Chapter 67 Massacre "Charge! Charge!" Traore heard the company commander's shout. His heart tightened and he immediately put on the barbed wire on his back and climbed out of the trench along the breastwork. His hands were tightly gripping the cold metal, his palms were soaked with sweat. Just as he climbed up the trench and had not yet gained a firm foothold, a shell whizzed down from the sky and hit the trench behind him. The company commander who had been shouting "charge" was blown to pieces in an instant. Flesh and debris flew everywhere, and the smell of steam and blood filled the air. Traore was completely stunned by this sudden scene, his ears were buzzing, as if the world had lost its sound at this moment. The company commander who was originally there had turned into a pile of steaming minced meat, scattered in the white mud. The scene before him was like the door to hell opened, but Traore had no time to digest it all. "Charge! Charge!" As soon as the company commander's voice disappeared, the platoon leader climbed up the trench along the breastwork and took over the command. His hoarse voice was like an irresistible command, grabbing the hearts of every soldier. The platoon leader led the way towards the no-man's land without any hesitation. His steps were heavy and firm, and he did not retreat at all. More and more British soldiers poured out of the trenches like a tide, and Traore followed their platoon leader mechanically. He could feel his heart beating rapidly, the bayonet in his hand pressed against the cold rifle barrel, and his palms sweated due to nervousness. The soldiers marched towards the no-man's land at a steady pace under the leadership of their officers in a carefully rehearsed formation. Their footsteps made dull "thump" sounds in the mud of the trenches, forming a strange symphony with the gradually sparse sound of artillery fire in the distance.
This was the idea of General Rawlinson, commander of the Fourth Army, who believed that these new recruits lacked combat experience and would not be able to launch an attack in a more flexible manner. In his eyes, they were more like a force without the ability to think independently, and could only rely on dense formations and pace to create a mechanical sense of oppression. He decided to adopt a wave-like offensive strategy. This tactic would not only enhance the confidence of the recruits, but also ensure that they would not collapse easily. After seven days and seven nights of continuous artillery bombardment, General Rawlinson was convinced that the Prussian army's resistance had been weakened to almost nothing, so he thought this was the ideal time to attack. The marching speed of the British soldiers was strictly controlled. Each row marched at a speed of about 90 meters every two minutes, and the walking time was calculated in seconds. The soldiers were like executing a precise mathematical proposition. Their steps had to be perfectly coordinated with the artillery's slow-moving barrage of bombardment to ensure that they would not be accidentally injured by their own artillery fire. The soldiers were also required to run only when they were more than 20 meters away from the enemy. Of course, even without this order, it would be almost impossible for these soldiers to jog all the way to the Prussian trenches. Each of these British soldiers who launched the first wave of attack carried a load of more than 30 kilograms, and the heavy backpacks almost bent their spines. They not only had to carry weapons and ammunition, but also materials to consolidate their positions, such as wooden boards, barbed wire, sticks and machine guns. These equipment were like ruthless shackles that bound their bodies tightly. Some thin British soldiers would have found it difficult to climb out of the trenches if it weren't for the help of the officers next to them. Traore followed behind the platoon leader, his ears filled with the sound of exploding shells and the shouts of his companions, and his heart was filled with uneasiness. Suddenly he thought of Hector, his partner who was always full of energy and seemed to be the first one to rush out of the trench with the football. He raised his head and looked forward, vaguely seeing Hector kicking the football deftly on the ground full of craters, and the football drew an arc in the air. As Hector kicked the ball with a big kick, Traore heard a sharp whizzing sound passing by his ears, and the next moment, his helmet suddenly flew up, as if it was taken off by an invisible hand. He stared blankly at the helmet that had fallen to the ground and had a big hole in it. His mind was blank and he didn't have time to react to what had happened. Soon Traore discovered that the platoon leader walking in the front suddenly fell down. His body fell on the muddy ground without warning, and then the British soldiers around him began to fall down in large numbers. At the same time, the whistling sound of artillery shells echoed above their heads, and each sound was like a death knell, hitting their eardrums. The shells landed on the ground not far away. The shock wave of the explosion blew dirt and rocks into the air, and the broken shrapnel knocked many British soldiers to the ground. The originally neatly arranged team fell apart in an instant, and the battlefield suddenly turned into a chaotic battlefield. At this time, Traore finally understood that what they were facing was not a simple attack, but a fatal mistake. The scene before him seemed to be pulled out of a nightmare. All his confidence and courage collapsed into pieces of fear at this moment. He looked at Hector in front of him who was cheering for his kick. The figure who should have belonged to youth and hope was shattered into pieces by a shell. Blood mixed with mud was scattered all over the no-man's land.
