved in the rotation were traders, workers, farmers and herders, and they may never go to war, but none of them were lazy.

Because they know that this is an opportunity that can change their fate.

Over the past three hundred years of displacement, the Indians' fear of whites has been etched into their bones.

They were afraid of everything white people, guns, cannons, fire, whips, clothes, cotton, water, bread, dollars, books...... Everything, everything, turned out to be a huge damage to them.

But now, white instructors are willing to hand over their skills to them.

Every Indian is like falling off a cliff and meeting an old man in a cave, who says that he is willing to hand over all his skills to him as long as he kowtows a few times...... "Uh, why don't I sing you another song?" Otherwise, it's a little uneasy!"

The white instructor is high-spirited and bright, and he wants nothing but gold.

This is often the case on the training pitch:

"3025, feet up!" The instructor took a stick in his hand and pumped it on the leg of one of the soldiers in the queue, and the soldier smiled and apologized.

"3407, don't pout your ass!" The instructor's assistant poked the ass of one of the soldiers in the queue, and the soldier was too ashamed to himself.

"2409, go get the gun up for two hours!" An Indian soldier would emerge from the procession, standing motionless for two hours with a musket in his hand.

Indians

There were so many names that the white instructors couldn't remember, so they all had a wooden sign with a number tied to their backs to make them easy to identify.

At both ends of the training ground, there is a row of scales carved on the ground, and even in the middle of the night, there are still people who consciously walk on it, with a wooden sign on their backs, and hold their heads high.

In order to form a musket queue, do not walk an extra centimeter, and do not walk a centimeter less.

Although I don't know what the use of this is, in the perception of the Indians, for three hundred years, the white people have relied on this means to drive them into a state of no return.

As deep as the fear of whites is, how much they love the tools of whites, even to the point of blind obedience.

……

Therefore, the line of the Indians lined up in front of Thomson, if you look at it from the outside, even with the most demanding eyes, you can't find anything wrong.

Thomson was also surprised to find that all the soldiers stopped and sniffed as they marched to a certain point—a small detail that bothered Thomson in a flash, but if he had known that it was because the French instructor who had trained the Indian soldier at the time was a rosacea, and that the Indian soldier had copied the instructor's movements, Thomson would have laughed from ear to ear.

But as the Indian line drew closer, Thomson knew that time was running out for him.

The drummer had an idea and struck each other with drumsticks, making a monotonous rhythmic sound, more like urging him, a veteran to make a decision quickly.

"Withdraw!"

Thomson yelled, turned and ran.

In the past battles with the Indians, it was not without escape. There is no psychological pressure on him. When people and dogs fight, what else do you pay attention to "glory and martial arts"?

As Thomson turned his head and ran, the soldiers who had already lined up suddenly turned around and ran, and a few even ran in front of Thomson.

"Jeroni, go and tell Graeme that Mr. Doge is besieged here, and tell him to come to his rescue!" Thomson shouted to the man in front of him.

The man just ran away, and didn't look back to answer Thomson.

"Ashley, go and tell Graeme that Mr. Governor is besieged here, and let him come to his rescue!" Thomson shouted again.

The man in front of him still didn't look back.

"Green, go and tell Graeme that the Governor and I have surrounded a group of Indians here, and tell him to come to war!"

The man in front of him turned to Thomson and said, "Run, Mr. Thomson, no one cares about anyone!" The Indians are about to catch up!"

Thomson looked back and saw that the group of Indians had already abandoned their lines, muskets in their hands, and screaming in their mouths, chasing after them.

The Indians were as nimble as monkeys, and when they touched a half-man-high rock, they rolled up and volleyed down without stopping.

Thomson was so desperate that he couldn't give birth to four legs.

Earlier, he had thought of hurrying to join Graeme so that he could gather his forces and come back to save the besieged Fremont, but at this time, he still had the heart to think about this, so he only scurried forward.

Compared to the tight infantry line of the Indians, he was more afraid of the Indian gang that was screaming while charging.