My soldiers are all Fourth Calamities!

27. Koroskin breaks through.

At eight o'clock in the morning, this support force from Sokolov suddenly appeared on the south side of "Korosten". The enemy troops, who were suddenly attacked, were stunned. There was a patrol behind them. How did the other side sneak in silently? And where did they get their heavy artillery?

But they soon discovered that artillery seemed to be the least of their problems.

In just a few seconds, a large amount of smoke exploded in front of them, making it impossible for the enemy machine gunners to see the direction of the support troops. More importantly, it seemed that the wind was also blowing in the direction of the support troops, drifting to the flanks and obstructing their vision.

The smoke bomb also looked strange.

You said he threw it by hand, but that distance and accuracy are unlikely.

You said he was shot from a cannon, but that level of accuracy is unlikely.

The machine gunner was about to do something, but when a group of blood-covered soldiers rushed out of the smoke, his brain went blank—and soon a player blew his head off.

"Brothers, for the sake of glory, we must take this down! Hurrah!"

Smoke filled the air, making it impossible for most soldiers on both sides to see the situation clearly. But for the players, the minimap showed signs indicating "Why aren't you attacking?"

"Smoke grenades! Boost the smoke grenades!"

"This is much easier to play against than the AI ​​opponents in certain five-word games, Battlefield, and Military."

Rochester, who was watching from behind the soldiers, found everything unfolding as he had predicted. The only problem was that the players' voice chat was filled with complaints about the game NPC: "Too weak! Why isn't there any canned food? Can we have a higher difficulty level?"

Rochester had nothing to say.

Players are truly a force to be reckoned with, overwhelming these native inhabitants.

With the increase in player merit and Rochester reputation, resurrection is no longer a particularly large expense for current players.

His adjutant, Anton, was quite surprised by the situation at the front. "Commander Rochester, how did you calculate the wind direction? And... how did you determine that the southern direction was the weakest?"

From Anton's perspective, Rochester's tactical plan, made an hour earlier, was truly astonishing.

Rochester offered his explanation: "North and northwest of 'Colossian' lies a vast expanse of forest and swamp, historically a natural defensive barrier, extremely unfavorable for large-scale troop movements."

"To be precise, it's not that I guessed the south was the weakest, but rather that the terrain on the south and southeast sides is relatively easier to attack compared to other places."

"In addition, Ukraine and the East European Plain experience a period of frost heave caused by melting snow and ice in the spring. Now that it is almost summer, the ground has already hardened. In addition, there has been no rain recently, so the south will be much better off."

"As for wind direction, the East European Plain has a typical continental climate. In summer, due to the rapid warming of the land, a low-pressure area forms in the Asian interior, and the airflow flows inward from the Atlantic Ocean. Therefore, in the Ukrainian Plain, the prevailing wind direction in summer is usually northwest or westerly, which means that the wind mainly blows from west to east or from northwest to southeast, and either way, it will drift to the flanks."

These words stunned Anton. Was this really true? Was I really a university student? Had I truly learned anything?

"Commander Rochester, where did you learn that from?"

"Uh... junior high and high school..." Rochester wanted to say "junior high and high school," but quickly swallowed it back. "I'll tell you later. Get ready to go into the trenches with the main force."

"Wait a moment, Commander Rochester." Anton called out to Rochester, pulling a pistol from his bag. "As a company commander with an independent unit number, how can you not have your own sidearm?"

"Hey kid, where did you get this?" Rochester took the pistol and examined it closely—a Ruger P08 semi-automatic pistol. "Good gun, good gun."

"Of course, it was captured during the cleanup of the war," Anton then pulled out a Ruger P08 semi-automatic pistol from his bag. "There are only two. I'll keep one. Commander Rochester shouldn't mind, right?"

Rochester had absolutely no problem with Anton's honesty.

...

Rochester was lucky again this time. The army stationed on the southern front was "again and again" the army of the "Provisional Cossack Government," the same kind of army whose morale would collapse instantly if attacked.

It can also occasionally demoralize friendly forces.

This time, unsurprisingly, just as Rochester's troops were about to charge into the trenches, the entire enemy force began to retreat.

The voices of several company commanders rang out from the front: "Charge with me! We're taking this trench!"

Three enemy soldiers fell behind while fleeing and were overtaken by Rochester's troops.

He raised his hands, one still clutching a pistol—Rochester looked at him, wondering whether he was about to shoot or surrender.

The other party seemed to want to say something more.

Rochester, naturally, dared not gamble on the latter possibility, so he simply swung his shovel down and struck the enemy soldier in the face.

Another enemy soldier who had fallen behind saw this and tried to keep running, but soon a bayonet was thrust into his back. After being stabbed in the back, he stretched out his arms forward, opened his mouth wide and shouted, rolling and crawling, the bayonet on his back trembling.

The last lone soldier seemed to know what was good for him; he threw down his rifle, squatted down, and covered his eyes.

This saved his life; he was quickly tied up by the follow-up troops and became a prisoner.

Rochester was surprised by the fighting spirit of the entire force, as they arrived at the second line of defense almost simultaneously with minimal losses, closely following the retreating enemy.

A machine gun that was firing was quickly blown away by two grenades thrown by the players, and another player swung his rifle butt and smashed a machine gunner's face.

Before the enemy soldiers could even pull out their grenades, they were stabbed to death one after another.

Rochester was chasing the main force from behind, and apart from the three enemy soldiers he had just encountered, he could no longer see any enemy troops.

Looking at the entire army, he was the slowest moving.

The army's slow movement worried Anton. "Speaking of which, Commander Rochester, if the vanguard retreats and comes face-to-face with us, won't they get into trouble with their own men?"

"Your statement is inappropriate. How can deserters and enemy troops be considered our own? We currently have the advantage! Besides, if there really is a retreat, can it be called a retreat? It's called a tactical maneuver."

As Rochester's troops advanced, the battle intensified.

The sounds of wire cutters clicking were everywhere, and obstacles were being tossed and turned on the wire mesh.

He and Anton crossed the narrow passage and jumped into the trench.

As soon as he entered the trench, he saw the player sever the neck of a burly enemy soldier with a shovel and throw the first grenade.

Rochester pulled Anton behind the foxhole and hid for about ten seconds. Then, the straight trench in front of them was cleared away.

The player's second grenade, thrown into the corner, hissed and then blasted open a passage.

As the soldiers ran in, they threw one grenade after another into the trench, causing the ground to tremble, smoke, and groan.

Rochester staggered over the mangled, bloody corpses, over the soft bodies.

On some of the corpses was a brand-new, clean officer's cap.

Anton picked it up without hesitation, and unsurprisingly, it was another trophy.