xymnovel Chapter 228 The Devouring Fire Net
Chapter 228 The Devouring Fire Net
The shelling has ended.
A thin layer of morning mist rose over the Thessalian plain, mixed with the pungent smell of gunpowder and the earthy stench of turned soil.
The sun peeked over the horizon, its golden rays illuminating the cratered front of the position and the contemptuous face of the Ottoman commander-in-chief, Edheim Pasha.
He rode a tall, thoroughbred Arabian warhorse, which snorted restlessly.
Edheim Pasha observed the deathly calm Greek positions opposite him through a Zeiss telescope.
There was no movement.
There was no retaliation.
There were hardly any people to be seen.
In his view, this was a sign of guilt, cowardice, and running out of supplies.
This thought made the old general's mustache twitch.
He put down his binoculars, his face displaying undisguised arrogance.
He decided not to wait any longer.
He wanted to use a thunderous charge, an overwhelming infantry assault, to completely crush the fantasies built on money by the nouveau riche on the other side into dust!
"Lord Pasha, please reconsider!"
The voice of German military advisor Major von Riedl, filled with an irrepressible urgency, rang out beside him.
"We know nothing about the enemy's firepower and defensive depth! Launching such a large-scale assault without conducting fire reconnaissance will leave our soldiers completely exposed to enemy fire! This is sending them to their deaths!"
Von Riedel spoke in a stern tone, trying to make the stubborn old man understand the basic logic of modern warfare.
Edheim Pasha turned his head impatiently and glanced at the Prussian.
His gaze was that of someone looking at a naive child.
"Major, this is the Balkans, not your Prussian military sand table covered in lines!"
The old general's voice was full of the reprimands of a superior to his subordinates.
"The empire has fought on this land for five hundred years! To deal with these Greeks who have just learned to wear trousers, only two things are needed—courage and bayonets!"
He abruptly waved his hand, giving von Riedl no chance to speak again.
"Pass on my orders!"
"Sound the charge!"
It was exactly 9:00 AM.
The sharp, long bugle call resounded throughout the entire Thessalian plain.
"For the Sultan!"
"God is the greatest!"
Like a brown tide with its gates opened, tens of thousands of Ottoman soldiers poured out of their positions.
With rifles fixed to gleaming bayonets, they charged with frenzied shouts towards the Greek positions five kilometers away, launching a massive assault.
People stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
The dense formations stretched out across the plains, seemingly endless.
The officers, mounted on horseback, brandished their curved sabers and shouted orders, urging the soldiers to maintain formation and march forward!
This is a tactic they have used for over a hundred years, a tactic upon which they once relied to conquer half the world.
They firmly believed that nothing on this plain could withstand the overwhelming tide of the imperial army.
Greece's front lines.
A young Greek lieutenant was calmly observing the approaching brown waves on the horizon through a newly issued periscope.
A fine layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, but his hands remained steady without trembling.
Beside him were soldiers crouching in trenches up to their chests.
They are a new army that Metaxa has honed step by step using German training methods.
There was neither fear nor fanaticism on anyone's face.
There was only a kind of mechanical calm.
Their movements were textbook perfect: checking ammunition, pulling back the bolt, and steadily chambering the bullet.
In front of the trenches were deadly traps that had been laid out beforehand.
Layer upon layer of crisscrossing barbed wire, like a devil's spider web.
Behind the barbed wire, every inch of land was precisely measured and marked by machine guns from the flank firing positions and artillery from the rear artillery positions.
This is a death zone digitized by data.
The enemy's wave is getting closer and closer.
Two kilometers.
1,500 meters.
One kilometer.
The shouts and curses of the Ottoman officers, the panting of the soldiers, could even be faintly heard.
The Greek positions remained deathly silent.
"Hold on!"
"Awaiting orders!"
The officers of the company paced back and forth in the trenches, repeating orders in low voices.
They patted the soldiers on the shoulder, their eyes resolute.
