Chapter 1136: Chapter 6 New Blood_2

Like bricks in a wall, the ranks were stacked one upon another, extending from a point outward toward both wings.

Botar guessed: the enemy had formed this single-sided formation because they had their backs to the wall and did not need to guard against potential attacks from the rear.

To some extent, Botar’s assumption was correct. But when he actually commanded his troops to march toward the rebel square formation, he realized: because the line was spread out in ranks, the numerically inferior rebel line was instead broader.

Conversely, Botar’s own troops, having deployed in a solid square formation, had soldiers inside and at the rear almost ‘wasted.’ Not only could they not outflank the enemy’s wings, but they were also at risk of being outflanked by the enemy.

However, Botar neither dared nor could deploy in ranks like the rebels.

The rebels dared to form such a formation because they had no worries with their backs protected by the wall; but above Botar’s head hung the sword named ‘rebel cavalry,’ which, if Botar’s soldiers formed in ranks, could utterly destroy his army in a single charge.

Moreover, Botar’s troops could maintain discipline largely because the square formation gave the soldiers a sense of security. What would happen if the square formation was disbanded? Botar dared not imagine.

Botar decisively changed the direction of the infantry, no longer seeking a central breakthrough, but instead attacking one wing of the rebel line. The only half squad of riders he kept at hand, ready to defend against any sudden appearance of rebel cavalry, waiting for the opportunity to strike the rebel’s flank.

He strictly followed the tactical actions taught by Mr. Alpha — sending his musketeers to shoot at the rebels before his spearmen entered the firing range of the rebel gunners.

In the textbooks of the Alliance Army Academy, this “exchange of fire” tactic is explained as: if the enemy shooters fire, their best initial shooting opportunity will be wasted; if the enemy shooters do not fire, our musketeers can continuously weaken the enemy.

Then, Botar’s musketeers were met with a head-on barrage.

One round, two rounds, three rounds…the rebels’ firearms seemed not to need reloading, shot after shot.

With every small forward advance by Botar’s musketeers, the rebels would unleash a new volley; every time the rebels’ gunfire sounded, Botar’s heart would skip a beat.

His deployed musketeers hadn’t yet reached their shooting range before being mowed down by the hail of lead that swept the battlefield. Those lucky enough to survive couldn’t care about military law, dropping their weapons and fleeing in panic between the two armies.

The gunfire stopped, and the rebels’ horizontal formation returned to silence, seemingly mocking Botar in speechless derision.

The phalanx of the Shovel Port troops also fell silent, with no one knowing if they would survive.

Botar led the guards to chase down the fleeing musketeers, slaying all the deserters.

Returning to the front, Botar’s eyes were bloodshot, he didn’t understand, why, despite following the formal tactics taught by Alpha, he was repeatedly beaten; meticulously executing Alpha’s plan, yet constantly restrained.

So what tactics? What officers? To hell with it! We’ll do it my way!

“Everyone in Shovel Port is a traitor! They’ve defected to the rebels! They are no longer protected by the Republic’s laws!” Botar shouted with all his might: “Capture Shovel Port! Everything in it is yours! Women! Gold and silver! Everything! It’s all yours!”

By the end, Botar’s voice was almost a beastly roar: “Forget about the formation! Spearmen! Kill them all! Charge!!!”

At the other end of the battlefield, Bart Xialing, watching the distant, frantic gang leader, ordered the second battalion on the right wing to move toward the enemy’s flank.

On the makeshift fortifications, Captain Moro’s voice was colder than a mask: “Grapeshot, fire!”

Demon Ongs ignited the charge, raining down a deadly firestorm upon the enemy.

…

Meanwhile, in a grass hut away from the battlefield at the Shovel Port Dock, Peter Buniel suddenly exclaimed while gnawing on fish jerky.

“What is it?” Lu Xirong asked, “Sergeant Buniel.”

Peter pointed to the silhouette on the water outside the port: “It seems like a ship is coming.”

“What?” the drowsy Monkey suddenly perked up: “A ship? Did we actually wait till one came?!”

…

And simultaneously, in the southwest, far from the battlefield, Andre, racing toward the scene, cursed aloud: “[Expletive]! Still late! Left with only scraps again! [Angry expletive]!”

In truth, he arrived early, according to the original plan, the troops capturing Shovel Port would launch a feint attack on Botar Manor at the appointed time, luring the manor’s garrison out and then collaborating with the cavalry to annihilate them — a classic Hurd trick, though coordinating with the Nulan Clock enabled synchronizing the timetable for cooperative operations down to the hour.

To ensure the plan’s success, before the feint attack, Andre’s cavalry had to remain hidden outside the patrol routes of the enemy’s cavalry scouts.

However, plans never keep pace with changes, and he was still late.

“Sir! Wait!” Tulin shouted from behind: “The rookies can’t keep up with you!”

Andre turned back to look: trailing behind him were fewer than forty subordinates, each in a sorry state. Mind you, when he left Revodan, he had gathered an entire squad.

Andre angrily hammered his thigh — the best cavalry and the best warhorses had been scavenged by that guy Winters, leaving him only some unusable rookies and idiots.