Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 151 Muskets and Spears

Finally, the Venetians and the United Provinces also experienced firsthand what it means to have connections in Paratu.

Upon arriving at the Legion's armory, Winters didn't need to say much; the armory readily agreed to replace the weapons and equipment of the JASKA squadron.

The grappling hooks were replaced with brand-new matchlock guns and steel crossbows, and the swords, shields, and extra-long spears were replaced with ordinary spears and halberds—Lieutenant Colonel Jessica believed that the militia's level of training made them even less qualified to be sword and shield bearers.

As requested by the lieutenant colonel, the number of militiamen using firearms was increased to half of the total number.

Each hundred-man squad now has three tents of musketeers and two tents of crossbowmen.

With a stroke of his pen, the ordnance chief approved more than twenty sets of half-body armor, thus adding another group of armored halberdiers to Winters' command.

Previously, the arsenal only issued one kilogram of lead to each musketeer, which, not counting the loss from burning, could at most be melted down into thirty-odd lead bullets.

Although there wasn't much shooting training in the regular army, the meager reserves of about thirty lead bullets per person and six barrels of gunpowder made the three lieutenants dare not use them at all.

The only shooting training exercise Winters' musketeers had ever had was taking turns firing a single shot randomly into an open field.

The intention was to familiarize these militiamen, who were farmers not long ago, with the sound of gunfire and flashes of light, so that they wouldn't be frightened when the actual shooting began.

This time, however, the Legion's arsenal gave the Jessica Battalion six hundred kilograms of lead and sixty barrels of gunpowder in one go, and it seemed to imply that they could come back for more once they had used it all.

The lads cheered with joy when they received their new equipment. Dusak, in particular, vied to be both armored halberdier and musketeer.

But Winters had a vague sense of unease.

Pierre was originally assigned as a swordsman and shieldman, but the Jessica's battalion no longer retained swordsmen and shieldmen. Mr. Littlecher didn't want to be a pikeman, so he went to Winters and begged him to let him handle the musket.

"What's wrong, sir?" Pierre excitedly approached the centurion, only to find the man frowning and looking serious. "We have new guns, new armor, and plenty of gunpowder and lead bullets. Why do you seem unhappy?"

"Do farmers feed oats to pigs to make them happy?" Winters retorted coldly. "Besides, what makes you happy? Don't you still owe ten lashes?"

……

As per the captain's order, the punishment was to be carried out before nightfall.

The new weapons had just been moved from the armory back to the camp when they were subjected to caning.

In Plato's army, the whipping punishment was not carried out with ordinary horsewhips or hemp ropes, but with a soft whip nearly two meters long made of leather strips.

Before use, the whip must be soaked in vinegar to ensure that each lash causes the victim excruciating pain.

Four grape-sized lead balls were also attached to the tip of the whip to increase its power.

In the hands of experienced military police, a single lash could tear a person's skin apart, ten lashes could render them unconscious, and thirty lashes could beat them to death.

The militia from the three towns gathered once again at Xiaoxiaochang to observe the execution.

Lieutenant Montagne walked into the drill ground carrying a whip. Vahika, who had been trying to act tough and comfort Pierre by saying, "What's wrong with whipping?", suddenly found his knees trembling involuntarily.

The punishments in the military camp were simple: physical labor, riding wooden horses—with a musket strapped to each leg—whipping, and hanging.

Holding the whip in his hand, Winters felt a pang of unease.

The instrument of torture was given to Winters on the very first day he arrived at the Maplestone camp, but he never touched it.

In fact, the harshest punishment Winters ever gave to the boys he brought from Wolftown was nothing more than manual labor.

“Start with the sergeant!” Winters gritted his teeth and began calling out names with a stern face: “Vashika Morozov!”

Vahika, his face deathly pale, stepped out of the line.

"Tie him up!"

The two gendarmes of Montagne's Hundred—Charles and Heinrich—were ordered to move out.

They took Vahika to the side of the wagon, made him kneel in front of the wheels, and tied his hands tightly to the wagon with hemp rope.

Charles patted Vasika on the shoulder sympathetically and silently. Heinrich gave Vasika a towel to bite on, and the two military policemen then turned and walked away.

Now only Vahika is left.

All he could see was the mud-covered cart bed, and behind him, the whip that might strike at any moment, and the gazes of others.

He was consumed by immense humiliation and fear.

The whooshing sound of the whip striking his body preceded the blow itself, followed by excruciating pain that pierced to the bone. Vasika's breathing stopped abruptly, and before he could recover, the second lash came.

The two-meter-long whip was very difficult to use, but Winters gritted his teeth and lashed it one after another without holding back.

He now understood why the one-eyed colonel had asked him to carry out the executions himself—Jeska was not only going to whip the Wolftown militia, but also the Wolftown centurion.

