Iron Cross Fire

Instantly, hundreds of shells fell from the sky, covering the ground like raindrops, raising dust and taking away soil, leaving potholes on the ground.

The French fortress was blown up even more horribly, with all the openings collapsed and the people inside crushed to death.

Even more unfortunate, the entire fortress collapsed, and hundreds of people who had not yet woken up were crushed to death, with their bodies and wreckage fused together. The only way to describe the extent of this battle is tragic.

Continuous artillery fire hit the French positions, and the smoke became thicker and thicker, covering the ground, and even Kuster, who was at the forefront of the river bank, could hardly see clearly.

He guessed that the French might not be able to see themselves clearly.

After watching several suicide squad members swimming on the water reach the other side, he saw them bare-chested with bullets and bayonets to open up a path for life.

As the firepower on the other side weakened, Kuster was sure that they had succeeded, so he ordered his men to quickly build a pontoon bridge and slightly reduce the bombing.

But when he vaguely saw the outline of a machine gun from the French position, he couldn't sit still.

"Hurry up and let the machine gunner fire, it doesn't matter where you shoot, as long as you suppress them!"

Kust said anxiously. Obviously he was worried about the machine gun, even though the battlefield was full of fog and both sides could hardly distinguish between the enemy and us.

However, the transmission of verbal information was ultimately not as fast as the flying of bullets. Before the messenger took a few steps, a series of rapid and terrifying whistling sounds that cut through the sky came from the other side.

Fortunately, the fog was hazy and the machine guns on the opposite side were difficult to hit.

Kuster couldn't see the movements of the French army and the death squad, let alone whether they were suppressed, so he could only pray for their good luck.

The successive artillery fire gradually covered the roar of the machine gun, but it didn't stop for long before the sound of machine guns came again from the original place.

Even if there was no sound of machine guns in the original position, there would always be inexplicably more similar sounds in other places to fill these gaps.

Custer had to admire the French, and his admiration arose spontaneously in his heart. It was their blood that bought precious time, but that was the end.

He looked back at the river, and the floating bridge was almost built.

Although the quality was extremely poor, it was just a few simple rafts connected together. If you stepped on it, your feet would be soaked by water, and even without external force, it would move back and forth, making it hard to believe whether it could be crossed.

But it was enough to be able to pass, and there were not many requirements.

The rest of the death squads quickly gathered and dispersed in front of the floating bridge, divided into several groups and crossed the floating bridge separately.

Each group had dozens of people, and the weight made the extremely simple floating bridge unbearable. The rafts that originally seemed to have a shallow draft shifted downward a lot, and even the ankles were submerged in the water.

There were about twelve groups back and forth, and the floating bridge finally couldn't bear the weight, and a connection collapsed, breaking in the river from the center.

The remaining people couldn't get through, so Kuster asked them to wait for the new pontoon bridge to be built, and to use machine guns on the shore to support the friendly troops who had crossed the river in front.

After Kuster greeted them, he focused his eyes on the other side of the river where the gunfire continued.

The smoke gradually dissipated, and he was able to see the scene behind him.

There was only one word to describe the position after the bombing: inhumane.

There were incomplete corpses everywhere, which was still good, Kuster could still see clearly that they looked like people.

There were more pieces of meat that were shattered into pieces by the explosion, mixed in the mud and blurred, and only the bright blood exposed outside could prove that they were not livestock to be slaughtered.

There were also incomplete human internal organs that were blown to pieces, and an indescribable complex stench lingered over the position, and the surviving soldiers had to cover their mouths and noses and continue to fight.

After a brief count, the shelling killed at least 400 people.

But Kuster didn't think so. There were at least 20,000 Frenchmen here. Except for the more than 10,000 who were still resisting and those who were definitely dead, the rest might have been crushed to dust. The white mist floating in the sky might be their corpses.

To achieve such an achievement, we have to mention the huge cannon behind us.

Kuster frowned and looked back, looking at the turbid night sky with complicated eyes. The sky, which was brilliant and gorgeous a few hours ago, has now been ground into a terrifying deep black by endless artillery fire.

He drew out the saber at his waist. The previous golden knife had been broken by him, but that knife was just a ceremonial, and its practicality was far less than the single-edged straight curved knife made of extremely high-quality high-carbon steel in his hand.

Kuster was about to open his mouth, but suddenly hesitated. Looking back at the soldiers staring at him, his eyes revealed determination and confidence.

Even if the shocking sound of the steel knife coming out of the sheath is very terrifying, it is also effective against the enemy. Even though the sky was gloomy, the morale of the soldiers behind him was not dampened at all and remained as high as usual.

After making up his mind, he turned back and stared at the newly built wide pontoon bridge. He raised his saber high, then pointed the tip of the saber towards the other side and shouted loudly:

"Long live victory! Charge!"

"Long live!"

"God bless!"

Kust only said one sentence, and hundreds of people responded behind him. Each of them shouted passionate slogans and rushed out of the battle.

Their speed was even faster than the trumpeter beside Kuster. Before the trumpet sounded to bid farewell to the warriors, they stepped onto the pontoon bridge and rushed to the other side with all their strength. This pontoon bridge was much wider and more stable than the previous one.

After the trumpet sounded, more people were called up. Those who were far away from Kuster could not hear his orders clearly at the first time, and only understood when the trumpet sounded.

With a sigh of relief, Kuster returned to silence again, holding the telescope outside his red and swollen eyes.

As soon as the French saw the German charge, they responded with a barrage of bullets.

Bullets filled the entire battlefield, like a majestic downpour falling from the sky; and like sharp iron needles rising from the ground to destroy everything. Shoot straight at the people on the pontoon.

The Germans who charged first were very lucky. Almost none of the machine guns hit them. Most of them quickly entered the blind spot. Only those who attacked after hearing the sound of the bugle or were slow to attack were hit.

"Bring me that machine gun!"

Kuster roared. His hand slapped the steel wall in front of him, but he didn't feel any pain. He was overwhelmed by the uncontrollable anger in his heart.

After a few seconds, there were several loud bangs, and finally the sound of the machine gun was no longer heard.

Kuster breathed a sigh of relief, but suddenly, a red signal flare rose in the sky, lighting up the dark night.

It was agreed in advance that as soon as the death squads captured the fortress, they would set off a signal flare and then walk directly out of the gap.

Kuster felt relaxed all over, closed his eyes, and finally fell to the ground as weakly as a broken log.

When I woke up, it was already noon the next day. The German troops who arrived later spent the whole morning searching, but they couldn't see the death squads who were opening the way for them.

They originally wanted to invite them to have a celebration banquet, but little did they know that these death squads had already infiltrated into the French army's territory.

Looking at the corpses all over the ground, it was all desolate and miserable. Only the broken barriers and endless craters on the shore still record this tragic war.

Warm reminder: The website is about to be revised, which may cause the loss of reading progress. Please save the "Bookshelf" and "Reading History" in time (it is recommended to take screenshots to save). We apologize for the inconvenience caused to you!