The comrades around him fell one after another, their bodies twisted in pain and emitting miserable groans. At this moment, there was only one voice echoing in Traore's mind. Weren't the Prussians on the other side torn to pieces by artillery fire? Weren't there no obstacles to their advance? And what about their artillery? Where was the artillery fire support? Where had it all gone? The British artillery in the rear did not notice that their infantry had not yet reached their designated positions and extended their fire to bombard the Prussian second trench. Without the cover of artillery fire, British soldiers will dye the entire no-man's land red on this day. ………… The Prussians were not destroyed by the artillery fire or afraid of the British attack as the British soldiers thought. Instead, they felt a sense of relief when the British artillery fire ended and they launched the attack. Finally, they no longer had to hide in the tunnels like rats, trembling in fear at the sound of explosions. They would then vent the fear and torture of the past seven days on the attacking British troops. Lu Mingfei lay on the top of the bunker and saw through the telescope that the British soldiers on the opposite side were marching slowly towards them in neat rows. He could hardly believe his eyes. These British soldiers were the products of the battlefield of this era. They were holding rifles with bayonets and advancing slowly at a pace that seemed to come from the Middle Ages. The bayonets shone brightly in the sun, and the reflected light seemed to declare their determination, but in Lu Mingfei's eyes, this scene seemed extremely absurd. He felt that these British soldiers were not fighting a modern war but a medieval cold weapon duel. They did not seem to understand the power of machine guns, nor could they foresee the impending bloody massacre. However, as the British soldiers slowly advanced, Lu Mingfei had no time to think any more. His heart began to beat faster, blood quickly flowed throughout his body, and his finger unconsciously pressed on the trigger of the machine gun. He knew that the next battle would be a massacre without a doubt, but he also knew that if he didn't do this, they themselves would become the ones being slaughtered. The five Maxim machine guns on top of the bunker opened fire at the same time. Five tongues of fire swept the British infantrymen like cutting wheat. As 250 rounds of bullets, 500 rounds of bullets, and 1000 rounds of bullets were fired by the machine guns, the bullet chains were used up one by one. The no-man's land began to be filled with corpses, but British soldiers still continued to crawl out of the trenches and walked towards them. "Bring up the spare barrel!" Lu Mingfei shouted. The machine gun in his hand had already fired 5000 rounds of bullets, and the barrel had already turned red. 5000 rounds of bullets was the life limit of the barrel. If he fired more, not only would the barrel explode, but the bullets would also have no accuracy at all. Soon a soldier came running over with a spare barrel to replace Lu Mingfei's machine gun. Now other soldiers in the company were serving these machine guns. Their task was to ensure the continuous firing of the machine guns. Whether it was replacing barrels or loading ammunition belts for the machine guns, they were busy all the time. This is no longer a simple battle, but a test of the limits of cooperation between humans and machines. After firing 500 rounds of bullets, Lu Mingfei's machine gun needed to be replaced again. He didn't know how many people he had killed, 1000 or ? He couldn't remember clearly, he only knew that the British seemed to be endless and continued to surge towards them like a wave. However, the cruelty of the battle was not only the enemy's crazy attack, but also the barrel of Lu Mingfei's machine gun was overheated, and the water used to cool the machine gun also began to boil, and the boiling water transferred the high temperature to the trigger of the machine gun. In such high temperatures, if it weren't for the help of the bronze throne, Lu Mingfei's fingers wouldn't even be able to pull the trigger. The fingers of several other machine gunners were almost burned due to the high temperature. Their skin stuck to the trigger of the machine gun. Every time they pulled the trigger, they felt the pain of torn flesh. But the battle had reached a white-hot stage at this time. The Prussian machine gunners gritted their teeth and kept their hands on the trigger. Their hands had been severely burned, and the