Under the light of the moon, the plains are dyed with the color of the red moon. Around the half-orc boy in a black military uniform, something more bright red than the red moonlight was sprinkled, and the smell of the evening breeze could not completely dispel it rushed straight to people's nostrils.

The barracks was awakened by the fierce gunfire, and in less than three minutes, all 300 hoplites directly under the crown prince entered a battle situation and surrounded Caspar tightly. Witnessing the tragic death of the robe, hundreds of pairs of eyes that almost erupted into fire glared at the young man.

Though they rushed forward at once, chopping up the half-orc boy with black skin, an ugly metal box, and two strange hammers stuck behind his back. But no one dared to act rashly until the officer gave the order.

Caspar calmly put a new magazine on his favorite gun, pulled the nose, and loaded it.

After taking a deep breath and filling the lobes of his lungs with the putrid stench of his internal organs and brain spindle, he reopened his eyes and emitted a deep green light.

The maneuver took 0.37 seconds, and in less than a thousandth of a second, the thick barrel was pointed at an archer. The muzzle of the gun jerked, stealthily aiming at Caspar's eyeball, turning into a miserable blood flower.

The officer who witnessed the scene raised his sword, the tip of which was pointed at the smiling abominable enemy, and a thunderous roar shook the night sky.

"Form a tortoiseshell formation!Forward!!"

Holding a one-man-high square shield, the soldiers quickly swarmed together, and a barrage of crossbow arrows followed.

Caspar dodged from under the arrow curtain and raised the muzzle of his gun again, the corners of his mouth twitched.

The hoplites with shields lined up in a neat phalanx, and the shields were lined up to form the city walls. The front, back, left, and right sides of the phalanx and the top of the head were all tightly covered, and the spears pierced through the gaps in the shields in all directions.

"Queue, forward!"

The leading officer shouted with pride, and with the monotonous and low drum beat, the soldiers who formed the array marched forward in unison. The walled city of mobile formations pressed down on Caspar.

With battlefield experience and instinct, the officers chose the most correct response.

From Caspar's action of changing magazines, they quickly understood that the mysterious weapon was a powerful weapon with an unimaginable rate of fire, and a formidable threat.

But that weapon can't kill people continuously, it has to be filled with something in stages. to continue to function - just like a repeater.

Got it. The officers immediately chose the strategy of dealing with the repeater crossbows - a frontal attack with tortoiseshell formations.

Perhaps the weapon would be strong enough to pierce the shield, but the officers believed that a phalanx of 100 men could rely on numbers to break through that distance of death.

After being killed at most thirty people. The mage who presses the formation in the back will unleash a support attack. to the end. The rampaging infantry will completely crush the arrogant wolf cub into a pulp.

They expected such a course of battle. For this, even if it is necessary to sacrifice some soldiers.

Cold mathematical logic, but war is inherently cruel. At the same time, it is the one that determines the outcome of the war. Nor has it ever been one or two advanced weapons.

As the great teacher of the proletarian revolution said, sometimes quantity is also a quality.

300 Charlemagne warriors in red pants, carrying shields and spears, marched fearlessly. Even the combination of the .45ACP and the long-barreled Mauser carbine was incredibly powerful, but it couldn't stop the death-seeking. Once again, it seems that the god of victory will favor them, who have an overwhelming numerical advantage.

That's fine, when advanced tactical concepts are paired with sufficiently advanced weapons, the numerical superiority will be overwhelmed by the qualitative disparity.

Caspar decided to give Charlemagne, who likes to charge with cold weapons, a good experience, which is called modern warfare.

With his left hand, he unhooked a few green orbs from the hem of his coat, and threw them with his teeth biting off the safety pin, the explosion of a fragmentation grenade and the screams overlapped, followed by several more gray canisters.

A flash of light much stronger than a fragmentation grenade erupted, and flaming phosphorus flames flew through the air like meteors, bathing the ranks of soldiers who had been blown open by the breaches. The moment splashed by the yellow-green sparks, the bravest warriors will also roll and let out a hoarse howl, and finally become a silent corpse.

White phosphorus smoke grenades.

In the name of smoke bombs, it is actually a weapon of mass destruction that the infantry and even some armored units are deeply afraid of. In addition to conventional explosives, the main fillers are white phosphorus and triethyl aluminum, which have an effective killing range of 23 meters. While a large amount of white smoke is produced in an instant, a high temperature of 2760°C is generated, and the continuous combustion time is 60 seconds.

In addition to the burning flames and high temperatures, white phosphorus and the smoke itself can be deadly. The hapless ones who get caught on Mars either become dried corpses or die of acute kidney failure. Inhalation of toxic smoke can burn the respiratory tract and cause suffocation. In some exercises, the grenadiers of the commandos threw one of these incendiary bombs at the shells of some light armored vehicles, which quickly roasted out the armored soldiers who did not want to come out.

Caspar, who was upwind, stared at the tragic situation in front of him, a hint of dissatisfaction on his face.

As a fan of large-caliber heavy firearms, Caspar prefers shells for 106.7mm chemical mortars. Whether it is a white phosphorus smoke incendiary bomb or a high-explosive bomb comparable to a 155mm grenade, the power is much greater than that of a white phosphorus smoke grenade. It's just that this rifled mortar shell has a special structure, which is not as easy to hold and throw as 81mm and 120mm mortar shells, and it is inconvenient to carry.

Finally, he still has other toys on him, enough to make a big fuss. Otherwise, he had to ask the General Staff to dispatch train guns to enjoy the superb scene of the 4.8t high-explosive grenade falling and blowing up the soldiers who were resisting with weapons along with the barracks, so that his wounded heart could get some comfort.

"What's the matter? Gentlemen of Humanity, aren't you coming? The enemy is right in front of you? Aren't you going to destroy the V.E Company?"

Caspar twirled like a dance, and slammed the trigger to the end.

A new round of victims fell, the heads of each corpse were blown out, and the tortoiseshell array was about to be unsustainable.

Woo -

The sound of long trumpets resounded across the battlefield, and the panicked soldiers regrouped and retreated to the rear.

I see, it's not an ordinary stealing wolf. ”

A deep voice echoed around him, but no speaker was to be seen. Caspar stopped shooting, and the figure disappeared from the spot in an instant.

"Stinky little ghost!

The calm ground rumbled like a great earthquake, followed by earth, grass, and rocks.

When the smoke cleared, the 30-meter-tall Gorem stood above the ground. A cold gaze appeared at Caspar in the distance. (To be continued.) For mobile phone users, please go to read. )

PS: Guess the small theater

Li Lin: Yesterday's winners are fans and Xiaoyeshen, congratulations to the two!

Nidhogg: Today's Question 1.300 Charlemagne Warriors in Red Pants - What is the original origin of this meme?(hint: this is XXX!)Question 2.What is the prototype of the 106.7mm chemical mortar?(hint: the caliber of the US imperialists' originality, there is no other semicolon.) Come on, everyone!