The lieutenant colonel was saying to him, "Watch closely, these are the soldiers you're leading."

The whip struck not only Vahika's body but also his face. Isn't the militia's lax discipline ultimately due to a lack of effective discipline?

For the first three lashes, Vahika managed to keep quiet.

With the fourth lash, Vahika began to let out inhuman screams.

Starting with the seventh lash, the screams gradually weakened, and in the end, only the sound of the whip tip striking the back could be heard on the training ground.

After fifteen lashes, Vasika, bloodied and unconscious, was carried off the training ground by Charles and Heinrich.

"This is military law! Whether you're a militiaman or a soldier!" Winters gripped the whip tightly and roared at the drill ground: "Leave the camp without permission, whipping! Theft, cowardice, hanging! Defection, family members implicated!"

The queue was completely silent.

"Next!"

Another militiaman who had deserted the camp was tied to a rack, and the chilling sound of whipping rang out once again.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica didn't even show up; after twelve years of overseas assignments, he had too many people to meet.

While Lieutenant Montagne was forcefully swinging his whip, the lieutenant colonel was enjoying drinks with his classmates and friends.

……

……

The day after the flogging.

The sun was shining brightly, and the weather was slightly cool.

On the parade ground outside Shuangqiao Camp, the sound of muskets firing in unison could be heard from time to time.

Sparks flew everywhere, and smoke filled the air.

Winters shouted, "Retract the support!"

The musketeer who had just fired quickly pulled the wooden fork from the ground. The fork was a wooden stick with sharpened ends and an iron hook at one end, used to hold the gun barrel.

"Shoulder the gun!"

Upon hearing the order, the musketeers hurriedly straightened their rifles and shouldered them.

When a militiaman was putting away his gun, he accidentally pointed it at someone next to him. The soldier supervising him rushed over and hit him hard with a stick.

"Never point a gun at anyone but the enemy!" Winters shouted, noticing the commotion. "You never know if the bullet in the chamber has been fired until you check it!"

The militiamen held their muskets, not daring to move.

"Put down your gun! Check the chamber!" Winters continued to give orders.

The musketeers placed the butts of their muskets on the ground, pulled out the cleaning rods, and carefully pushed them into the barrels.

"Sir!" a militiaman reported with a mournful face, "My lance isn't inserted properly, it seems to have misfired." Misfires are common with muskets; sparks are flying from the powder bath outside the barrel, but the propellant inside the barrel hasn't ignited.

Some musketeers were so nervous that they didn't notice the misfire. They would then stuff new gunpowder and lead bullets on top of the first lead bullet.

Someone once found a musket on the Vicksburg battlefield with seven unfired lead bullets in the chamber.

Repeated loading can result in the engine continuing to misfire, or even cause it to explode.

Therefore, musketeers have a mark on their cleaning rods. If the mark is at the muzzle when the cleaning rod is inserted to the deepest point in the chamber, it means that the bullet has been fired.

If the mark is a finger's width away from the muzzle, the musketeer is in trouble.

Winters walked over to the militiaman with the long face, took the musket, and said, "What's the panic about the misfire? Just reload and fire."

He poured gunpowder into the powder vat, put the lid on, and reattached the matchlock to the musket—the impact of the burning powder vat could knock the matchlock off or even blow it out, which was one of the troublesome aspects of using a matchlock musket.

He then pried open the pool cover again and pulled the launch lever. The dark red tip of the match ignited the gunpowder pool, instantly blown away from the rope clamp by the blast wave.

The propellant in the gun barrel was successfully ignited, and a small cloud of smoke rose from the distant mound.

"Alright." Winters tossed the musket back to the militia and loudly issued a new order: "Clean the barrel!"

The musketeers pulled out rags, rolled them around cleaning rods, and began wiping the gun barrels.

In actual combat, you don't need to clean the barrel every time you fire, but this is training, so of course you have to do the whole process.

Winters sighed inwardly as he watched the militiamen scrambling around.

In the infantry manual revised six years ago, the arquebus firing procedure had twenty-five steps, which were further broken down into forty-two actions.

The complete firing process is far more complex than simply "loading and firing".

The longest passage these militiamen have ever memorized in their lives is probably the Lord's Prayer.

Just preventing them from setting themselves on fire was already giving Lieutenant Montagne a real headache.

But this cannot be blamed on them. Two months ago they were just hardworking farmers, and two days ago many of them had never even touched a musket.

They weren't volunteer soldiers; they were just unlucky ones selected by lottery.

Winters waved his hand: "Next group!"

Another group of militiamen stepped forward, carrying muskets. Rows of small wooden bottles hung on their chests, containing gunpowder that had been weighed in advance.

