Chapter 1212: 29. Great Alliance Moves Forward (14)_2

The three cavalry squads were merged into a large column, positioned behind even the infantry. No silhouettes could be seen on the saddles; the riders had dismounted and were resting.

The formation of the “Sixth Legion” indicated they had no intention of attacking, and the Mont Blanc County troops before them were already in a defensive stance.

The musketeers on both sides used the river dike as cover to shoot, and the surface of the water was enveloped in gun smoke. However, the right wing of the Alliance and the left wing of the Grand Council’s army both halted at the riverbank, with neither daring to cross the river first.

While fierce battles erupted at River Valley Village and the northern battlefield, the southern battlefield was locked in stalemate, quickly draining both armies of gunpowder, lead bullets, and patience.

Colonel Bod took a deep breath. He could already see Sanel’s deployment clearly.

Surveying the overall situation, the enemy’s right wing was primarily composed of the “restructured New Reclamation Legion,” accompanied by three cavalry squads and all the heavy cannons;

The enemy’s “Sixth Legion” sent five infantry battalions to the left wing, complemented by the remaining three cavalry squads;

Finally, Sanel placed four elite infantry battalions of the “New Reclamation Expeditionary Army” at the center of the battlefield–the most valuable spoils he reserved for himself.

Thus, the large battlefield was divided into three parts: south, north, and the village.

The northern battlefield was currently in fierce combat with no definitive outcome;

The midsection around River Valley Village was littered with corpses, and a new round of confrontation was imminent;

Only the southern battlefield remained in a standoff, with both sides occupying one side of the riverbank, and neither initiating an attack.

However, each battlefield was far from isolated islands. Colonel Bod’s sight returned to the immediate vicinity:

As “hedgehogs” crushed each other in the northern wheat fields, a unit from the enemy’s right wing seized the opportunity to penetrate the connecting area between the north battlefield and River Valley Village, attempting to split the Alliance’s left wing and central forces.

The sole bridge across the river had been blown up and burned by the defending forces, causing substantial trouble for this enemy unit.

The soldiers in brown uniforms had to wade through the river and climb the steep riverbank by hand, slowing their crossing speed severely.

The two hundred-men squads that first reached the west bank boldly launched a charge towards River Valley Village.

But their hasty attack was repelled by the Second Battalion of Thunder Group County infantry, which had retreated to River Valley Village, leaving behind more than twenty corpses on the road and in the farmhouses.

Colonel Bod witnessed the Thunder Group County soldiers retreating after repelling the enemy, hiding behind walls, exchanging gunfire with brown-clad soldiers concealed under the road embankment on the other side. A sense of indescribable desolation surged through his heart.

If it were any of the former Paratu Standing Army captains–even the most mediocre–none would defend so passively. They would surely seize the opportunity of the enemy’s faltering attack, move offensively, and drive the reckless enemy down the riverbank.

“Go ask Lieutenant Zoboyao!” Colonel Bod grabbed the messenger, pointed with his mutilated arm at the provincial road outside the village, suppressing his anger as he ordered, “Go ask him! Ask him what exactly he’s waiting for? The enemy to gather?!”

The messenger dared not delay, turned around, squeezed past another messenger inside the stairwell, and dashed down the tower steps with a “thud, thud, thud, thud.”

“Go find Captain Luosong!” Colonel Bod grabbed another messenger, waving his stump between the cavalry waiting in the west of the village and the enemy forces to the north: “If the enemy troops outside the village are repelled, have him deploy Riverside County cavalry to support, but under no circumstances should they cross the river to pursue!”

The second messenger saluted and disappeared at the end of the stairs in a blink.

Footsteps sounded urgently below again, and a soldier, his face covered in soot and blood, appeared at the entry of the platform: “Sir, Lieutenant…lieutenant asks you to evacuate immediately.”

Bod turned his head, briefly paused his gaze on the soldier, then quickly refocused on the ongoing battle in the northern battlefield: “Have the wounded been evacuated?”

The soldier thought for a moment before understanding the colonel’s question, hurriedly answering, “They’ve all been hauled away, while the cannon did not blast us, they were loaded onto vehicles and taken away.”

“Tell Lieutenant Woods to hold his position.” Colonel Bod’s gaze never left the northern fields as he coldly provided a response: “I will also hold my position. Just let him know, now go.”

