Chapter 174: Formidable Foe

The forty-meter distance was merely a dozen short seconds for the dismounted Cuirassiers sprinting at full effort. But these dozen seconds felt as long as a century to both the offense and defense.

“Open fire! Fire at Will! Kill them all for me!” The Sergeant commanding the exterior alert unit’s retreat yelled from behind the earthen bank, firing his weapon while shouting at the soldiers beside him.

Everyone’s eyes were bloodshot, fixed intensely on the Gallic officer waving his saber and leading the charge.

“Da-da-da-da!”

“Bang-bang-bang!”

Besides the non-stop Light Machine Guns, MP14 Submachine Guns and Gew.98 Rifles fired continuously, spraying bullets like hail onto the charging Cuirassiers on foot.

However, that damned Enchanted Cuirass once again displayed its astonishing defensive power. Colonel Molière, charging at the very front, was hit multiple times. His body lurched several times, and a blue light flashed repeatedly on his chest armor, but he merely groaned a few times. Though his steps momentarily faltered, he stubbornly charged forward.

The 9mm pistol rounds from the submachine guns were completely ineffective against these Cuirassiers unless they struck the head or unprotected limbs.

The close-quarters exchange of fire was bloody and brutal.

A Cuirassier roared and rushed up to the earthen bank. Just as he swung his saber and prepared to leap into the trench, a young Saxon soldier instinctively raised his submachine gun and emptied the entire magazine into his chest.

“Da-da-da!”

The bullets sparked a rapid succession of blue lights on the cavalryman’s Cuirass, but failed to stop him in the slightest. The cavalryman grinned savagely and brought his saber down fiercely.

“Splat!”

Blood splattered. The young soldier fell limply, not even having time to scream. But the next second, a veteran beside him roared and fired his Gew.98 Rifle almost point-blank at the Cuirassier’s neck. The 7.92mm rifle round instantly tore through his unprotected throat, the massive kinetic energy snapping his head backward.

Such scenes played out repeatedly along the front line. Colonel Molière finally reached the position. He kicked away a Saxon soldier attempting to block him with a bayonet, then pressed the muzzle of his revolver against another soldier’s head and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

“Bang!”

Brains and blood splattered across his face, but he ignored it, furiously swinging his saber and hacking at the surrounding enemies. He fought like a wounded lion, displaying astonishing combat power in his final moments.

But one man’s strength is limited. Just as he cut down the third soldier, three or four dark muzzles aimed at him simultaneously.

“Da-da-da-da!”

The dense rain of fire from the submachine guns instantly enveloped him. The blue light of his Enchanted Cuirass flickered a few times, then finally extinguished completely.

“For… Gaul.”

Colonel Molière’s body fell heavily backward, his eyes still burning with infinite rage and unwillingness.

Meanwhile, the battle on the other flank also reached a climax. Captain Léo led his Dragoons charging into the village, attempting to attack the Saxon alert unit from the rear. Captain Marchand’s Dragoons also arrived at the riverbank and linked up with Captain Lafontaine’s Dragoon Squadron. They raised their long lances, preparing to deliver a fatal blow from the flank/rear to the Saxon infantry who were already fighting desperately.

Across the battlefield, the Gallic Cavalry had established an absolute numerical advantage and encirclement of the two Saxon infantry platoons of the Instruction Assault Battalion. The balance of victory seemed to have decisively tipped in their favor.

North of Charleroi City, at the Artillery Position.

The Battalion Commander of the Horse Artillery Battalion, who had just hung up the phone, felt utterly overwhelmed. The Artillery Position they had chosen was relatively high, offering a clear view of both flanks of the city, and he had clearly seen the Gallic Cavalry’s movements on the left flank. Charleroi City is about 5-6 kilometers long from west to east, and the Artillery Position was about 4 kilometers from the city’s flanks, placing it perfectly within the firing range of the FK.96n/A 77mm Field Gun.

But the problem was that his battalion had only arrived this morning. They hadn’t had time to calibrate the guns or calculate the firing tables. Nevertheless, he knew they had to provide fire support to their allies immediately. The village the Dragoons were approaching, and the surrounding area, were the most suitable targets for fire, and these fixed targets were better suited for emergency calibration.

“We can’t worry about that now!” The Field Artillery commander shouted to his highest-skilled artillery crew. “Gun No. 1! Target the village outside the city! Fire!”

“Boom!”

A 77mm Field Gun roared, and a high-explosive shell whistled through the sky. The Artillery Commander raised his binoculars, staring intensely at the shell’s point of impact.

A few seconds later, a fiery explosion, mixed with black smoke, erupted violently on the edge of the distant village.

“Close! Correct direction [—] distance plus [—]!” The commander quickly shouted a string of numbers. “Open fire immediately once adjusted!”

