"Sir... we can't hold on any longer."
On the northern battlefield, beneath a half-collapsed fortification, Lieutenant Colonel Percy collapsed to the ground, exhausted after firing all the bullets in his gun, letting out a weak groan. Beside him, bullets from an overturned ammunition box were scattered all over the ground, but he had no energy left to pick them up and reload.
"Get up, you bastard!" Unlike Percy, Commander Mark was crouching on the ground frantically picking up bullets, but the long battle had made his exposed hands numb with cold, and bullets kept falling from his hands.
"Bang bang bang!"
Mark managed to grab a few bullets, but the bullets kept hitting the rocks nearby with a bang, though he didn't care.
The intense fighting throughout the night had numbed Mark's mind and body, so even though a bullet was right next to him and danger was imminent, he still stood upright, raised his rifle, and stuffed the bullet he had just picked up back into the barrel, repeating this mechanical and stiff action that he had done hundreds of times.
With the help of the long stick, the bullet was finally inserted. He then quickly opened the medicine chamber, puffed out his cheeks, and blew away the remaining ash. Ashes flew out of the small medicine chamber, blinding Mark and choking him. He coughed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.
However, the moment the dirty fingers entered his eyes, he felt a burning pain, and tears almost uncontrollably welled up in his eyes. Mark gritted his teeth and endured the pain to barely open his misty eyes.
"Sir, they're here..." At that moment, Lieutenant Colonel Percy, still sitting on the ground, said softly.
Mark didn't have time to turn his head to look at him; instead, he quickly peered out through the gaps in the collapsed bunker.
An enemy detachment was rapidly approaching this direction, carrying rifles. No, not just one, but many detachments. Enemy figures appeared from all directions and in many places, and they were advancing quickly.
"You bastards!"
Mark was furious. Despite the pain in his arm, he raised his gun and aimed at the advancing enemy soldiers through the gap.
But before he could fire, three consecutive shots rang out beside him.
A meter and a half away, Percy, sitting behind the collapsed bunker, didn't even have time to scream before his head lolled to the side and he died from a bullet. A large patch of blood stained the rocks behind his head, and beside him, countless corpses lay scattered about, some even covered with a thin layer of snow.
Mark had no time to grieve for the death of yet another comrade. With the defenses almost completely breached, all he wanted to do was kill as many enemies as possible.
Mark pulled the trigger in less than two seconds, because there were so many enemies that precise aiming was no longer necessary.
After pulling the trigger, Mark didn't hear the sound of a bullet leaving the barrel. He frantically pulled the trigger a few more times, but still no bullet was fired.
"Damn it!" he cursed angrily, only then remembering that he hadn't refilled the gunpowder room, so he hurriedly bent down to take out gunpowder from his bag.
"Bang bang bang!"
Another crisp three-shot burst rang out. Mark, who was still retrieving gunpowder, leaned back and slammed heavily against the rock behind him. He stared wide-eyed at his chest as blood slowly stained his filthy uniform, and even the medal of honor hanging on his right breast was shattered.
With a "bang," the gun fell from Mark's hand, and he knelt on the ground, blood dripping from his open mouth. He stared blankly at the fragments of his medal lying in the pool of blood.
A gust of wind suddenly blew past him, followed by a loud "thump" as someone flipped over a rock and stepped on his back.
Trampled to the ground, Mark's face was pressed against a pool of blood, shards of broken medals piercing his cheeks, adding to the pain.
He struggled to turn his face, which was slashed by medals, and in the fading peripheral vision, he saw the enemy's face clearly for the first time at close range.
The enemy's face was indifferent, seemingly devoid of any expression. He showed neither the joy of capturing the position nor any excessive anger; his calm demeanor made it seem as if he were not even engaged in battle.
"Bastard..." Mark murmured as he lay dying, trying to curse, but then a dark gun barrel was pointed at his face.
——
"boom!"
The stone wall, under the constant bombardment, finally gave way and collapsed instantly. The Golgar soldiers behind the wall were knocked down by the falling rocks and cried out in agony amidst the rubble. More rocks rolled down the slope, knocking down some of the Yan soldiers who were advancing.
However, this small-scale ambush could not stop their advance. The Yan soldiers, carrying light artillery on their shoulders, aimed at the enemy's topmost artillery emplacement. With a hiss, the fuse was lit, and instantly, more than a dozen shells were fired from several directions.
The next moment, the forts on the south side of the pass were finally destroyed, leaving only two. Inside one of the forts, Colonel Wilkie, covered in dust and dirt, looked at the scene of war raging around him and felt a sense of despair.
Many fortifications were destroyed, and many lines of defense were taken over by the enemy. As far as the eye could see, there were corpses everywhere, and most of them were enemy soldiers. Despite this, enemy troops continued to rush in. By this point, the entire southern defense line had almost completely fallen.
"Sir! General Parker has been killed in action! What should we do now?" In the trench connecting the various gun emplacements, a soldier covered in blood staggered toward Wilkie, shouting loudly.
Upon hearing that Commander Pact had also been killed in action, Wilkie was devastated and lost all will to fight. Although Pact had said that he would defend the position to the death, even if it meant dying here, now that he was dead and the defense line was about to collapse, what was the point of holding on?
Finally, fear took over, and Wilkie broke down, shouting, "Retreat!"
After the order to retreat was given, some of the remaining soldiers in the various fortifications immediately began to retreat, while others continued to fight, because the order could not be transmitted to every place at that moment, and the defensive line had been cut into pieces.
The source of the defeat and collapse can be traced back to 6:30. At that moment, the enemy suddenly intensified their offensive, and shortly afterward, urgent reports came from the front lines that the rear was under attack. After that, after Pact urgently dispatched people back to reinforce the defense, the front had to bear even greater pressure, while the enemy's offensive became more and more fierce. In just half an hour, they broke through multiple lines of defense in succession.
Just after seven o'clock, the troops that had been transferred back to defend the front line returned, but it was too late.
The defense line had been breached in several places, and the enemy troops that had entered the inner line were tearing the gaps wider and wider. As a result, the situation deteriorated further, and by this moment, just after 7:30, the entire line had almost collapsed.
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