So the grenade shells provided by Iron Peak County were always bought by Mont Blanc County rchants as iron materials. Mont Blanc County once suspected that the Vinetans invented this thing just to sell iron materials at a higher price.
However, the new batch of grenades sent by Winters Montagne is clearly not the sa as the old grenades.
Lieutenant Woods returned to his frontline command center—a protruding fort converted from a sheepfold, picked up a grenade from the basket that hadn’t had the fuse inserted, and examined the dark iron shell in his hand.
Instinctively, he wanted to know what improvents the people of Iron Peak County had made to it, but he was more concerned about how to make the most of the remaining grenades.
Two "commissioned Centurions" and fourteen sergeants from the First Infantry Battalion of Mont Blanc County were urgently assembled by Woods.
"No nonsense." The lieutenant looked around at his subordinates; if the First Battalion were a human body, then the sixteen people in front of him would be the skeleton supporting it: "This new batch of grenades from Iron Peak County is a good thing, we must make full use of them. There were too many duds just now, so when you go back, cut all the grenade fuses in half."
"Sir," a commissioned Centurion replied softly, "I’m afraid it’s not an issue with the fuses. I just saw with my own eyes those guys in new uniforms stepping on the fuses to extinguish them. They’ve seen these before and know how to deal with them."
"That’s why I want you to cut the fuses in half, don’t give them ti to react." Woods thought for a mont and slapped his knee: "Let’s just do it this way—when you go back, select soldiers with quick minds and strong arms to specially handle throwing grenades. Hmm... and assign soone specifically for lighting them. One throws, one lights, so so fool doesn’t throw a grenade like a rock into the water and expect it to explode loudly."
"Yes!"
"I’ve already sent soone to find the Colonel, requesting him to collect all the grenades from the other battalions and give them to us." Woods sincerely asked his subordinates beside him: "Do you have any suggestions?"
The commissioned Centurions and sergeants looked at each other, all remaining silent because they didn’t know if they were qualified to speak.
These veteran soldiers knew all too well that the sole reason they could be promoted to sergeants or even officers was because Mont Blanc County’s forces expanded too quickly, creating a severe lack of commanders, and they had combat experience. No officer wanted to hear their opinions, and no officer wanted to see them gesticulating.
"Speak up!" Woods clapped his hands and encouraged: "Don’t be afraid!"
"Commander." A sergeant mustered up courage and spoke, pointing to the east: "The musketeers across the river are increasing, and our n are already suppressed to the point where they can barely lift their heads."
While speaking, the lead bullets fired from the opposite bank hit the wall beside them, continually making "thud, thud" sounds.
The sergeant suggested: "The musketeers from Thunder Group County are just idling in the back, can we have them co over and help?"
Woods weighed the proposal for a mont and nodded: "Alright. Anyone else? Don’t you have anything to say?"
"At this rate of expenditure, the gunpowder will run out sooner or later," another commissioned Centurion croaked: "It’s best to prepare more now. When the Colonel starts fighting, I’m afraid no one will look after us."
"Indeed." Woods pondered: "But, we need to find a safe place to store the gunpowder."
"How about the church in the village center? It’s sturdy there."
Woods was about to agree, but thought better and shook his head: "No, let’s choose another place."
The commissioned Centurions and sergeants, emboldened, each proposed different locations.
Woods was just about to make a decision when he heard Erno’s terrified shout from inside the protruding fort: "They’re coming again! Sir! Lots of them!"
On the east bank of the naless river, flags erged from the dissipating smoke.
Accompanied by deafening drumming, hundreds of soldiers in light brown uniforms carrying siege engines, surged towards the small high ground where River Valley Village was located, like waves over a dyke from three directions.
Woods looked up at the sky; the sun hung high in the air, coldly observing the tragedy of humans.
"They’re coming again, of course they’re coming again." Woods muttered to himself: "It’s far from over."
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