Thank goodness, thirty years ago Field Marshal Ned proposed the concept of "standard charge" and invented the epoch-making ammunition bottle.

Otherwise, just teaching the militia how much gunpowder to use each time they load a bullet would drive Lieutenant Montagne crazy.

"I suppose the old marshal was forced into inventing the ammunition bottle back then?" Winters couldn't help but think.

While Winters was overwhelmed with problems at the shooting range, Andrei and Bader, who were in charge of training the spearmen, were much more relaxed.

The spearmen simply practiced simple formation changes on the parade ground, then practiced marching and turning in columns, and finally practiced stabbing wooden stakes.

The militiamen were much more relaxed after their five-and-a-half-meter-long guns were replaced with two-and-a-half-meter-long spears.

Extra-long guns are too long and require special carrying gear, which makes movement somewhat inconvenient.

The spear is simple; just carry it on your shoulder.

However, it wasn't much lighter than the extra-long spear because an iron sleeve was added behind the spearhead to prevent the shaft from being cut off by the enemy.

The most troublesome thing for Badr and Andrei was teaching the militia to distinguish left from right and correcting their mistakes in marching.

After two days, the spearmen became more and more skilled and looked very energetic.

On the other hand, Winters is constantly encountering problems, and all sorts of things can go wrong.

Some people even forgot to remove the piercing rod after loading the bullet, and ended up knocking the piercing rod and the lead bullet flying away together.

Fortunately, there have been no barrel explosions so far, otherwise the militia would be even more afraid of the muskets in their hands.

The newly arrived militiamen held their muskets timidly, their heads practically tilted back.

Enraged, Winters lashed out with his riding crop, yelling, "Put your chin on the butt of your rifle! Aim carefully before you fire! Point the muzzle at the target! Don't pull the trigger with your eyes closed!"

The process of a musket firing a projectile is essentially an explosion, so naturally the farther away you are, the better.

Holding a metal pipe that could explode at any moment, very few militiamen dared to put their chins on the butt of their rifles and aim carefully.

In fact, most people are much more accurate with firearms than with bows and arrows, for the same reason that crossbows are more accurate than bows.

When shooting an arrow, a person has to exert force, their arm will shake, and they get more and more tired the more they shoot. Only a few expert archers can shoot exactly where they want.

However, compared to the inherent accuracy errors of the muskets themselves, there were far more instances where gunmen dared not aim and fired haphazardly, resulting in missed shots.

“Not bad.” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica watched for a while at the shooting range and said, “Those who come out of the Army Academy are definitely better than my bunch of haphazard subordinates overseas. They’re all serious and proper.”

Upon hearing this, Winters was unsure whether the lieutenant colonel was scolding or praising him.

"Sir," Winters suggested reluctantly, "How about we switch guns but not the gunmen? Let the one who dares to fire shoot, and the others can reload."

“No.” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica shook his head: “If they don’t fire the gun themselves, they won’t be careful when reloading, which will make accidents more likely. Besides, changing the gun but not the person is putting the soldiers who dare to fire at the greatest risk. If the brave soldiers are all shot or blown up, what will happen to the soldiers who are afraid to fire? We still have to make sure that all soldiers dare to fire.”

Winters was speechless for a moment.

The one-eyed colonel said indifferently, "Keep training, don't be impatient. Your training skills are good, better than your two peers."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the other two lieutenants.

Although Lieutenant Colonel Jessica had lost an eye, it did not diminish his sharp eye.

On the surface, Bader and Andrei seem to have far more achievements than Winters.

The pikemen's neat and orderly formation looked impressive, while the musketeers continued to encounter problems.

But in reality, it's all just for show; training a spearman is much more difficult than training a musketeer.

A qualified spearman needs not only physical strength and skill, but most importantly, a tenacious will and thick nerves.

Before a spearman can even talk about fighting, he must first dare not flee when the enemy launches a full-scale attack.

Training a swordsman and shieldman is more difficult than training a spearman.

After all, long weapons have the advantage of distance, while sword and shield fighters really have to fight in close combat.

Those who could serve as sword and shield bearers were all brave and elite warriors, which is why Lieutenant Colonel Jessica simply ordered all the militiamen to use spears.

Shooting at the enemy from a distance with a musket or crossbow is far simpler and easier than killing them with melee weapons at close range—both physically and psychologically.

Training continues in full swing.

"Practice hard!" Winters scolded sadly, "The sweat you slack off today will be the blood you'll bleed more of in the future!"

He silently asked himself: Do farmers feed oats to pigs to make them happy?
The wagon formation was gone, but the classic combination of muskets and spears remained, so Mr. John Jessica couldn't be considered to have lost out.

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(End of this chapter)