Iron Powder and Spellcaster

The leading echelon walked one day's journey ahead of the main force.

On the first day, they traveled along the south bank of the Confluence River.

The lower river beach was littered with dead Hurds washed ashore. Every few steps, Winters could see new bloated bodies.

Many crows and vultures came to enjoy the feast. While they pecked at the carrion unscrupulously, they stared at the living people walking in front of them.

"What are you looking at!" Charles couldn't bear it anymore and picked up stones and threw them at the crow.

The black bird made an unpleasant cry, fluttered and took off, flying to hover above the Plato army.

Other militiamen also picked up stones and shot them at the crows and vultures.

Winters gave no order to stop it.

"What are you looking at?" he thought gloomily, "food."

…

Shortly after the dispute between Winters and Haugwitz ended, the messenger brought back the final verdict of the two generals.

One word was scrawled on the lacquer-sealed parchment:

[wheel]

The wheel means that no man who is higher than the wheel will be left alone.

The order was carried out with efficiency, and the remaining Hurd women and children were driven across the river and left to fend for themselves.

Brother Rhett looked down upon General Plato's decision-making.

Brother Rhett asked Winters: "Absolute cruelty or absolute kindness, you can only choose one or the other. Kill your father and let go of your wife and son. What is this?"

Winters couldn't answer.

But Arpad and Sackler had their reasons.

For the Hed tribes, women are valuable resources and property.

Only women can have men, and no one knows this better than the Hud people, who live in difficult conditions.

"Let the Red River Department have a headache." During the meeting of senior military officers, Arpad said nonchalantly: "Let's see if Yasin can guard these women. Humph, we might even have to fight another battle."

…

When marching in the wild without roads, commanders usually limit their daily journey to 20,000 steps.

Each step of the left and right feet is one step, and 20,000 steps is about 24 kilometers. Only in this way can the soldiers have enough energy to fight.

If your feet are on hard surface, you can walk up to 30,000 steps per day, which is about 36 kilometers.

But on the first day of departure, Winters's leading echelon only walked a dozen kilometers, less than 15,000 steps.

There was no other reason than that the carriage could not keep up.

The supply camps along the route built when they arrived had been burned, and the Plato army was unable to obtain food on the spot.

Therefore, the carriage pulling the baggage becomes the shortest plank of the barrel.

Seeing the sun setting in the west, Colonel Bode Gates, the commander of the vanguard, ordered camp to be set up.

[Note: Colonel Bode Gates was the commander who defended Beizhai]

Just because the distance traveled is short, doesn’t mean the day will end easily.

Soldiers also had to dig trenches and build camps large enough to accommodate large troops.

Regardless of the standing army or the auxiliary troops, everyone had to work.

The grooms had to unshackle and feed the horses, the soldiers responsible for cooking were busy collecting firewood and lighting fires, while others were digging trenches and building walls.

The fortifications were divided into sections and assigned to various centurions.

Winters patrolled and supervised labor in the section his team was responsible for.

Each person in the leading echelon was assigned a shovel or a pickaxe, which greatly accelerated the digging speed.

Never underestimate shovels and pickaxes. Providing tools to ordinary soldiers is a major "revival" of army tactics and is also one of the contents of [Ned Smith's Military Reform].

However, due to the size and weight of the tools, they are inconvenient to carry. According to the establishment, a ten-man team only has two shovels, a pickaxe, an ax and a saw.

The night before leaving, Sackler concentrated most of the tools of the two legions into the hands of the vanguard and specially arranged carriage transportation.

Even though everyone had a handy tool, the troops had to work until dark before they could barely finish the job.

Later, after Colonel Bode personally inspected and passed the inspection, Winters' militiamen finally heard the order to disband.

The militiamen who returned to the camp stuffed themselves with a few mouthfuls of food and drink and began to set up tents.

Everyone was extremely tired and just wanted to go to bed and rest.

Winters also returned to the brigade headquarters, looking for something to eat.

The team headquarters was deserted. Lieutenant Colonel Jessica had already finished eating and left, and the other three centurions had not returned yet.

There were only three people in the tent: Father Carman, Brother Red, who was dining, and Balian, the blacksmith guarding the stew pot.

Since Lieutenant Colonel Jessica transferred the blacksmith to the brigade as a cook, Father Carman and Brother Rhett also came to the brigade headquarters to start a team.

Winters helped himself to a bowl of soup and asked Carman, "How was it?"

Father Carman put down the tableware, made a bow, and whispered: "Today, five believers have reached their resting place through the mercy of the Lord."

Brother Rhett sighed: "You can just say five people died, no need to beat around the bush. This kid doesn't understand."

Most of the seriously wounded will die within seven days, and some of the lightly wounded will develop fever, go into shock, and then die.

Winters had seen so much that he was a little numb.

He comforted Kaman and said, "Don't think too much. Without you, more people would die."

