Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 56: A Special Target for Those Who Wear Ties!

Morin led two squads of reserve troops, moving swiftly through the ruins and shadows of buildings.

His thinking was clear: given the fighting prowess shown by the Brittanyians, a head-on confrontation would be suicidal.

To relieve pressure on the flanks, it is necessary to disrupt the enemy's offensive rhythm.

The most effective way to disrupt the rhythm of urban warfare is to try to take out their commander.

The fact that officers of that era liked to rush to the front lines certainly gave Morin this opportunity.

Soon, Morin led them to the left flank, where the battle had reached its climax.

The International Brigades soldiers, relying on the ruined buildings and barricades, were engaged in a desperate struggle against the ever-surging Northumberland Fusiliers.

But the situation is far from optimistic.

Even with the support of 'urban warfare theory', neither the International Brigades, the National Army, nor the Saxon soldiers had received the corresponding training.

To be honest, if it weren't for their natural advantage as defenders, their performance in urban warfare wouldn't have been much better than the enemy's.

The Britannians had already stormed the first row of buildings, and the two sides were fighting for control of each house and room.

Instead of rushing into the main battle, Morin led his soldiers and quietly climbed up a three-story building on the side.

From here, he could clearly see the large Britannian army on the street below.

He set up his rifle and carefully searched through the enemy ranks.

He quickly found his goal.

It was a Breton officer wearing a tie, waving a small revolver, and shouting something.

In this era, the identity markers of military officers were very obvious.

They usually wear more formal military uniforms, carry swords or pistols, and always give orders from the rear of the ranks.

Morin took a deep breath and steadily pulled the trigger.

"boom!"

Gunshots mingled with the noise of the battlefield, going unnoticed.

But the Britannian officer who was directing the battle suddenly jolted, a burst of blood erupted from his chest, he looked down in disbelief, and then fell straight down.

The soldiers around him were stunned.

Before they could react, several veterans with excellent marksmanship around Morin also found their targets and opened fire one after another.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Several more men who appeared to be officers or sergeants fell to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, the others also opened fire on any targets they could aim at.

This threw the Brittany army in the region into complete chaos.

Brittany's relatively rigid military traditions meant that its rank-and-file soldiers were less proactive than those in Saxony, and in most cases had to rely on the direct command of their superiors to fight.

So after several officers fell, the soldiers were thrown into disarray. They didn't know whether to continue the attack or retreat, and they just stood there, frozen in place.

Seeing this, the soldiers of the International Brigades also began to fight back, completely suppressing these Brittany soldiers.

"Well done! Keep it up! Target the guys wearing ties!"

"Morlin commanded in a low voice."

The squad he led was like a group of hunters lurking in the shadows, constantly sniping key enemy personnel with precise cold shots.

However, their attack quickly allowed the enemy to pinpoint their approximate location.

A large number of riflemen began firing wildly at the building where they were located, bullets scattering plaster off the walls.

After several bullets hit the window frame, Morin and the others dared not peek out.

Worse still, the soldiers of the Left-Wing International Brigades couldn't withstand the casualties and began to retreat. But Morin couldn't blame them, after all, most of the International Brigades members, who came from all over the country, had not received any military training before coming to the Kingdom of Aragon.

They underwent less than three months of basic training after receiving their equipment before being thrown into battle.

So, setting aside morale and resilience, it's hard to say they are much stronger than the Kingdom's 'strongmen' in terms of combat skills alone.

As they retreated, the previously relatively solid defensive area of ​​the 3rd row, as Morin had predicted, gradually became a vulnerable area surrounded by enemies on three sides.

This is the last thing he wanted to see.

If the enemy had acted any faster, their 3rd platoon would likely have been completely surrounded.

"We must evacuate!"

Morin made a decisive decision.

He dispatched the last remaining messenger among his men.

"Go and inform Sergeant Klaus! Tell him to gather all available units, including heavy machine gun positions and field artillery, and immediately abandon their current positions and retreat to the third line of defense deep within the city! I'll find a way to delay the enemy for them. Go now!"

The messenger took the order and left.

Maureen herself made an even bolder decision.

He glanced at the remaining soldiers around him, including Corporal Bowman who had just retreated from the vicinity to join him, and the two bruised squads he commanded, totaling twenty-nine men.

"Corporal Bowman!"

"Present! Platoon leader!"

"Do you dare to play a big game with me?" Morin looked at him, his eyes flashing with a crazy light.

Corporal Bowman grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

"Platoon leader, just tell us what to do, and we'll do it!"

"Well done!"

Morin patted him heavily on the shoulder, then pulled a rough map of Seville from the orderly's satchel and spoke to him.

"We won't retreat, we'll advance! We'll infiltrate behind this enemy force and give them a good beating! Then we'll circle back to our position!"

"Interweave?"

Although Bowman and his soldiers didn't quite understand what Morin meant by 'infiltration,' they were all excited.

After all, in their view, as long as they followed Morin, they could teach these Britannians a lesson they would never forget.

Soon, Morin, along with his group of twenty-odd people, disappeared into the maze-like ruins using the ability to see through everything – if it's not closed, it's not open.

At the same time, Sergeant Klaus also received orders from the messenger.

The calm and capable platoon leader frowned after hearing Morin's plan.

He knew how risky the platoon leader's decision was; if it failed, the small team would not return.

But he knew even more clearly that this was the only way to buy time for the main force to retreat.

Moreover, he had a feeling that only Morin could pull off such a dangerous battle.
"Yes, execute the order!"

Without the slightest hesitation, Klaus immediately began organizing his troops.

He quickly relayed the orders to all the units that could be found, instructing them to take turns providing cover and retreat in an orderly manner to the rear.

The heavy machine gun team disassembled the machine gun body and tripod, and with the cover of the infantry, they retreated first.

The two precious cannons, thanks to the gunners' efforts, were remounted on draft horses and dragged deeper into the city.

Although the entire evacuation was tense, it proceeded in an orderly manner under the command of the veteran sergeant Klaus.

(End of this chapter)