skin hung on their knuckles like scalded ribbons. Lu Mingfei continued to pull the trigger after replacing the barrel of the machine gun. Those bullets would turn the no-man's land in front of him into a forbidden zone for life. No matter how many British troops came up, they would only add another corpse to this land. When Lu Mingfei's machine gun fired 15000 rounds, the barrel needed to be replaced again. However, this time the water pipe on the machine gun used to guide the steam to the kettle was burned off. Originally, the cooling water in the insulation cover on the barrel would evaporate under high temperature and return to the kettle to become water under the traction of the water pipe. But now due to the broken water pipe, all the steam sprayed out, making a sizzling sound. It wasn't just Lu Mingfei's machine gun that was like this, it was the same with the other machine guns as well. The steam from the barrels formed a cloud of smoke above their heads. The smoke was very dangerous as it would expose the position of Lu Mingfei and his men. If they were discovered by the British artillery, they might be bombarded. Moreover, since the cooling water had no way to circulate, the cooling water in the barrel would completely evaporate in a short while. What's worse is that the machine gunner's hands were increasingly severely burned by the high temperature. The skin had begun to peel off, and his fingers were stiff and trembling, like charcoal burned by flames. Because they had to press the safety button repeatedly, their originally flexible thumbs turned into irregular swollen lumps of flesh, and their skin adhered to the steel under high temperatures. The pain made every time they pulled the trigger feel like a mental and physical torture. At the same time, due to holding the machine gun handle tightly for a long time, vibration-induced cramps became another fatal problem, and the severe pain was almost unbearable.
The machine gunners whose hands were severely burned were quickly replaced. Although the soldiers who replaced them tried to hold on, they could not hold the hot steel for long. Every soldier who took over the machine gunner's position had his hands severely burned in just a few minutes. Their fingertips swelled due to the high temperature, and their skin slowly bubbled and peeled off on the burning machine gun like a fried egg. "Damn it!" Lu Mingfei cursed angrily. There were already thousands of corpses lying in the no-man's land in front of them, but those British soldiers seemed to be completely fearless of death and were still charging forward. "Give me all the bullets and machine guns!" Lu Mingfei understood that this could not go on. If other soldiers continued to replace the machine gunner, the end result would only be that everyone would lose their combat capability. So he decided to concentrate all firepower and all ammunition and machine guns on himself. This way, he could at least ensure a stable firepower point and curb the British attack to the greatest extent. Although this approach was extremely risky, there was no other choice at the moment. Five machine guns were quickly moved to Lu Mingfei's side, and he alone took on the firepower output of the entire defense line. Hill, Paul, and other soldiers were constantly loading ammunition belts for him. Their movements were tense and quick, and the ammunition belts in their hands seemed to be endless as they were stuffed into the machine gun in Lu Mingfei's hand. Soon another 5000 bullets were fired. Lu Mingfei immediately switched to a machine gun and continued shooting. The others immediately replaced the barrel of the machine gun that had been hit red. As the barrel gradually turned red, the cooling water quickly evaporated, and the steam spread in the air, forming a thick white mist. The white mist not only blocked their vision, but also exposed their specific location. In order to avoid being discovered by the British artillery, Lu Mingfei had to constantly use the Eye of the Wind King to blow away the steam. His spirit was almost pushed to the limit, but he knew that any slackness would lead to the annihilation of the entire army. "Where's the water! Add some water quickly!" Lu Mingfei's voice was hoarse and rapid due to nervousness and fatigue. His eyes were red and the machine gun in his hand could no longer withstand prolonged shooting. If the temperature did not drop, the consequences would be disastrous. "Report to the company commander... there is... no water..." A recruit next to him stuttered, frightened by Lu