The War Court and Lap Pillow, Austria's Mandate of Heaven

Chapter 1420 Planning
The British commander, Baron Raglan, was tasting the bright red wine and was not paying any attention to the fighting in the center of the battlefield.

In fact, the fight itself was meaningless. The Russians were testing the British firepower, and the British were testing the Russians' endurance.

But the adjutant on the side still didn't quite understand.

"Sir Commander, should we equip the Ottomans with some weapons?"

Baron Raglan asked back with a smile.

"Didn't we equip them with weapons?"

"But the weapons in their hands are no different from sticks."

"It's just a bunch of monkeys. A stick is just the right thing to do."

Baron Raglan said nonchalantly, and the adjutant was speechless.

"Look at it this way. We are helping the Ottomans fight their war. It's only right that they do something for us."

"Can"

"There's nothing to complain about. Giving them guns is a complete waste of money. Do you know what the newspapers and politicians back home say about us?"

The adjutant shook his head, and Lord Raglan threw the Times into his hands.

"See for yourself."

The adjutant unfolded the newspaper and saw the headline on the front page read: "British Government is planning to let Army BOYs spend all the British taxpayers' money."

The subtitle is "Where should a cabinet that loves to roll in the mud go?"

The British Army had a very low status in the UK, and was regarded as a third-class army by the gentlemen in Parliament. Even the Duke of Wellington, the commander-in-chief of the army, called it "the scum of the earth".

The adjutant finally understood Baron Raglan's intentions. There was no way the gentlemen in Congress could fight beautifully, but if a bloodbath really turned into a river, the army would definitely be blamed.

That's why Baron Raglan sent those Ottomans to their deaths. On the one hand, he wanted to obtain as much intelligence as possible about the Russian army and consume its manpower.

On the other hand, it was also a political game, forcing the Ottomans to put pressure on the British Parliament. In any case, the British Army would not take the blame.

On the battlefield, the lines of both sides were stuck together, and there were constant heart-wrenching screams and the sound of bayonets piercing flesh.

The Ottomans gradually gained the upper hand with their numbers, but the Russian commander had no plans to continue to send troops.

"Prepare the artillery to blast these scum to the ground."

"As ordered!"

The Russian artillery began to roar, and blood splashed in the center of the battlefield again.

Nicholas had heard that the Ottomans were a group of fearless monsters, but the people before him were all as terrified as he was.

The shells rained down, and some people around were screaming and running away, some knelt down to pray, and some had gone crazy.
Nicholas mechanically stabbed down an Ottoman, and another Ottoman knelt on the ground with a knife in his hand, but Nicholas still mechanically repeated the previous action.

After an unknown amount of time, Nicholas woke up again from the pile of corpses, his clothes soaked with sticky blood. He looked around for valuables and put them in his pockets. Then he picked up his gun as quickly as possible and limped towards his own position.

The absurd war continued like this until the heavy artillery that the Russian commander Alexander Plinsky had been dreaming of was delivered to the front line. This time the Russian army finally had the qualifications to engage in an artillery battle with the British. With the roar of the 24-pound heavy artillery, the Russian army's general offensive began.

Alexander Plinsky deployed 10 divisions, nearly troops at once.

Alexander Plinsky was very confident about this attack. He felt that the gap between the Russian and British armies lay in artillery.

The thirty heavy artillery pieces urgently transferred from the three major arsenals this time can definitely open a path to victory for Russia.

Baron Raglan wanted to enjoy his coffee first, then have a cigar to spend a wonderful afternoon.

However, the tremors of the ground made him realize that it would be impossible to avoid bloodshed. Unfortunately, he still did not wait for reinforcements or orders from the Prime Minister.
Baron Raglan was not frightened when he saw the rolling gray ocean. He calmly issued the orders that had been prepared long ago.

As the defender, Baron Raglan had already built this place into an impregnable fortress, and he was just waiting for the Russians to come to him.

Of course, in Baron Raglan's eyes, the Russian army on the opposite side was vulnerable, and the Redwood Army could completely seize the opportunity to launch an attack before the enemy reinforcements arrived, so as to kill more enemy troops.

But Baron Raglan did not want to take the blame. At that time, the public opinion environment in the UK was too bad and there were too many people who were against the war.

If the fight does not meet the expectations of those congressional elders, the result can be imagined, so no one is willing to take on this hot potato.

Therefore, Baron Raglan would rather watch the opportunity slip away than take the initiative to attack. However, defensive battles are different. The Russians' military thinking is still stuck in the 18th century and is not much better than the Ottomans.

As a member of the gray ocean, Nicholas feels extremely proud that such a team can overcome all obstacles in the world.

Everyone firmly believes this.
The Ottomans' resistance was unbearable. They fled in terror, and the soldier Nikolai excitedly shouted "Hurrah!"

"Ula!"

The gray wave was moving faster, but a thin red line appeared at the far end of the horizon, like a ribbon welcoming the winner at the finish line.

Suddenly, the enemy's artillery roared again, and this time it was different from the past, as if the earth and the sky were shaking. The 300 artillery pieces that the British army had deployed on the battlefield began to fire in unison, and the firepower was much more terrible than that of the Ottoman artillery.

Shells rained down like raindrops, and the platoon leader who had just held up his saber was left with only one arm in the blink of an eye. His comrades beside him suffered an even more miserable fate, with blood, flesh, and internal organs falling like raindrops.

The flames engulfed the sea of ​​people in front of them, but Nicholas and his comrades could not retreat because the officers continued to drive the gray flock forward.

"Marshal, the British artillery is too terrible! Retreat first!"

Alexander Plinsky was unmoved.

"How can we retreat now? If we retreat now, wouldn't our lives have been sacrificed in vain? Believe me, there will be casualties in this war! The more we sacrifice, the closer we are to victory."

The Russian army, advancing in dense formations, suffered unprecedented blows, but they did pass through the death zone as Alexander Plinsky said.

It was then that soldier Nicholas and his comrades discovered that the thin red line was actually a British soldier wearing redwood.

But this is a good thing for the Russian army. At least the enemy is a human being, not a black gun muzzle.

"For the Bulgarian women! Steal money! Steal food! Steal women! Brothers, charge!"

At this point, most people have already forgotten about any damn honor. Only the most primitive motivation can drive people forward.

The Russian soldiers let out the most primitive and bestial roars and rushed towards the Redwood Army not far away.