Looking at this reinforced battalion, nearly a thousand strong, Mo Lin couldn’t help grumbling inwardly that this was indeed a battalion-level unit of the mighty British.
The manpower of a single battalion was almost greater than Old Li’s early independent regiment.
And that also meant that the 1st Battalion on the high ground, already having suffered heavy losses, would next have to face an enemy several times their own number—and elites at that.
To be honest, the moment he saw this force, even Mo Lin felt a trace of despair.
The early-war tactic of armies from various countries committing whole battalions at a time had now become the most lethal advantage in numbers.
The cards in his hand had already been played out. That Vickers machine gun had only one last belt of ammunition left, nowhere near enough to reverse such a lopsided disparity in strength.
What should he do?
Mo Lin’s mind raced. After weighing things for a few seconds, he gritted his teeth.
“Turn the machine gun around!”
He pointed at the Britannian force that was assembling.
“Aim the muzzle at those Britannians! As for the Kingdom Army soldiers, leave them to the riflemen! Then trust our friendly forces on the high ground!”
Receiving Mo Lin’s order, the machine-gun team immediately fumbled to adjust the gun’s direction of fire.
The drumbeats of the grenadiers’ march grew denser and denser. At the foot of the slope, the two enemy forces had already finished assembling, and the dark mass of men began slowly moving upward.
“Listen up, all of you!”
Mo Lin’s voice was exceptionally grave as he instructed everyone:
“When the machine gun runs out of bullets, we’ll withdraw from the rear flank of the high ground! Don’t stupidly charge up to the top of the hill. That’s just making yourselves targets for the enemy!”
“Yes, platoon leader!”
At the foot of the slope, the Kingdom Army soldiers who had been reorganized were clearly still haunted by the flanking attack from just now.
Mo Lin could see clearly that as they advanced upward, they would from time to time cast wary glances toward the machine-gun position where his men had previously been.
But even in their dreams, they would never imagine that the machine gun which had harvested so many of their comrades’ lives had already quietly changed positions and was now aiming at their allies from another angle.
Mo Lin had everyone lower their bodies as much as possible, using fallen tree trunks and shell craters to conceal themselves perfectly.
The enemy forces on both sides drew closer and closer.
Mo Lin’s heartbeat also followed the rhythm of those military drums, growing faster and faster.
In truth, he had no confidence either.
When he had been captured before, he had witnessed their own heavy-armored units resisting pistol rounds at close range.
So he was somewhat worried about just how much killing power the Vickers’ .303 rounds would have against those Britannian iron cans.
The drumbeats of the military music suddenly quickened, and the formations of the two enemy forces began to break into a trot.
At the top of the high ground, the surviving soldiers of the 1st Battalion had already begun sporadic firing, trying to slow the enemy offensive.
The Kingdom Army soldiers also raised their guns in a scattered, uneven return fire.
The time had come.
Mo Lin no longer hesitated at all.
“Fire!”
At his command, the silent temporary position was instantly drowned in gunfire.
“Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!”
The last of the Vickers heavy machine gun’s ammunition was poured out without reservation at this moment, turning into a deadly whip of fire that lashed fiercely at the ranks of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment.
On the other side, Platoon Sergeant Klaus and the others opened fire at the same time with more than twenty Gew.98 rifles.
Accurate bullets crossed a distance of less than two hundred meters and shot toward the Kingdom Army soldiers charging upward.
The Kingdom Army, which had only just been shattered once by the flanking fire of a heavy machine gun, once again suffered a familiar blow.
Although this time there were only a little over twenty rifles, and their killing efficiency was far inferior to before, that attack from the flank—one they could not effectively avoid—still threw their assault formation into chaos.
The soldiers at the front fell one after another, while those behind instinctively sought cover. The momentum of the entire unit’s charge stalled.
At the same time, gunfire erupted at the top of the high ground as well. Clearly, the other soldiers of the 1st Battalion had begun consciously cooperating with Mo Lin’s group to form “crossfire.”
However, what Mo Lin paid more attention to was the situation on the other side.
The machine-gun bullets struck the armor of the heavy-armored soldiers in the front ranks of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment, bursting into dense strings of sparks and ringing out with crisp clangs, forcing those heavy-armored soldiers to falter.
