From Corsica to the Fourth Rome

March 6, 1770, Lawrence's fourth day in Bonifacio.

On the outskirts of Bonifacio, on a plain with a wide view, more than 20 people were seen lined up in a row, calmly holding the muskets in their hands, aiming at the target placed in the distance, and performing rounds after rounds. shoot.

Among these people, except for the patrols brought by Lawrence from Ajaccio, they were all selected from the soldiers of the original Fourth Battalion and were veterans who were most proficient in using muskets.

Although Lawrence decided to put the rifle into actual combat in this battle, it did not mean that Lawrence was ready to make this new weapon completely public.

Lawrence was not prepared to give up this huge military advantage until he could mass-produce rifles.

Therefore, the soldiers selected here are all selected by Lawrence himself, and are the most loyal subordinates to him, to prevent the secrets from being leaked.

"Ahem."

After a round of volleys, Lawrence stretched out his hand to disperse the white smoke in front of him, choked and coughed twice, and asked Major Cui Farley beside him:

"Major, how's the training going?"

Major Cui Farley squinted his eyes, walked forward a certain distance, looked at the target, turned back and shouted:

"Not bad. There is no difference in how to use these guns and muskets. After these few days of shooting training, the hit rate has improved very quickly."

Lawrence nodded, turned around and ordered the soldiers to stop training and rest in place for a while.

"But then again, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte."

Cui Farley walked to Lawrence and whispered:

"I still don't think these twenty people can be of any use. Even if they hit every target, they will only kill or injure at most 300 enemies in one battle, and that's if they don't suffer any casualties."

Lawrence sat down cross-legged, shook his head and said:

"They don't need to kill 300 people. As long as they can kill 30 people, our army will be sure of victory."

"Thirty people? How is that possible?!"

Major Cui Farley's face was full of suspicion, and he quickly sat down next to Lawrence and asked repeatedly:

"Thirty people are only one percent of the enemy's strength. Why do you say that?"

In the eyes of Major Trifali, if all soldiers can be equipped with rifles, then they can use line tactics at longer distances, so that they can fire a few more rounds before the enemy gets closer and gain an advantage.

Therefore, Major Cui Farley really didn't think that these twenty or so rifles were of any use.

Lawrence glanced at Major Trifari and sighed slightly. He also knew that Major Trifari had the limitations of his era.

As a person who has used line tactics for most of his life, it is difficult for Major Cui Fali to escape from this thinking.

So, Lawrence stretched out his hand and pointed at the rifles in the hands of the soldiers, and said slowly:

"Then what if these thirty people are the commander, deputy commander, orderly, and drummer of each array?"

"this!"

Major Trifali listened to Lawrence in a daze, looking at the rifles in the hands of the soldiers in trance.

In any case, as a soldier who has experienced hundreds of battles, Major Trifali quickly understood what Lawrence meant.

In line tactics, soldiers from both sides will face each other and be directly exposed to the other side's guns. The distance between the two sides is only tens of meters.

The psychological pressure that such tactics bring to ordinary soldiers is extremely huge. Few people can remain calm even when dozens of muskets are pointed at them.

Therefore, the commander of each array must visit the front line in person to stabilize morale and deter deserters.

Of course, these commanders will not stand directly on the front line of the firefight. After the firefight begins, they will retreat behind their soldiers as cover.

In musket shooting, such human cover is relatively safe. Although the probability of officers being hit by stray bullets exists, it is much lower than the probability of ordinary soldiers being killed.

However, Major Cui Farali swallowed subconsciously when he thought of this:

Under the precise fire of these rifles, the enemy officers and messengers who were only a few dozen yards away were like targets.

And most of the time it's not even a moving target.

Once the enemy's command system is in chaos, Major Cui Farley knows the consequences without even thinking about it.

Lawrence glanced at Major Trifari, and from the glazed expression in his eyes, Lawrence knew that he had understood what he meant.

After standing up and patting the dirt on his body, Lawrence was about to continue directing the soldiers to train, but he saw a figure not far away running towards him in a hurry.

Lawrence did not recognize the visitor, but judging from the uniform on his body, he should be a soldier of the Confederate Legion.

As soon as he ran to Lawrence, he was so tired that he couldn't straighten up and gasped:

"Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte, we have found you. Colonel Silva wants to see you. It is very urgent."

"Very urgent?"

Lawrence and Major Trifali exchanged glances and nodded to each other. Major Trifali organized the soldiers here to return to the camp, and Lawrence followed the soldiers to meet with Colonel Silva.

Before reaching the fortress where Colonel Silva lived, Lawrence noticed something strange in Bonifacioli.

The streets were full of soldiers coming and going in a hurry. They all carried wooden boxes of different sizes on their shoulders, and seemed to be carrying something in a hurry.

Even in the bay to the north of the city, several schooners flying the Corsican flag were busy loading cargo and preparing to leave here.

When Lawrence saw Colonel Silva again, his room was much simpler than the previous days, with basically only a wooden table and a few chairs left.

The documents on the table and the hangings on the wall, including his own personal belongings, are all missing and must have been transported from here.

"Colonel Silva, what's going on now?"

Lawrence asked without sitting down, directly supporting Colonel Silva's table.

Colonel Silva stood in front of the window, with his back to Lawrence, and said calmly:

"The Sardinian Army has landed in southern Corsica, and as we expected, their first target is Bonifacio."

"What's the situation in the city?" Lawrence asked with a frown:

"You moved all the supplies out?"

Colonel Silva turned halfway, nodded to Lawrence, and said:

"Most of the supplies in the city will be transferred to Ajaccio by a small force to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. The remaining troops will take the initiative to fight against the Sardinian army."

Lawrence nodded silently and said nothing, thinking that Colonel Silva had tried his best to prevent him from staying to defend the city, and directly transferred all the supplies in the city.

Seeing that Lawrence did not respond, Colonel Silva continued:

"I am preparing to launch an attack tomorrow, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte, please coordinate your troops."

"I see."

Lawrence said nothing and simply saluted, then turned and left the fortress.

Staring at Lawrence's back disappearing into the stairwell, Colonel Silva couldn't help but lick his lips, and said to himself greedily:

"Don't blame me, Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte. General Pauly got me a British title. Even if General Pauly doesn't say anything, I won't let you affect the signing of the treaty."

After saying that, Colonel Silva turned around and looked at the scenery outside the window. After all, he had been stationed here for several years. Now he was about to bid farewell to Bonifacio and lead his soldiers to die. Colonel Wa felt a little sad.

However, Colonel Silva immediately shook his head mockingly and murmured:

"What am I thinking about? Who cares about this remote place? When I get the title, I will go directly to London and receive an annuity and become a noble. Corsica, Corsican, oh, who cares."