Fishball noticed the change in the battle situation.

He had been fighting with the mentality of chipping off the enemy's tooth even if it meant dying in battle, but the pressure exerted by the opponent was lower than he had anticipated.

When fighting demons in Fertile Plains, the pressure of the battlefield almost made it difficult for him to breathe, and the only thought in his head was to shoot, his whole body stiff as a rock. But now, he had enough energy to observe the situation of his teammates and the attackers, and to think about the possible actions the other side might take.

As the charges were repelled several times, the enemy's movements became much slower.

The most obvious point was that the gaps between the volleys of the First Army had widened significantly – in order to save ammunition, they usually only fired intensively when the noble army launched a charge, but a volley had basically been an hour ago.

In the case that the opponent did not send reinforcements afterwards, this "stalemate" of neither advancing nor retreating was definitely a taboo. After all, the First Army was in a high-to-low half-slope position, and had the cover of the sand and stone fortifications, the advantage of shooting at each other was far greater than that of the opponent.

He did not quite understand why the noble commander would make such a choice - unlike cold weapon combat, no contact does not mean that no combat has occurred, those attackers are under the pressure of being shot at every moment, which is undoubtedly a blow to morale.

Some front lines retreated instead of advancing, which was proof. Fishball saw with his own eyes that the positions of some people lying down had retreated nearly a hundred meters from the positions they had initially entered. Now the entire front line was uneven like a meandering wave.

This also revealed that the attackers were not a complete unit, but were temporarily pieced together by several teams.

In addition, Fishball also realized that the enemy may not be very good at the fighting style of firearms. Although they had obvious traces of imitating the First Army, they had not fully exerted the effect that hand weapons should have.

Otherwise, they could not have persisted until now.

Although it sounds incredible, no one in the team has died so far, and only five people have been injured.

This can no longer be explained simply by luck.

"Can anyone give me some bullets, I'm running out!"

"Me too, there's only one last clip in my hand."

"Squad leader, what do we do next?" Hanson bent over and ran back and asked, "There are no more living enemies next to the machine gun. Should we drag it until night and retreat?"

Fishball looked up at the sky. It was about 5 p.m. now. The sun set faster in late autumn, and it would be dark in another hour and a half. At that time, the threat of the enemy's firearms would be greatly reduced, and even if they acted with their backs to direct fire, there would be a chance.

But perhaps because he had avoided too much before, he always considered retreat more.

The night weakened the accuracy of the firearms, but the First Army would also lose its greatest reliance. More importantly, if the enemy regained their morale because of this move and pursued them, could they defeat the opponent again?

Of course, if the ammunition was sufficient, the squad might be able to complete the evacuation before the attackers reacted. However, according to the current situation, the nobles should soon notice that the shooting frequency of the camp is no longer what it used to be, and it is not difficult to guess their next move.

What's more, two of the five injured were seriously injured, and retreating with injured teammates would inevitably further slow down their speed.

And Fishball couldn't bring himself to abandon his teammates.

He hesitated again and again, and finally made up his mind, "Call everyone else over, I have something to say."

Before long, Hanson gathered the teammates scattered on the front line.

The enemy did not seem to have noticed that many shooting points of the First Army had gathered, they were still lying on the grass, occasionally raising their guns and firing a shot, which further strengthened Fishball's belief.

He briefly described the situation, then looked around at everyone, "His Majesty often says that offense is always the best defense. If we can defeat these nobles in one fell swoop, then there will be no worries about whether to go or stay. And if it is the other way around, it may give the enemy a chance to bite back. Now is the time to make a decision,

We can hand over our destiny to the enemy, or we can control it ourselves. Now I want to hear what everyone thinks."

"Squad leader, do you mean... let us take the initiative to attack?" Hanson couldn't help but be stunned, "The number of opponents is much greater than ours."

"I've already considered it. They seem to have the advantage in numbers, but most of them have no intention of fighting. Just long-distance shooting can't let the enemy directly realize the defeat. If we can defeat their strongest team, maybe we can completely destroy the opponent's will to fight!"

"But we don't have many bullets left..."

"The First Army is not an army that can only fight by relying on firearms. The Combat Manual emphasizes this." Fishball said solemnly.

After a moment of silence, Hanson was the first to speak, "I'll listen to you."

"That's right, squad leader, I don't want to leave anyone behind."

"Either we all go, or we all stay."

"Give the order, squad leader!"

Everyone shouted.

Fishball nodded solemnly. If it had been before, he would never have thought that he would make such a decision. Having been in the army for only four years, he felt that something had indeed been changed in him.

"You are not a coward."

A melodious voice reappeared in his ear.

He took a deep breath and said word by word, "Everyone, bayonets!"

From the oldest flintlock musket to the bolt-action rifle, the structure of the gun body has changed a lot, but the bayonet has never been cancelled. If there is any difference, it is that it is now easier to use.

The soldiers drew their sabers from their scabbards in unison and inserted them into the lugs.

Fishball inserted the last magazine into the chamber and shouted, "Follow me!"

He was the first to jump out of the camp.

Other teammates followed closely behind, rushing towards the enemy closest to the front line!

The opponents obviously hadn't reacted to what was happening. Many of them didn't even get up from the ground in the first place, but instinctively continued to shoot at the charging First Army with awkward postures.

Fishball had prepared for the hit, but the expected stinging pain failed to come. The distance of more than 100 meters arrived in an instant, and at this time, the enemy stood up as if awakened from a dream, holding the bare rifle stupidly in place, as if they didn't know what to do.

He thrust the bayonet into the chest of the first enemy according to the posture during training—

"Kill!"

The teammates also swarmed up, taking advantage of the downhill momentum to rush into the crowd.

The shouts of killing instantly resounded through the hillside!

Fishball stabbed one enemy, shot another, and then turned around and stabbed the third, only to find that there were no new targets around him for a while.

He looked around and realized that the enemy had begun to collapse.

They probably never expected that the First Army would rush out of the camp at this time and engage in close combat with them. The last string that was tightening in their hearts also broke with a bang.

The brave win when enemies meet on a narrow road.

The noble coalition army, which had been gritting its teeth and persevering, could not resist for long and collapsed completely - when the team at the forefront fled, panic spread throughout the army like a plague. Those teams that had retreated behind threw down the weapons in their hands and fled down the mountain in a panic, and many people even lost their footing and rolled down, knocking down a bunch of accomplices running in front.

When those heavy machine guns fell into the hands of the First Army and turned their muzzles to sweep towards the crowd running down the mountain, the enemies hated themselves for not having two more legs. If the machine guns had not run out of bullets, they might not have been able to escape from this place.

Fishball didn't know how far he had chased, until his legs were a little weak, he slowly stopped.

The enemies still alive on the hillside were all kneeling on the ground, raising their hands in surrender, and those nobles who had been wandering in the rear ran even faster, and now it was almost impossible to see their figures.

He clenched his fist hard, and an unspeakable joy seemed to surge in his heart.

Before he had time to savor it, the excited teammates rushed over and knocked him to the ground, "Squad leader, we won!"

"Long live His Majesty!"

"Long live the First Army!"

He was lifted up by everyone, and then thrown high into the air.

That's right, they won.

Everyone survived, there was no better ending than this.

Fishball opened his arms to the slowly setting sun, and joined everyone in the shouts of victory.

…