The Gunners rapidly adjusted the gun’s firing parameters, then fired again.

“Boom!”

Another shell flew out. This time, the shell landed precisely on a stone building on the village edge, and the blast wave instantly demolished it.

“Good! Increase distance by [—]!” The Artillery Commander’s spirit lifted. “All gun crews! Target the village! Five salvoes! Fire!”

“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!”

Instantly, twelve 77mm Field Guns simultaneously unleashed a thunderous roar. Shells, like the scythes of death, whistled across the sky, raining down upon the small village with sharp screeches!

Inside the village, Captain Léo was commanding his Dragoons, using houses and broken walls for cover, to advance to a position where they could attack the Saxon soldiers.

Just as he was preparing to organize an assault, a sharp, spine-tingling whistle, growing rapidly from distant to near, suddenly enveloped the entire village.

“Artillery barrage! Take cover!”

Léo’s face instantly turned ashen. He instinctively dove toward a nearby earthen wall.

The moment the words left his mouth, a series of violent explosions erupted inside the village!

“Boom! Rumble!”

The ground seemed to shake. The rain of twelve 77mm high-explosive shells instantly covered the small village, transforming it into a fiery inferno.

Léo felt as if he had been slammed to the ground by an invisible giant hand. Dust and debris kicked up by the blast wave rained down on him, leaving him dazed, with only a deafening roar in his ears. He lay prone, mouth open, clutching his head, feeling the world spin around him.

The explosions continued, wave after wave. The stone houses were torn apart and collapsed like structures made of paper. Burning beams and debris splattered everywhere. Léo’s Dragoons were completely stunned. One moment they were preparing to ambush the enemy from the rear, the next they were hit by this sudden, devastating artillery fire, suffering heavy casualties.

Some soldiers were directly blown away by the blast, their bodies torn to shreds in mid-air, while others were buried by collapsing houses, unable even to cry for help.

Léo didn’t know how long the shelling lasted; it felt like an entire century. When the explosions finally ceased, he shakily crawled to his feet. The sight before him was like falling into an ice pit.

The entire village had been reduced to ruins, with rubble and burning flames everywhere. His subordinates lay strewn about the ground. Many were covered in thick dust, motionless, their fates unknown. Their attack, which hadn’t even truly begun, had been completely shattered by this fire raining down from the sky.

“How is this possible… How could they have artillery? Why did they run in the first place…” Captain Léo murmured, his eyes filled with despair and confusion.

If they had artillery support, they could have attacked his concealed position in the woods when he was first reconnoitering the village. Why wait until now? Captain Léo would likely never know that the Saxon artillery had only arrived an hour earlier than they had and were completely unprepared. The barrage had been merely an ‘extraordinary display’ born of emergency. But sometimes, it is precisely these coincidences that make up bizarre battle records.

Meanwhile, the other two Dragoon Squadrons, which had maneuvered along the riverbank to envelop the Saxon infantry’s rear, suffered the same terrible fate.

After completing five salvoes on the village, the Artillery Battalion Commander immediately observed the Dragoons flanking along the riverbank through his binoculars, internally predicting their trajectory based on their speed. After roughly calculating the distance, he ordered the gun crew to pivot toward the open area by the river.

Just as Captain Lafontaine and Captain Marchand linked up, and the Dragoons deployed their formation, lowered their lances, and launched their final charge, the whistle of death descended again.

The shells landed with extreme precision, right along their line of advance. Explosions erupted in succession within the cavalry ranks, men and horses tumbling, blood and flesh flying everywhere. The once neat charging formation was instantly blown to smithereens. The cavalrymen, caught on the open riverbank, had nowhere to hide, becoming perfect targets for the artillery shells.

Panic spread through the unit like a plague.

“Retreat! Retreat immediately!”

Someone shouted, and the entire unit instantly collapsed. The cavalrymen spun their horses around and fled frantically in other directions, completely lacking the fierce momentum they had arrived with. This sudden artillery barrage not only completely shattered the Dragoons’ attack but also bought precious breathing room for the two Saxon infantry platoons who were trapped and on the verge of annihilation on the front line.

“Well done! That’s our artillery!” The Sergeant commanding the security detachment looked at the explosions rising from the village and the riverbank, so excited he nearly jumped. He glanced at the position ahead. The dismounted Cuirassiers had been largely defeated, with only a few stragglers still putting up a final resistance. But his platoon’s ammunition was also running dangerously low.

“Grenades! One last round of grenades! Throw them and retreat!” The Sergeant unclipped two grenades from his belt, pulled the pins, and threw them fiercely toward the few remaining enemies ahead.

“Boom! Boom!”

In the smoke of the explosion, he grabbed the Machine Gunner beside him.

“Retreat! Quick! Alternate cover! Run back to the city!”

(End of this Chapter)