This composure stemmed from absolute trust in the Crown Prince's godlike arrangements behind the scenes.
The Ottoman tide has finally surged into the 800-meter death zone!
"Fire!"
The command, like a bolt of lightning, instantly spread throughout the entire position!
The Greek artillery positions behind them roared once again!
But this time, it wasn't a precise burst of fire.
Dozens of artillery battalions, with more than a hundred Krupp field guns, unleashed the most terrifying barrage according to the predetermined firing data!
A wall of fire made of cannonballs fell from the sky and smashed into the dense ranks of the Ottoman army's assault!
at the same time!
Dozens of Maxim heavy machine guns hidden in the flank fortified bunkers also began to emit their unique, deathly roar!
Da da da da!
The continuous gunfire was like death tearing apart a huge canvas!
The charging Ottoman soldiers seemed to have crashed into an invisible wall made of steel and fire.
The bullets, like whips of fire, lashed down on the crowd.
The soldiers at the forefront fell in rows, as if swept by an invisible, giant scythe.
Their bodies were torn apart and smashed by high-speed spinning bullets.
Blood and bits of flesh splattered backward, covering the faces of the comrades behind them.
Shells kept falling through the dense crowd.
Each time it landed, a huge cloud of blood mist rose up and countless severed limbs flew everywhere.
A complete infantry company, more than a hundred men, was shouting slogans and charging forward one second, and the next second, they were hit directly by a 75mm shell.
All that remained was a crater emitting black smoke and a blurry patch of blood and flesh.
In an instant, the battlefield transformed into a veritable meat grinder, devouring lives.
When the soldiers in the front row fell, the soldiers in the back row instinctively wanted to fill the gap.
But what they faced was not a gap that could be filled with courage, but an insurmountable web of death.
No matter how many of them charged forward, they would be torn to shreds in seconds by machine guns and artillery fire.
The shouts turned into screams of agony.
Cries for mercy and dying screams mingled together, drowning out the bugle call to charge.
Some people had their legs blown off, crawling on the ground, leaving long trails of blood, before being riddled with machine gun bullets and turned into a mangled mess.
Some people got caught in the barbed wire and couldn't move. They were shot to death amidst their desperate cries.
Officers on horseback became the primary targets of the heavy machine guns.
The bullets that hit them could instantly turn both men and horses into sieves.
This is a massacre!
A one-sided, ruthless industrial massacre!
Major von Riedel stood behind Edheim Pasha, his face ashen.
He watched as the killing machines created by his compatriots efficiently reaped the lives of another group using outdated tactics.
His body was trembling uncontrollably.
This is not war.
This is... an execution.
Edhem Pasha, standing before him, was completely stunned.
The arrogance and contempt on his face had long since vanished.
Instead, there was extreme shock and bewilderment.
He opened his mouth, making a "hoarse" sound in his throat, but couldn't utter a single word.
What did he see?
He saw his proud imperial warriors, his most elite infantry, being harvested like wheat before the enemy's lines.
They were powerless to fight back.
They couldn't even see the enemy's face.
The glory and pride of a century-old empire and a century-old army were shattered at this moment by the cold machine gun bullets and whistling shells!
"Retreat...retreat..."
The old general's lips trembled as he squeezed out those two words through clenched teeth.
But it was too late.
The Ottoman army's command system was severely damaged in the first round of shelling.
At this moment, the troops at the front line have completely collapsed.
What was supposed to be a charge had long since turned into a chaotic rout.
The soldiers threw down their rifles, crying and screaming, and fled for their lives in the direction they had come from.
They pushed and shoved each other, trampling on one another.
The Greek artillery, as if it had eyes, began to extend its firing range.
Shells chased after the fleeing crowd, falling continuously and unleashing wave after wave of death.
This decisive charge, on which Edheim Pasha had placed high hopes, lasted for less than an hour.
But on the plains of Thessaly, more than ten thousand mutilated corpses were left behind, and a road paved with blood and steel leading to hell.