It worked!
Mo Lin was delighted, but very quickly, his heart rose into his throat again.
Because the killing efficiency was far too low.
Those heavy-armored units basically only staggered and fell after withstanding multiple direct hits from machine-gun rounds in succession.
Through his binoculars, Mo Lin even clearly saw a soldier wielding a two-handed greatsword. The armor plates on his chest forcibly withstood five or six bullets before finally shattering and deforming completely.
Only then did the machine-gun bullets fired at him manage to burrow into his body.
That level of damage was nothing more than a scratch to a force of nearly a thousand men.
After a brief disturbance, the soldiers of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment not only did not retreat, but instead quickened the pace of their charge.
The khaki-colored tide was bearing down on Mo Lin’s position with an unstoppable momentum.
“Machine gunner! Stop sweeping! Pick them off one by one! Aim specifically at those iron cans!”
Hearing Mo Lin’s words, the machine gunner immediately stopped swinging the gun left and right and began aiming at one heavy-armored soldier after another.
It was just that the rapidly shrinking ammunition belt also meant this attack could not last much longer.
However, at this desperate moment, a turn in the battle appeared in an unexpected way.
From the corner of his eye, Mo Lin caught sight of the system map. The unit marker representing the International Column’s “East Europa Brigade, 2nd Regiment, 1st Battalion” was rapidly closing in on his position.
Because the two sides had not been far apart to begin with, only about six hundred meters, these several hundred soldiers of the International Column appeared behind the flank of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment in the blink of an eye.
Immediately afterward, a clear, ringing bugle call sounded from that direction.
“Charge—!”
“Ura—!”
All kinds of earth-shaking battle cries followed.
This sudden change clearly caught the charging Britannians somewhat off guard.
They had no choice but to split off part of their forces and hastily turn around, attempting to meet this surprise force that had suddenly burst out.
That resounding charge call not only ignited the fighting spirit of the International Column volunteers, it also made the hot blood in Mo Lin’s chest boil completely.
“Rat-tat-tat-tat... click!”
The machine gunner finally fired the last round in the canvas belt.
“Second Lieutenant, are we still withdrawing?”
Platoon Sergeant Klaus asked the crucial question.
However, all the soldiers, including him, had actually already guessed the answer, and everyone’s hands moved to the scabbards at their waists.
“Fix bayonets!”
Mo Lin nearly roared the order, and he himself deftly drew his bayonet and fitted it onto his rifle.
The cold sensation from his palm calmed his chaotic mind slightly.
It was obvious that the soldiers of the International Column had come to relieve Mo Lin and his men.
Under such circumstances, Mo Lin absolutely could not make the decision to abandon them and withdraw.
With the battle having reached this point, they could only stake everything on it.
“Charge!”
Without the slightest hesitation, Mo Lin was the first to leap up from behind cover.
Holding his bayoneted rifle, he led the twenty-odd soldiers remaining under him and launched a countercharge against the enemy below the slope.
When the distance between the two sides closed to around fifty meters, Mo Lin roared again.
“Grenadiers, throw!”
Several soldiers carrying spherical hand grenades immediately lit the fuses and, using all their strength, hurled those deadly lumps of iron out.
Because they held the advantage of higher ground, these grenades flew far beyond their usual distance, accurately landing among the front ranks of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A series of explosions rang out. The heavy-armored soldiers charging at the very front, along with the infantry behind them, were instantly blasted into chaos, men and horses thrown off balance.
Although their thick armor blocked the vast majority of the fragments, they were not “true iron cans” like the Astartes, so sharp shrapnel still drilled into places their armor could not protect.
More importantly, the tremendous shock and noise produced by the close-range explosions plunged those iron cans into a brief state of dizziness and confusion.
Now!
Mo Lin and the volunteers of the International Column were like two sharp daggers, stabbing fiercely into the formation of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment from two directions.
At the top of the high ground, the soldiers of the 1st Battalion, who had been bitterly holding on, also saw the situation over here.
When the Kingdom Army soldiers charged to within only a hundred meters of the position, Major Thomas drew his pistol and let out a deafening roar.
“Warriors of Sachsen! For the glory of the Black Eagle Banner! Counterattack!”