Chapter 361 The Romance of the Poet (Third update, please subscribe)
God will certainly not bless the Argentines!
On December 1, 1869, the final battle for Buenos Aires began. Unlike in the past, this day the war began without the roar of heavy artillery, but with bombing.
That morning, the South China Army dispatched sixteen airships, which flew directly to the rear and bombed the military stations where the Argentines stored their supplies. Although the bombing did not cause too many casualties, it destroyed a large amount of supplies and a large amount of weapons and ammunition were destroyed in the bombing.
The pattern of war has been rewritten once again, but that doesn't matter.
The battle began on this day!
As in the past, at 10 o'clock in the morning that day, the first fire was the cannon!
In the "Argentina Campaign", the most trustworthy weapons for the soldiers were always the artillery cannons. As soon as the battle started, each cannon had to fire 20 to 30 rounds of ammunition during the artillery preparation. They fired rapidly and continuously. As a result, the barrels of many mortars turned red. Soldiers even had to urinate on the barrels to cool them down in order to maintain the firing rate.
In contrast, even the most sturdy and strong loader would have his arms so sore that he could not straighten them after loading dozens of bullets in a row, so he had to replace the loader in the middle of the process.
"Five rapid shots!"
At the squad leader's shout, the newly replaced loaders immediately loaded the shells and stuffed them into the muzzle. The moment the shells fell into the barrel, they flew out with a "bang".
Almost at the moment when the shell flew out, the loader, who bent down to avoid the noise and smoke from the muzzle, picked up the shell again and stuffed it directly into the muzzle, and the shell flew out again. In just six or seven seconds, the artillerymen fired a rapid shot with the 120mm mortar.
In this era, such a firing rate is simply a miracle. This is why the South China Army likes mortars, because the firing rate of those recoil-mounted field artillery is shockingly slow. Even the latest recoil-mounted and rear-loading artillery can only fire three to five shells a minute at most. But mortars are different. A 100mm mortar can even fire more than 20 shells a minute.
And such rapid shooting is not without cost. After firing a rapid shot, the squad leader shouted.
"Quick, clean the cannon."
Cleaning cannon means wiping the barrel with the sticky gun, which cools the barrel and cleans the gunpowder residue in the barrel.
In order to lower the temperature of the gun barrel as quickly as possible, the squad leader even took off his pants and urinated on the gun barrel. In the rising steam, the temperature of the gun barrel dropped rapidly.
Compared with the mortar, the more shocking is the Type 68 mortar. Although it has a short range and is even called "rabbit's leg" in the South China Army, it is definitely the responsibility of the South China artillery firepower. The concentrated fire of dozens of Type 68 mortars is still as earth-shaking as in the past. Every violent explosion can directly blow up trenches and bunkers within a radius of dozens of meters.
The weather is clear today with extremely high visibility. From the artillery positions, one can even see the outer positions of the Argentine army with the naked eye. The Argentine army's positions are completely engulfed in fire and smoke. The successive explosions of smoke are like the breath of death, whistling and lifting the earth. In the violent explosion, the Argentine soldiers hiding in the trenches were all screaming in fear, and countless people were buried alive.
“God, please bless your people, all the glory belongs to you!”
Hidalgo, curled up in the trench, kept screaming. He never thought that one day his hand that held the pen would take up weapons. As a poet, he had just made his mark in the literary world of Buenos Aires, but the sudden outbreak of war changed everything.
Like many others, he was drafted into the army, given a Revolutionary War rifle with a rotten stock, and sent to the battlefield like everyone else.
There are many people like him, including painters, musicians, lawyers, and even university professors. How can people like them go to the front line?
Right here, accompanied by an explosion, Hidalgo suddenly felt a shudder all over his body. It was a shudder of fear - he saw half of a body falling in front of him. Although the man was blown beyond recognition, the half glasses hanging on his face allowed Hidalgo to recognize him as this person.
It was Karl Alt, the high school teacher from Poznan, East Prussia. They had been chatting together just this morning, but now only half of his body was left.
"Oh my god, this damn war..."
Hidalgo suddenly cursed the war loudly. In his opinion, this war was no longer a war to defend Argentina's freedom and dignity, but was entirely caused by the ambitions of the big landowners.
"Oh God, curse those greedy people. It is them who have brought humanity to destruction. It is their greed that has destroyed everything in the world. My God..."
