Chapter 648 Battle of Chalons 30
The scene of the Huns' retreat was grand and spectacular. Even the barbarian vassal troops who were still resisting hard lost the reason to continue fighting, and they retreated from the battlefield one after another.
Barbarians from the Far North, bugs from the wasteland. Yes, all the dirty words that could describe the barbarians were always uttered when the Romans won a great victory.
Not only the Romans, but even the Germans in the Roman army casually said to their fleeing compatriots, no, they were not compatriots. After all, the Germans serving in the Roman army were civilized people, not barbarians who liked onions all day long.
The cavalry under Attila fled and eventually used the advantage of their horses' four legs to force a crossing of the Marne River. However, the infantry who were left behind were in a miserable state. They became the targets of hunting by the Roman and Visigoth cavalry, and were even more like living targets for the archers of the two armies.
The road of escape was littered with corpses. Usually in a battle, the casualties when fleeing far outweigh the losses when stopping to fight. That is so, after all, hunting is always unscrupulous, the more the better, while confrontation is not like that, after all, the enemy also has sharp spears and sturdy shields.
The most tragic scene was the process of the defeated soldiers forcing their way across the Marne River. There were hundreds of thousands of people crossing the river, but only a few boats were available.
Driven by the desire to survive, they had to take off their armor, throw away their shields, spears and other weapons, just to be able to swim faster in the water.
It is hard to imagine what a spectacular scene it was when hundreds of thousands of people forced their way across the Marne River. All you could see was the river being densely packed with people, all scrambling to swim to the other side of the river.
On the river bank, more people were taking off their armor, ready to push aside the people in front of them and jump into the river.
Thorismon came with his Gothic cavalry. He was like the god of death, representing the god of death or incarnating the god of death. He was seen commanding the cavalry present to charge towards the barbarian army that was preparing to cross the river.
The defenseless barbarian army was instantly knocked away by the rushing war horses and fell into the river screaming.
The relentless Goths wielded their iron swords and battle axes, hacking down the unarmed barbarian soldiers one after another to death in a pool of blood.
They had no mercy at all, and their red eyes showed that all they wanted at that moment was killing. The devil Satan dominated them, and Pluto Harris became their accomplice.
Yes, the gods want to reap souls, but they cannot reveal their true forms and can only rely on mortal hands to satisfy their desire for killing.
Luga killed Golding, Attila's most trusted noble general. He cut off Golding's head and hung it on the eagle flag, which made all the Hun soldiers who tried to take up arms to resist give up the idea of a final struggle.
The Roman archers and the Visigoth archers gathered together, drew their bows and arrows, and joined the cavalry in front in this wanton killing.
"boom!"
The sound of thousands of bowstrings exploded like a thunder, and the arrows flying into the sky covered the sky and fell on the crowded river surface.
The screams of people were like the River Styx in hell. People who were injured by arrows kept crying and staying where they were. The pain made their bodies sink and they soon drowned.
"Kill! Kill these uncivilized barbarians!"
The crushing massacre would make any prudent commander unable to resist becoming radical. Yes, to beat the enemy while he is down. Once you win, you must do as much massacre as possible to weaken the enemy's strength.
Torismon, Andrew, and even Aetius were standing on the south side of the river bank which was littered with corpses, pointing at the people in the river and shouting loudly. There was not a single sympathy on their faces. They did not accept the tragedy before them. They only wanted to kill, kill all the living things in front of them and leave the fear to the survivors who came ashore.
Dusk, and dusk again. The battle started in the morning and ended at dusk. The whole day was spent on it. Of course, those who participated in the war probably didn't know that this battle was enough to be remembered by future generations.
There were so many corpses floating on the river and on the river bank that it was difficult to tell where the river was and where the land was.
Luca knelt on the land beside the river which had long been soaked into mud by blood, holding the broken fragments of the Spear of Longnukis in his hand, and looked at the corpse floating in the river in front of him.
He was thirsty, very thirsty, so he looked at the river in front of him.
The river water had turned blood red, with corpses of the recently dead floating on it.
He pursed his cracked lips, lowered his head, scooped up a handful of blood with both hands, and thought about it, as if he had made mental preparations for everything.
In the end, it was the physical torture that overcame his mental rejection. He gritted his teeth, raised his head, and drank the blood in his hand.
The taste of blood in his mouth was like a reckless child, running back and forth in his mouth. He felt very bad, but he still forced himself to swallow it, suppressing his nausea. But at this moment, his stomach churned, and it seemed that his stomach was also rejecting it. Finally, Luca couldn't bear it anymore.
"Woo"
An irresistible force surged up from his stomach, and Luga finally couldn't help bending over and retching. He hadn't eaten for a day, and apart from a little bloody sour water, he really had nothing else to vomit out.
"Give."
At this time, I only saw a hand beside me handing over a relatively clean handkerchief. It was really rare to find an object that was not stained with blood here.
On the way back, Luca saw the soldiers who had been fighting for a day, both healthy and injured, lying on the river bank and drinking river water.
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It was hard to imagine that the river water had been dyed red by the blood flowing from the corpses. They drank the river water as if they were drinking blood. When they were thirsty to a certain extent, they finally decided to drink the blood-like river water in big gulps.
"They will die if they do this." Luca raised his head and pointed at the soldiers who were drinking river water in big gulps and said to Andrew: "Hurry up, stop them."
"It's too late, Caesar."
Unexpectedly, Andrew did not rush to execute Luca's order. He just held Luca's hand and said to him: "If they don't drink the water, they will die. Besides, Caesar, you didn't drink it either."
Luga stopped talking. It seemed that he had figured it out. Looking at these soldiers who were not afraid of feeling sick, they had indeed overcome the obstacles in their hearts. Drinking water like this would be worse than lying on the corpse and drinking the enemy's blood. It was just as disgusting anyway.
"They are all warriors." Luga murmured, but he decided not to say anything and returned to the carriage with the help of the guards.
However, he never expected that Torismon and his guards had been waiting in front of the carriage for a long time.
Seeing Luca covered in blood, and looking exhausted and haggard from overexertion, Torismon's expression was first anger, then surprise, and then serious, and even awe.
"Welcome, son of Theoderic." Luca forced a smile towards Torismon.
"Yes, Caesar, I didn't expect that you would personally participate in the battle." Torismon bowed slightly to Luca, his words full of disbelief.
"A commander should live and die with his soldiers. The battle made me forget my identity as Augustus. I am just a commander." Luca smiled, but he never thought how much shock his words would bring to the Goth in front of him.
Haha, the long Battle of Chalons is over. Sorry, the scene did not meet my expectations.
(End of this chapter)