On March 6, 1770, the fourth day of Lawrence's arrival in Bonifacio.

On the outskirts of Bonifacio, on a plain with a wide view, I saw more than 20 people lined up, calmly holding the muskets in their hands, aiming at the target placed in the distance, and firing round after round of volleys.

Of these, with the exception of the patrols brought by Lawrence from Ajaccio, they were all selected from the soldiers of the former Fourth Battalion, and were the most adept veterans in the use of muskets.

Although Lawrence decided to put the rifle into combat in this campaign, it does not mean that Lawrence is ready to fully disclose this new weapon.

Until he was able to mass-produce rifles, Lawrence was not prepared to give up this huge military advantage in his hands.

Therefore, the soldiers selected here are also selected by Lawrence himself, and his most loyal subordinates are to prevent the leakage of secrets.

"Ahem."

After a volley, Lawrence reached out to disperse the white smoke in front of him, choked and coughed twice, and asked Major Trefali beside him:

"Major, how's the training going?"

Major Trefarley squinted, walked some distance forward, looked at the placed target, turned back and shouted:

"It's not bad, there is no difference between these guns and smoothbore guns in terms of how to use them, and after a few days of shooting training, the hit rate has increased very quickly."

Lawrence nodded, turned his head and told the soldiers to stop training and rest in place for a while.

"But then again, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte."

Trevary walked up to Lawrence and whispered:

"I still don't think these 20 people can have any effect, even if they hit every shot, after a battle, they will kill and injure 300 enemies at most, and this is when they have no casualties."

Lawrence sat cross-legged on the spot, shook his head and said:

"They don't need to kill 300 people, as long as they can kill 300 people, our army will be able to win."

"Thirty people? How can it be?! ”

Major Trefali was full of suspicion, and he hurriedly sat down next to Lawrence, and asked repeatedly:

"Thirty men is only one percent of the size of the enemy's army, why do you say that?"

In Major Trefali's eyes, if all soldiers were equipped with rifles, they could use line tactics at greater distances, allowing them to fire a few more rounds before the enemy approached, giving them an advantage.

Therefore, for the mere twenty or so rifles, Major Trefali really did not think that it had any effect.

Lawrence glanced at Major Trevally and sighed slightly, he also knew that Major Trevary had the limitations of his time.

As a man who had used line tactics for most of his life, it was difficult for Major Trefley to break away from this thinking on his own.

So, Lawrence stretched out his hand and pointed to the rifles in the hands of the soldiers, and said slowly:

"Then what if these thirty people are the commander, deputy commander, herald, and snare drummer of each array?"

"This...!"

Major Trefali listened to Lawrence in amazement, and watched the rifles in the hands of the soldiers.

In any case, as a battle-hardened soldier, Major Trefali quickly understood what Lawrence meant.

In line tactics, soldiers on both sides face each other directly exposed to each other's guns, and the distance between the two sides is only a few tens of meters.

The psychological pressure on ordinary soldiers caused by such tactics is extremely enormous, and few people can remain calm when they are pointed at dozens of muskets.

As a result, the commander of each array had to be at the forefront of the battle to stabilize morale and deter deserters.

Of course, these commanders will not be directly on the front line of the firefight, and they will retreat behind their own soldiers as cover after the exchange of fire has begun.

In shots from smoothbore guns, such human cover is already relatively safe, and although the probability of officers being hit by stray bullets exists, it is much lower than the probability of ordinary soldiers being killed.

However, when Major Trefali thought of this, he subconsciously swallowed his saliva:

Under the accurate fire of these rifles, the enemy officers and heralds who were no more than a few dozen yards away were like targets.

And most of the time it's not even a moving target.

And once the enemy's command system is in disarray, such consequences can be known to Major Trefali without even thinking about it.

Lawrence glanced at Major Trefarly, and from his distracted expression, Lawrence knew he understood what he meant.

Standing up and patting the dirt on his body, Lawrence was about to continue to direct the soldiers to train, but he saw a figure running towards him not far away.

Lawrence didn't know who came, but judging by the uniform on his body, he was supposed to be a soldier of the Southern Legion.

As soon as he ran in front of Lawrence, he was so tired that he couldn't straighten up, and he gasped and said:

"Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte, I can count on finding you, Colonel Silva wants to see you, it's very urgent."

"Urgent?"

Lawrence exchanged glances with Major Trevfary and nodded to each other, and Major Trevary organized the soldiers back to the camp, and Lawrence followed the soldiers to meet Colonel Silva.

......

Before arriving at the fortress where Colonel Silva lived, Lawrence noticed an anomaly in Bonifacio.

I saw that the streets were full of soldiers coming and going, and the figures were in a hurry. They all carried wooden boxes of various sizes on their shoulders, and seemed to be hurrying to carry something.

Even in the bay north of the city, several Corsican-flagged schooners are busy loading their cargo and preparing to leave.

When Lawrence saw Colonel Silva again, his room was much simpler than it had been a few days before, with a wooden table and a few chairs left.

The papers on the table and the wall ornaments, including his own personal belongings, had been packed and shipped from here.

"Colonel Silva, what's going on now?"

Lawrence didn't sit down, but leaned directly on Colonel Silva's desk and asked.

Colonel Silva stood in front of the window, with his back to Lawrence, and said in a flat tone:

"The Sardinian army has landed in southern Corsica and, as we expected, their first target is none other than Bonifacio."

"What about the city?" Lawrence frowned and asked:

"You transferred all the supplies out?"

Colonel Silva turned half of his body, nodded at Lawrence, and said:

"Most of the city's supplies would be transferred to Ajaccio by a small force to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. The rest of the troops will take the initiative to meet the Sardinian army. ”

Lawrence nodded silently and did not speak, thinking that this Colonel Silva had exhausted all means in order to prevent himself from staying to defend the city, and directly transferred all the supplies in the city.

Seeing that Lawrence did not respond, Colonel Silva continued:

"I'm ready to attack tomorrow, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte, coordinate your troops."

"I see."

Lawrence didn't talk nonsense, gave a simple salute, and then turned and left the fortress.

Staring at Lawrence's back and disappearing into the stairwell, Colonel Silva couldn't help but lick his lips and said to himself greedily with a greedy face:

"Don't blame me, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte, General Poly has given me an Englishman's title, and even if General Poly doesn't say it, I won't let you affect the signing of the treaty."

With that, Colonel Silva turned to look out the window again, after all, he had been stationed here for several years, and now he was going to say goodbye to Bonifacio and take his soldiers to die, which also made Colonel Silva feel a little sad.

However, Colonel Silva immediately shook his head self-deprecatingly, and muttered:

"What am I thinking, who cares in this poor and remote place, when the title is in hand, I will go directly to London and receive an annuity as a nobleman. Corsica, Corsicans, oh, who are rare. ”