Hidalgo was hiding from the gunfire, roaring in anger, with only boundless despair in his heart. When the ground was shaking in the gunfire, he realized for the first time that he was a coward. He was afraid of death.
Once upon a time, he thought he was a brave man. When he received the call-up order, he passionately told his friends and lover who came to see him off with money that he would shed his last drop of blood on the battlefield, and that it would all be worth it to defend Argentina.
But what about now?
Hidalgo found that there was only one thought left in his mind - to leave this damn place. He wanted to survive, he didn't want to die on the battlefield and be blown to pieces by artillery shells.
"God bless me, God bless me..."
Hidalgo cried and prayed. If he could choose again, he would never go to the front line again. Even if there were lovers looking at him with admiration, what was the point?
Once you die, you will have nothing.
"Christina...I'm really not that brave..."
Hidalgo's mind conjured up the woman he had long coveted, the most famous actress in all of Buenos Aires and a very brave woman who, in the old days, had performed for the soldiers on the front lines.
Once upon a time, he had hoped to win her favor by performing bravely on the battlefield. After all, a brave woman like her would definitely like warriors.
But what about now?
He realized that he was stupid. If he died here, he would have nothing left. Even if Christina shed tears at his funeral, what was the point?
In the end, maybe it would only take a month or even less. She would forget him, and then she would lie in the arms of another man, and continue her life, and she would not even think of him in the days to come...
"I'm such a fool."
While Hidalgo was cursing his own stupidity in his heart, the bombardment of the South China army seemed to become more intense, and their cannons seemed to wipe out everything from this world.
Hidalgo, like everyone else, could only scream under such heavy fire...
Just as the Argentines were screaming and dodging the artillery fire in the trenches, the soldiers in the trenches began to charge. They jumped out of the trenches and walked in the burned wheat fields and charred fields. Lines of gray-green skirmishers advanced towards the Argentine trenches, and thousands of bayonets flashed cold light in the sun.
Behind the skirmish line, the machine gunners pushing the gun carriages were either carrying shoulder straps, towing the gun carriages, or pushing the gun wheels. The Type 68 six-barreled Gatling machine gun was much lighter than the Type 62, and the gun carriage weighed only over 200 kilograms, making it possible for it to accompany infantry attacks in field conditions.
Almost as soon as the machine gun team advanced to a distance of only three or four hundred meters from the front line, the artillery fire began to extend to the rear. Although the Argentine trenches were still shrouded in smoke, there seemed to be some movement over there.
"shot!"
After the machine gunner turned the crank, it turned almost half a circle, and the machine guns started to cheer. Dozens of machine guns fired rain of bullets at the Argentine army's defense line. Under the intensive fire suppression, the Argentines who had just recovered from the artillery fire had no chance to show their heads. Even some of them were driven by officers to stand on the shooting platform. As soon as they showed their heads, they were smashed in the head by 9mm bullets, and their brains flew everywhere. The Argentines in the trenches were all shocked.
Many of them were even holding old-fashioned muzzle-loading rifles, and they might even be the Gebess rifles that were converted into percussion rifles and left over from the Revolutionary War. When had I ever seen such dense firepower?
Under the suppression of machine gun fire, they dared not raise their heads and could only let the rain of bullets sweep across the trenches.
Taking advantage of the opportunity when the Argentines were suppressed by machine gun fire, the attacking infantry strode forward. Although the Argentine army also fought back with mortars and heavy artillery in the rear, their firepower was obviously not comparable to that of the South Chinese army. Although the mortar shells that fell from time to time could cause some casualties, they could not stop the South Chinese army.
When they approached the Argentine trenches, the soldiers in the front threw a grenades into the trenches. After the violent explosion, the soldiers rushed forward like wolves and tigers. The Argentines who were dizzy from the explosion had their bayonets pierced into their chests before they could react.
The South China Army rushed in like a vicious tiger pouncing on a flock of sheep, and stabbed the Argentine soldiers in the trenches like a tiger rushing into a flock of sheep. No matter whether they were soldiers from other provinces or the poorly trained defense team, they were no match for them.
Amid horrifying shouts, one Argentine soldier after another fell to the bayonets. Many raised their hands in terror, but could not stop the bayonets from piercing their chests.
But all this had nothing to do with Hidalgo. In the explosion of the grenade, he was buried directly under the soil...
(End of this chapter)
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