Mingfei's aura. Their water reserves were not much to begin with and most of it was used to feed the machine guns. "Hill! Paul! Do everything you can to get me water!" Lu Mingfei ordered almost in a roar, his voice full of urgency and anger. He knew that the machine gun must not stop firing at this time, because as soon as the fire stopped, the British soldiers would surge up like a tide and completely submerge them. Paul and Hill, as Lu Mingfei's right-hand men, immediately understood the urgency of the matter. Without any hesitation, they picked up the kettles, started urinating into them, and then poured them into the heat insulation cover of the machine gun. It might be disgraceful, even ridiculous, but at this moment, under the shadow of death, any way to stay alive is worth trying. As the urine was poured in, the machine gun was temporarily cooled down, but this was only a stopgap measure. They soon realized that the urine would also run out, so they began to collect urine from other soldiers in the company. No matter what, as long as they could survive, nothing else mattered. Lu Mingfei continued to pull the trigger. He could no longer count how many people he had killed. 2000? 3000? Or 4000? These numbers were meaningless to him. The corpses of the British soldiers on the opposite side were basically filling up the no-man's land. The pile of corpses was probably as high as a mountain, and the blood that flowed could even dye the Somme River red. At the beginning, Lu Mingfei was able to pull the trigger calmly. After all, he was a prolific killer, and killing was as easy for him as eating and drinking. With the help of the sickle-weasel, the bullets he fired from the machine gun were still very accurate. Through the kamaweasel, he felt those heartbeats disappearing one by one from his detection. When the number of those living heartbeats disappeared reached a certain level, Lu Mingfei could no longer bear it. He silently turned off the kamaitachi and began to aim with his eyes. Although the accuracy of his shooting decreased, as long as the firepower was strong enough, everything would be fine. But as he saw the bullets he fired tearing more and more British soldiers into pieces, his originally calm mentality began to become a little irritable, especially when he saw some young faces, he began to feel a little bit reluctant and even had the urge to release the trigger. But he didn't do anything in the end, because he was responsible for the soldiers around him. They followed him to the battlefield, and as a commander, he had to try his best to bring them back alive. As more and more British soldiers died, Lu Mingfei's hand began to tremble as he pulled the trigger. How many people had died? 5000? 6000? Every time he fired, more than a dozen lives were taken away. Every time he pulled the trigger, he felt that he was sliding into the abyss step by step. "Retreat! Don't go and die!" Lu Mingfei shouted loudly in English, and his voice even began to sound pleading. However, he knew that no matter how loud he shouted, the massacre would not stop. He had to continue shooting to buy a chance of survival for the surviving soldiers behind him. This was his unavoidable responsibility and the only thing he could do. He is slaughtering, slaughtering a group of young lives, slaughtering people like him. If they survive, will there be another Einstein or another Newton among these people? What will happen to their families? How many people are waiting for them to return home?
He knew that he was destroying not only the enemy's army, but also the hopes and futures of countless families. He didn't dare to think about it anymore. He felt that he was going to be driven crazy by the endless killing and guilt. Lu Mingfei's hands had almost lost feeling from the heat of the gun barrel, but his fingers still pulled the trigger, and bullets were fired one after another, piling the corpses in front of him higher. In this hellish battlefield, Lu Mingfei could no longer distinguish right from wrong. He only knew that he had to survive and lead the soldiers around him back home alive. I would like to thank my big brother on the list, "Don't read if you are a bad writer," for his strong support for this book. I should have added an update today, but I was too busy at work, so I will leave it as is. I will try my best to write one more chapter tomorrow. I wrote 5200 words today, which is a bit too much. Finally, thank you again for your strong support! This is the new one. The previous one was full. 582178180 (End of this chapter)