Kaman remained silent.

…

The recovery rate of officers is much higher than that of soldiers, not only because officers are physically stronger, but also because officers receive good care when injured.

If soldiers were treated similarly, the lightly wounded would have a high chance of surviving.

But the actual situation is that the wounded basically cannot be taken care of, because the legion only has combat personnel.

Only a few doctors accompanying the army are full-time, while the others are soldiers and officers who serve part-time.

It would be a blessing to have someone to stitch up the wounded and take out the arrowheads. The rest can only depend on the luck of the wounded.

The Jessica Brigade is a special case. Because Carman is in charge of the medical clinic, the wounded in the Jessica Division have received the best care they can get.

But even so, there will still be many injured people who cannot survive the bumpy journey. This is an inevitable situation.

…

Winters thought for a while and then asked Kaman: "How many more people should I add to you?"

Kaman bowed silently.

"Okay, I'll pick a few honest and reliable ones for you." Winters sipped the broth and continued: "I will take people to dig graves later and use the funeral rites of legionnaires..."

Andre walked into the team headquarters in a hurry, his nose twitching and asked the blacksmith: "What did you stew today?"

"Horse meat," Balian replied.

"What day is it not?" Andre sighed and sat down at the table.

Balian filled a bowl of horse broth and served it to Andre.

Andre began to devour the food, and without looking up he asked Winters: "Have you arranged for night duty?"

Winters nodded and asked in confusion: "What's wrong?"

Andrei finished a bowl of soup, handed the empty bowl to the blacksmith with his left hand, stretched his right hand towards the bread basket in the middle of the dining table, and said: "It's marching and working, where can I find the strength to stand guard? Let me tell you, The ten-man team responsible for standing guard do not need to participate in building the camp. Let them have a good rest. Otherwise, they will have to take a nap while standing guard."

"Okay...but what about the people standing on the night guard today?"

"Today's night guard?" Andre sneered: "It's bad luck for them."

After dinner, the soldier's day is over, but the centurion's day is not over yet.

The blacksmith's horse broth cheered Winters up and filled his stomach, and he walked towards the camp of Jessica's brigade.

He was not going to sleep, for officers did not live with the soldiers, and his tent was in a separate quarter in the center of the camp.

He just used to walk around the military camp after dinner.

Now is the most relaxing time in the military camp. Soldiers sit around the warm campfire and share hot food with their comrades.

Warmth, food, and campfires free soldiers from the shackles of discipline.

Walking around the campground during dinner, Winters could get some vague perceptual perceptions: Cold? Hungry? fear? angry? excited? Depressed? War-weary? Dare to fight?

Winters went to the stables first. The horses were well taken care of, with food and water.

At the stable, he accidentally bumped into Bud and Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, and the ponyboy Angelo was also there.

The left front hoof of a draft horse was tied to a wooden stake, and Angelou was picking out the horse's hoof.

"What's wrong?" Winters asked.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's face was gloomy: "You don't understand even if I tell you."

Winters was used to it. He turned to Bud and asked: "What's going on?"

Badnu mouthed: "The hoof may have leaked, and I'm walking with a slight limp."

Leaky hoof? Winters really doesn’t understand…

"It just might have pus in it," Bud added.

"oh."

"Do you understand?"

"No."

Angelou worked hard. He first pried off the shoe, and then peeled off the horse's hoof layer by layer like peeling a carrot.

Finally, the young stable boy picked up a hand drill and made a hole in the left flap of the horse's hoof.

Thick, crimson pus and blood flowed out of the hole and dripped on the ground in strands, making Winters' scalp numb.

"It's difficult." Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said, crossing her arms.

"Well, it's not easy." Bud sighed.

After draining away the pus and blood, Angelou cleaned the horse's hoof, applied medicine, and finally wrapped it in clean cotton cloth.

"This horse can't work recently." Angelou said distressedly: "It's best to let it rest for about half a month."

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica also sighed, showing a rare hint of sadness: "Let it follow. If it doesn't work...kill it, don't waste fodder."

The ponyboy stroked the horse's mane and said "hmm" in a low voice.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica looked at Winters again, frowned and asked, "Why are you here?"

Winters left quickly and continued walking toward the camp.

He walked toward the campfire, wrapped in the robes of the Hud, like a common militiaman.

The night was dark, and everyone was busy filling their stomachs, and no one noticed the centurion walking by.

They laughed, cursed, sang some obscene ditty, or arranged an embarrassing story about a certain officer.

These are things they wouldn't say to Winters' face, giving Winters a strange sense of reality.

The army is a whole, the phalanx is a whole, and everyone inside is blurred.

Now, the faceless individual is sitting by the campfire, bit by bit, becoming a flesh-and-blood human being.

But Winters couldn't see or hear who was speaking.

Through each flesh-and-blood individual, he had a vague perceptual understanding of the [Army] as a whole.