The soldier nodded heavily, muttering the colonel’s words as he ran down the stairs.

Bod stood by the window watching the soldier leave the church, head towards the riverbank, then heard a series of hoofbeats approaching from outside the village.

Soon, the muted sounds of “thud, thud, thud, thud” resounded once more beneath the colonel’s feet.

Ascending the bell tower this time was not a messenger but a junior officer. Compared to the messengers running between River Valley Village and the northern battlefield, the junior officer’s uniform was pristine.

The junior officer raised a hand to salute while panting, and anxiously sought instructions: “Sir! Colonel Gaisa requests to launch an attack.”

Bod leaned against the window frame, silently observing the battlefield south of the village.

The junior officer did not dare to make a sound, nor to breathe heavily, as he stood in the staircase, awaiting the colonel’s decision.

“Attack.” Colonel Bod silently chewed over this word, weighing the pros and cons repeatedly.

Sanel clenched both fists but exposed his vulnerable chest.

For this formation with strong wings and a weak center, it’s essential to concentrate all cavalry and launch an assault from the elevated area of River Valley Village. First, rout the New Reclamation Expeditionary Army in the midsection of the battlefield, then slice through the enemy’s left and right wings. If one wing can be decisively destroyed, the other wing will crumble automatically.

But a battle never unfolds strictly according to plan, nor does it develop according to the participants’ wishes. It’s like a raging bull, always struggling to throw the rider from its back, while trampling the rider’s knees and thighs.

“Cannons, cannons, cannons…” Colonel Bod turned to look northeast toward the artillery positions.

The appearance of the cannons altered the balance of power, stripping the Three County Alliance of its tactical advantage as defenders–without exaggeration, it changed everything.

Sanel positioned the cannons atop a mound on the opposite bank, the second highest point in the battlefield, overlooking the eastern and northern fields of the village.

If the Alliance cavalry attacks the New Reclamation Expeditionary Army from River Valley Village, their flanks will be swept by hail-like grape shot;

If the Alliance cavalry appears in the north battlefield, they too will be met by deathly rains from the high ground across the river;

Before the enemy brought the cannons onto the battlefield, the Three County Alliance’s primary task was to achieve victory;

After the enemy brought the cannons in, the Three County Alliance’s urgent task became destroying the cannons–before being shattered by artillery fire.

The dilemma that tormented every commander throughout history now agonizes Bod Gates’ soul.

When Sanel deployed heavy forces on the enemy’s right wing, the pre-war “left hook” plan was already defeated.

Even if Skul could repel the enemy facing them, with reserves maintained by the enemy’s right wing, it would be challenging to seize the artillery positions.

Contrary to pre-war expectations, only the enemy’s left wing, composed of half the “Sixth Legion,” was the thinnest link in the enemy’s battle line and the only battlefield where the Alliance might hold a manpower advantage.

“Was my strategy wrong?” Bod pondered repeatedly: “Should I change the ‘left hook’ to a ‘right hook’?”

Yet he recalled Sanel’s smile at the corner of his eye, and his past acts of cunning and risk-taking. He couldn’t help but question: “Is there something I’ve overlooked? Is Sanel’s strategy really as it appears? Am I stepping into his trap?”

No one could provide him with the answer.

Because holding the lives of thousands of soldiers in hand and leading them into an uncertain future is the mission of a military commander.

No one could bear this responsibility for Bod Gates, and Bod Gates had to be responsible for the lives and deaths of all, for the wins and losses of this battle, and even for the earthquakes and tsunamis the battle’s outcome would provoke.

Step wrong, and be crushed.

The church bell rang loudly, startling the Mont Blanc County junior officer waiting for orders.

Bod turned around, tightly gripping the end of his mutilated arm, with flames burning fiercely in his eyes.

“I have made my decision,” the colonel said.

The junior officer’s heels instinctively clicked together, standing up straight.

“Order–Colonel Gais Adonis, with the force of three battalions, spearhead an assault on the enemy’s east bank.” Colonel Bod paused, then turned to fix his gaze on the eight heavy cannons entrenched on the mound across the river: “Order–Captain Luosong to prepare for a full attack on the enemy artillery positions.”