Chapter 633 Battle of Chalons 15

A torrent more than one person high surged down from the heights. This unstoppable force scattered countless Roman soldiers in the rear.

Most of them were of common origin, having grown up listening to horror stories about the Huns. They had no rigorous training and relied only on a tattered shield and a crude spear.

Such attire only makes them look more like a group of civilians with crude weapons rather than a real army.

Of course, the level they displayed was worthy of the clothes they wore and the weapons in their hands. When they formed a crooked shield wall, facing the oncoming Hun cavalry, they were naturally afraid and it was difficult for them to fight the enemy with all their heart.

The Hun cavalry rushed down like a torrent, and one field regiment after another behind Luga's army was submerged in the dust raised by the Hun cavalry's charge.

"Quick! Quick! Hold the line! Hold the line!"

Seeing that the troops of the four field regiments were disbanded in an instant, as a frontline officer, even though Andrew was seriously injured, he could not bear to see such a situation.

In front, Luga was busy commanding his troops to encircle the Hun cavalry who wanted to retreat, and his troops were braving the rain of arrows thrown at them by the Huns.

The archers under his command also drew their bows and fired back, killing a large number of lightly armored Hun cavalry archers, because their almost negligible protection could not withstand the iron-like arrows falling from the sky.

The situation on the battlefield was changing rapidly, and it could only be said that Attila controlled the very important high ground, where his soldiers were resisting the continuous attacks from Aetius's army.

Andrew walked along while enduring the severe pain. He kept patting the shoulders of the soldiers in front of him because the Hun cavalry was getting closer and closer.

"Okay, boys, hold up your weapons and let these unscrupulous guys have a taste of their power!"

The commander of the field regiment called out to the soldiers loudly, and they raised their five-meter-long spears and formed a dense formation just like the Macedonians did in the past, with their porcupine-like spear tips pointing directly at the Hun cavalry that was charging towards them.

“Stop! Stop!”

Golding saw that the situation was not good, and he hurriedly called out to the soldiers in front of him, but his voice was too small, at least amid the shouts and cries of thousands of people around him.

The spear array in front was like a cliff thousands of feet high. The Hun cavalry, who were advancing with unstoppable force, could not stop for a moment on their way to charge, and thus crashed directly into the dense spears.

The impact force almost pierced through them along with their horses. Soon, more and more Hun cavalrymen crashed into the dense spear formation.

The Hun cavalry behind hurriedly stopped, but at this time the Roman trumpeter blew the attack horn, and the Roman soldiers holding dense spears growled and strode towards the Hun cavalry in front of them.

“Back off! Back off!”

The first attack caused the Romans to lose nearly four field regiments of troops. This was already a major victory for Golding. After all, this was a large army of hundreds of thousands of people, so it was a fantasy to think that he could disintegrate the Roman army formation by relying solely on more than a thousand cavalrymen.

"We can't let them go! We can't let them go!"

Luga gritted his teeth and watched his soldiers fighting fiercely with the Hun cavalry who tried to retreat under a hail of arrows.

This group of almost desperate guys burst out with an amazing desire to survive. Even though they were exhausted, they still roared madly like desperate trapped beasts.

Even though they were covered in wounds and every time they swung their swords, drops of blood came out, they were still unable to withstand the dense stream of spears that kept stabbing at them and were knocked off their horses one after another.

Attila led his army and began to march towards the highlands. They advanced slowly and were not in a hurry to have a decisive battle with the Romans from Luga.

He knew very well that his army did not have the absolute ability to shake the Romans, at least in terms of mutual confrontation, which would take a lot of time.

Obviously, Attila could not afford to waste such time. He only wanted to gain absolute advantage in this battle, and then make the Romans and their allies bleed to death bit by bit and finally collapse.

"Hold on! Hold on!"

Theoderic rode his horse behind the battle line, moving slowly along the line, calling out to his soldiers again and again, encouraging them to pick themselves up and tenaciously fight against the tribes that were rushing up like waves.

The fallen bodies of the soldiers in the Gothic array piled up into a mountain behind the array, and the same was true for the barbarians on the opposite side.

Because Attila's vast empire brought together various Germanic tribes from the north, and they all spoke Gothic, the roars of both sides could now be heard clearly and carefully.

It was like a civil war, a war within the Germanic tribes.

"Father! Father!"

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Torrismon rode his horse in front of Theodoric and asked hurriedly, "What should we do now? After all, these damn guys in front of us are like mud that binds our hands and feet."

"So, what are you going to do, my son!" Theoderic smiled at his child, Torismon, "You are also an adult, an heir to the throne, and a warrior who can stand on your own!"

"Let me command our brave cavalry!" Torismon's eyes were firm and he looked eager to try.

"Don't be anxious, my dear child!" Theoderic smiled and patted Torismon's shoulder, his eyes full of love.

"Torisimon, look!"

Theoderic then pointed to the high ground at the other end of the battlefield, where the Romans were fighting the Huns and the battle was difficult to determine.

"Father." Torismon turned around and looked at Theodoric and asked, "Does it mean that you want me to help the Romans?"

"That's the main battlefield, Torismon. Don't forget that we are staunch allies of the Romans, at least for now!"

Theoderic looked at Thorismon, and Thorismon looked at Theoderic. At this moment, the father and son seemed to have reached a consensus.

"I trust you, my son, just as I trust my right hand. You are so reliable, my son! I will give you a team of cavalry, and then go to the Romans to help them solve this matter!"

"Leave it to me!" Torismon held Theodoric's hand tightly, his eyes determined.

(End of this chapter)