This perceptual knowledge is like touching the "spirit" of the army, so Winters walks every day, otherwise he always feels uneasy.

Winters was walking aimlessly, and a voice came from the campfire behind him: "It's all soaked. It's almost rotten."

"Bear it." The other person sniffed and replied in a low voice: "We can't let the peasants look down upon us."

He couldn't recognize other people's voices, but he was extremely familiar with these two voices.

The previous one was Ouashika.

The last one is Pierre.

Winters walked over and asked, "What's broken?"

"What else? Feet!" Vashika replied angrily, and suddenly he stood up in horror: "Sir...sir!"

Next to Vasika, other Dusak who was warming his feet on the campfire also stood up.

…

In order to save the strength of the war horse, Lieutenant Colonel Jashka strictly prohibited any soldier from riding a horse. Even Dusak had to lead the horse on foot - unless he encountered the enemy or performed a reconnaissance mission.

"The bow-legged people are also walking on the ground." Other militiamen murmured: "Let's see if they can endure the suffering we suffered."

Seeing the usually arrogant Dusak walking with bowed legs, the "farmer's boy" Dusak said felt a little happy in his heart.

At the beginning, Dusak under Winters called the peasants "farmers", and the peasants also called Dusak "Tatars".

Both words are extremely serious slurs, and they are as mentally destructive to each other as a forty-eight-pound cannonball.

If Winters were not present, a casual word like "Tatar" or "Farmer" could start a fight.

In this way, the people of Wolf Town left their hometown with contempt for each other.

There is no need to go into details about what happened after that. Some people were gone and others added in.

Newcomers also liked to say "Tatars" and "Farmers" at first, but after everyone supported each other and escaped death many times, no one mentioned the words "Tatars" and "Farmers" anymore. .

However, the antagonism caused by the difference in origin still vaguely existed, so the nickname also quietly changed.

[Bow-legged] replaced [Tatar], [peasant boy] replaced [cropman].

To Winters' ears, "bow-legged" and "peasant boy" were still extremely serious slurs.

"Can't you use normal titles?" Winters couldn't help but talk to his militiamen.

According to the militiamen, these two words are only insulting in the other person's ears, and the person who said them only uses them as neutral words.

When he mentioned this matter to Bud, Winters was still indignant: "Bullshit! They just lied to themselves! What does it mean 'I speak without insult, but you listen with insult'? Isn't it a contemptuous term? Shouldn't it be up to the listeners?" Does the person decide?"

"It sounds better than [Tatars] and [Farmers] after all." Bud was helpless.

…

Someone is waiting for Dusak to make a fool of himself, and Dusak knows that someone is waiting for them to make a fool of themselves.

So they didn't complain or complain, they just walked away in silence.

The spirit is commendable, but the body cannot be faked. Pierre, Vashika and other Dussac all have blisters on their feet, some of which are as big as thumbs.

Winters took one look and understood what was going on. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "What's the use of warming yourself up by the fire? Go to the military doctor and ask him to pick out the needles for you. Don't crowd around."

Dusakdu of Wolf Town is very close to Winters and is very courageous.

Pierre whispered: "That barber is a farmer's boy, he will definitely laugh at us."

"What kind of farmer?" Winters got angry when he heard this title: "Then you want me to choose for you?"

Pierre shook his head desperately.

"Don't shake your head." Winters reached out to grab Pierre's leg: "I'll choose for you."

"No, no, no..." Pierre backed away repeatedly, almost falling: "I'm going to find a military doctor."

"If you don't want to hear about Tatars, don't call them peasants." Winters didn't know if these Dusaks would listen. He looked at the blisters on their feet and said, "Forget it. , I’ll ask the military doctor to come over and be polite to others.”

After walking a few steps, he turned back and said, "Tell the others to go to Lieutenant Bader tomorrow morning to pick up the shoes... How can you walk in long riding boots?"

…

As the militiamen began dousing the campfire, Winters returned to his tent.

Being in a war zone, he temporarily stopped practicing magic in order to preserve his "magic power" for emergencies.

He lit the oil lamp. There was one last thing left to do.

Winters took out a pen, pen and ink bottle, thought about what happened today, and started to write a letter to Anna:

"From now on, every moment, I am getting closer to you..."

The letter was very short, with only a few words. Winters carefully folded the letter and put it in the wooden box.

He turned off the oil lamp and got under the blanket.

In the wooden box on the small table, there are hundreds of neatly stacked papers.

This is an update from yesterday [Friday the 18th]... although I just finished writing it now.

Thanks to book friends for reading, subscribing, recommending tickets, monthly tickets, tips and comments, thank you all;

Thanks to the book friends who are bored and depressed, the brightest Deneb, Sengoku Nadeshiko, Guanggualixy, the frivolous scholar who doesn’t read and Fu Xiser, thank you all.