Craters dotted the battlefield in countless numbers, varying in size. The heavily deford trenches intertwined like a thread, stringing so of the craters together to resemble a pearl necklace when viewed from above.
Within this necklace of craters, an uncountable number of soldiers huddled, bracing for the impact of large-caliber shells that pounded the ground near them.
With each explosion, the earth beside them quivered, followed by falling mud and stones that clattered against their helt rims.
Most of these soldiers were not wearing steel helts, but rather caps with visors; they carried canvas ammunition pouches at their sides, filled with bullets.
As shells fell on both sides of their position, nurous fragnts rained down, and the smoke raised by the blasts blanketed the sky, giving the battlefield the appearance of the end of the world.
The bombardnt from large-caliber heavy artillery was terrifying for every soldier. Each firing of these 200 milliter, or even 300 milliter, heavy guns carried with them the force of utter annihilation.
In just two days, the Gobur Kingdom had poured 10,000 large-caliber shells onto the border, Shireck's 130 milliter howitzers hamring Dorne Kingdom's positions as if they cost nothing.
Each shell explosion in the mud created a massive crater; due to the high density of craters, so overlapped, turning the earlier craters into crescents with successive blasts.
Along the edges of these craters were the corpses of Gobur soldiers as well as those from the Dorne Kingdom, so torn to shreds by the bombardnt, others still intact.
Many soldiers were mutilated beyond recognition, their remaining halves missing arms or legs, while ragged uniforms hung from the twisted barbed wire, and deford Shireck rifles and S3 rifles were scattered everywhere.
In these days, no one dared waste precious troops by pouring more into this death-ridden battlefield.
Everyone hid in trenches, using their rear cannons to "greet" the enemy's ancestors from afar.
Now, it was the Gobur Kingdom's cannons that roared, hundreds of guns firing in succession, sending their shells near the trench positions of the Dorne Kingdom.
Amidst the artillery fire, on the Dorne Kingdom defense line, in the middle of a trench, an officer sat yawning in a chair inside a command post reinforced with concrete.
In reality, during such tis, it was unthinkable for the enemy to charge to their death, so his remaining here was akin to being "on duty."
The command post had a ter-thick layer of concrete overhead, which offered safety unless hit directly by a shell.
Because it was relatively safe, many supplies were stored here, and in so cool corners even hunks of dried at were hanging.
Empty ammunition boxes were filled with various canned goods. As this was a place reserved for officers, the setup was noticeably more casual.
A makeshift table of neatly stacked ammunition boxes was covered with a map of the war zone, with an iron cup and gas lamp placed carelessly on top.
A gasoline engine chugged away ceaselessly, its clamor blending in with the thunder of artillery without seeming too jarring.
The engine drove a generator that spun tirelessly, supplying an unstable stream of electricity to the working light bulbs and the telegraph machine.
It was dayti, and the noise from the artillery made the generator's operation feasible. At night, the area relied on gas lamps for illumination or simply went dark.
After all, noise and light could attract enemy artillery; staying hidden was the golden rule for surviving longer on the battlefield.
"Report!" A non-commissioned officer with a briefcase squeezed into the command post, shook off the mud from his clothes, stood at attention, saluted, and handed the file to the duty officer: "Sir! This is the patrol report from the 2nd and 3rd Regints."
To confirm their own troops' combat effectiveness and have a better understanding of the soldiers under their command, regular patrol inspections were essential.
Particularly under conditions of being shelled for hours every day, maintaining morale was an imperative task for every commander.
The officer on duty took the report, glanced at a few figures, then flipped to the previous day's report for comparison, and subsequently signed his na on the new report.
The data from the two inspections showed little change, which was good news for him: this ant that the enemy hadn't mounted a significant attack the previous day, and their own side hadn't attacked the enemy positions either. Read exclusive chapters at My Virtual Library Empire
Since each assault would cost the enemy at least 1,000 n, and their counterattacks would result in roughly the sa number of casualties, the absence of such high loss figures indicated that no major offensive or counter-offensive had occurred—a piece of good news.
"When will our artillery counterattack comnce?" Having signed his na, the officer put down his pen and asked.
The non-commissioned officer stood at attention once again, then responded, "Report, sir! According to the plan, our artillery fire will comnce in half an hour."
"Will the infantry participate in the counterattack?" the duty officer asked once more, inquiring of the ssage-bearing non-commissioned officer.
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