1850 American Gold Tycoon.

Chapter 706 Flesh Mill

The massacre continues.

The shooter who was shaking the Thunder machine gun's crank handle had a gradually ferocious expression on his face, veins on his neck bulged, and his index finger joints turned white from turning the handle for so long.

The assistant gunner, with his pupils out of focus, mechanically stuffed string after string of bullets into the feed port, just as they had done in training, repeating the action that had been repeated countless times.

The difference is that during training, they shot at lifeless targets, but now they are shooting at living beings.

At first, the shooters and assistant shooters of the machine gun crew still felt a little psychological pressure. After all, not far ahead, large groups of living lives were being harvested by them.

But later on, because they killed so many people, the shooters gradually became numb, as if they were just a part of the machine gun, completely achieving the unity of man and machine.

Soon, the thick smoke completely obscured the shooters' vision. They could no longer see what was ahead and could only shoot based on instinct.

Immediately afterwards, the machine gun barrels turned red due to the high-intensity shooting, and white smoke was emitted. Some machine guns even had mechanical failures.

However, they were well prepared. They came to the spare Thunder machine gun and continued shooting with the new machine gun to ensure the continuity of firepower.

"Withdraw! Withdraw all the soldiers! Withdraw all the boys! This is not a war! This is a fucking massacre!"

In the command post on the top of Omaha city, McClellan saw through the broken lens that the young men he had trained fell like dominoes - the bodies of the soldiers in the front row were torn to pieces by bullets, while the soldiers in the back row were either fleeing or mechanically loading their muzzle-loading rifles, which were better than nothing.

McClellan's heart bled as he watched the soldiers he had trained with great effort and under pressure from all sides fall easily under the guns of the Western Army. He even cried without caring about his image.

At this moment, McClellan was no longer thinking about how to break through, but how to save the lives of more soldiers.

"Machine gun. What machine gun? This is clearly a sewing machine that spits out lead bullets!"

The purgatory-like scene before him made French Army General Faure, who had just questioned the Spanish Army's deployment and believed that the Spanish Army was doomed to fail, feel his hair stand on end and his back chilled.

Forey couldn't think of any adjective to describe this weapon that Liang Yao called a machine gun. This weapon reminded Forey of the Butterfly sewing machine that his wife praised so much.

The needle of a Butterfly sewing machine rises and falls in the same graceful motion, except that the needle turns linen into lace, while the Thunder Gun rips flesh and blood into rags.

Damn! This popular product, which was once sold out in France, is also made in California!

What other magical things were produced in this remote place in California that he didn't know about?

"General Foley is really a man of insight. The working principle of this machine gun is indeed a little similar to that of a sewing machine."

Kruger thought that Foley's description of a sewing machine that spits lead bullets was quite apt.

"Only five minutes have passed." Foley took out his pocket watch and glanced at the hands on the watch. "In these five minutes, I'm afraid that no less than ten thousand Northern Union soldiers have been killed by machine guns."

The roar of the machine guns has not stopped yet. Countless lives of the Northern Army are being lost every second. The increasingly thick smoke on the battlefield completely blocks the view.

At this moment, Foley had no idea how many soldiers of the Northern Union Army had been killed. He only knew that the Northern Union Army had suffered heavy casualties, and that the number of casualties exceeding 10,000 was only a very conservative estimate.

Killing 10,000 people in five minutes means that this weapon can theoretically wipe out the entire French standing army within two hours.

Of course, this only existed in theory, but the killing efficiency was already quite astonishing. "I have never seen a weapon with such a high killing efficiency. This must be a weapon from hell!" Tromelin, a French naval commander who was also watching the battle, felt somewhat physically unwell. He seemed to smell the strong smell of blood coming from the front line.

"Kruger, after the Northern Army retreats, let the infantry go up to clean up the battlefield and attack Omaha City according to the plan."

Tromeran's sense of smell was not wrong. Their watchtower was downwind, and Liang Yao also smelled the pungent smell of blood mixed with gunpowder and dust. He stood up and left the watchtower with the dazed Napoleon III.

"President Liang, can I see your machine guns?" On the way back to the camp, Napoleon III, who had gradually come to his senses and recovered, made a request to Liang Yao.

"This weapon is our top secret, but there are no secrets between us. Since Your Majesty is interested, I will have someone bring a Thunder machine gun over as a gift to you." Liang Yao nodded and said.

The Thunder machine gun had already been used in actual combat, and it would not be long before Washington, Richmond, and even the British would learn of the existence of this weapon. It was no longer possible to keep it secret.

After the Northern Union Army retreated to Omaha, the infantry who had been slow to join the battle crossed the machine gun positions and headed towards Omaha.

At the machine gun position, the shooters of the machine gun unit, as well as the logistics personnel responsible for carrying ammunition and the mechanics responsible for repairing the machine guns were either retching on the spot or retching into buckets of cooling water.

Around them were the Thunder machine guns that were still emitting smoke and retaining their warmth, as well as copper shells and steel bullet plates piled up like hills.

The soldiers of the machine gun unit were lucky because they didn't have to clean up the battlefield yet and their superiors allowed them to rest.

The infantry brothers were not so lucky. When they stepped into the sea of ​​blood and corpses with their boots and leather shoes soaked in blood plasma, most of them, including many veterans who had participated in many wars, could not help vomiting.

Every time they pulled up their leather boots, there was a sticky tearing sound, as if the ground beneath their feet had opened thousands of mouths sucking blood.

Every step forward is a double test both mentally and physically.

In the entire fan-shaped area with a depth of 700 meters, the fragments of the Northern Army’s blue uniforms and human tissues were mixed into a strange carpet of flesh and blood, making it almost impossible to find a place to step.

Fortunately, after passing this 700-meter death fan area, the corpses of the Northern Army in the rear began to become gradually sparse, and they were finally able to find a place to step on, and the ground with their military boots no longer felt so sticky.

Most of the Northern Army bodies in the 700-meter death fan were killed by machine guns, and the bodies were very dense.

The scattered corpses beyond 700 meters were mostly caused by death due to artillery fire, trampling by the Northern Army during retreat, or even firefights during the fight for the road, and were scattered in distribution.

When we say that these corpses are scattered, this is actually relative to the 700-meter death sector. Compared with other battlefields, the density of corpses is quite terrifying.

The Northern Army, which had just suffered a devastating defeat, had no intention of continuing the fight. Under the fierce attack of the Western Army's infantry, the Northern Army gave up all its positions and defensive strongholds outside the city with almost no resistance and retreated into the small city of Omaha.

After occupying the positions on the edge of Omaha and encircling the remnants of the Union Army in the city, the militia units responsible for cleaning the battlefield entered the battlefield one after another and began to count and clean up the corpses of the Union Army to prevent the spread of plague.

It is now the hot summer of August. If these massive corpses are not dealt with properly, the plague will be more terrible than the guns of the Northern Army!

The Union Army of the Omaha Corps launched its breakout in the early evening, although machine gun units quickly ended the battle.

But by the time the militia troops responsible for cleaning the battlefield, wearing linen masks and crawling like ants, entered the scene, the sun had already set completely, and the scavenger birds such as crows and vultures, which had come following the smell of death, had already covered half the sky with darkness.

(End of this chapter)