After the military meeting was over, the battalion-level commanders went back to convey orders to their subordinates. Filetelia, who was often silent, stopped me, a trace of sadness flashed across her face: "Are you really going to hurt those innocent people?

"

"Innocent? They are the ones who instigated the dispute. If they do what I say, I will not hurt anyone." I looked at Zhitomir on the map, feeling headache about the progress of the next raid.

Feletelia sighed and said: "What's wrong with them protecting their home, wealth and not wanting to leave!"

I looked at the female literary youth, and she was very strange today: "You are right, the people of Zhytomir are not wrong."

There was light in Feletelia's eyes, which seemed to be called hope, but I hadn't finished my words yet: "It's just that some things cannot be explained by reasoning between people. Otherwise, why would we

Can invent swords and cannons."

Feletelia came over, stretched out her hand to block the map, and asked: "If it were you, what would you do if such an unacceptable thing happened to you?"

"Resist."

"Since you also know how to resist, why do you still force them? Without oppression, there will be no resistance." The female literary youth seemed to have found the congressman who refuted the argument at the imperial meeting. Her eyes were focused, her face was tense, and her fighting spirit was very high.

"Good question. Then let me ask you, if there is a river next to your territory, and that river belongs to another village, according to the boundary demarcation, your people have no right to draw water from that river. But one summer, the land is dry.

, your subjects can’t survive without the water from that river, and the people in that village are even less likely to let your subjects go there to get water, what will you do?”

Filetlia stared at me, and she said solemnly: "I went to the battlefield. Then, the real me, the complete me, was lost there. It can never be found again. As someone who has experienced it, I advise you.

, once you step onto the battlefield, you will no longer be you, forever."

"My hands were so wet from moaning." I clapped my hands and smiled, then said seriously, "From the day I came to Odessa, I have been at war."

"You are very similar to my father." Her tense face softened and she lowered her head. Then, I saw teardrops on the map, "Then agree to my request and don't let me go to the battlefield, okay? I don't want to go to the battlefield again.

go back."

"Can."

Didn't the United States, which used to be the global policeman in the 21st century, seek independence at the end of the 18th century because it couldn't stand the British stealing money from their hands in disguise? The British taxation of the thirteen colonial states was not too serious, but the colonial

People still can't stand it. Now I want to burn down their homes and force them to leave their homes. This is much more serious than just imposing taxes. Just that I can understand the actions of the Zhytomir people, but it does not mean that I will accept it.

We also stopped the continuous burning of villages for more than ten days, rested for one night, and marched towards Zhytomyr at our usual marching speed. We will arrive at Zhytomyr in the afternoon two days later.

The armed citizens of Zhitomir were waiting there. When they saw us appearing, they immediately sent an envoy to invite us to fight. The envoy arrogantly told us that Zhitomir had prepared an army of more than 5,000 people.

Each one of us can drown us with just one mouthful of saliva! If we don’t want to die, we’d better get as far away as possible!

The arrogance of the Poles was already expected, but I was very angry. The attitude of the Poles was not the reason for my anger. Just today, through the mouth of this messenger, I understood why the citizens of Zhitomir wanted to rebel.

They are all those damn Poles from the north! They simply obeyed the order to move the entire village. As soon as they left us, they burned, killed, and looted. But this was not because of Zhitomir's resistance. More and more people came from the north.

After escaping, the Poles, who had an increasing appetite for food, actually pretended to be powerful and asked the city for money!

Fuck the people next door. After what happened, Zhitomir raised his arms and a large number of refugees went south to join their resistance! Guess what happened to the Poles? They just patted their butts and left without reporting the news.

nothing!

Oh, to reap the benefits, they knew they were causing trouble in the name of Rome, so they ran away completely!

"Betrayal, this is a naked betrayal, an unforgivable betrayal!"

"I'm going to kill all those Poles!"

"Raze! Raze their villages! All of them will be hanged!"

The entire military tent was like an exploding gunpowder keg, full of hatred for the Poles. Who said it wasn't the case? If it hadn't been for them, this battle might not have been possible, although a battle wouldn't be a bad thing!

"Those stupid guys will pay the price for this. But everyone, can't we win this battle without them? What are we Romans afraid of?"

"We have nothing to fear!"

"Tomorrow we will fight to the glory of Rome!!!"

"Glory to Rome!!!"

Betrayed, Rome was betrayed more than once.

Except for ourselves, we are the only ones in Rome. No one else can be trusted. Only we, the Romans, can fight for ourselves!

In the cold morning, after a sleepless night, I walked out of the camp. After breakfast, I untied my hands for the thirteenth time and finally asked Assassin to help me put the red color woven by the Greek weavers on the outside of the breastplate.

Cloak, fastened to the breastplate with a silver chain, checking the saber, dagger and a flintlock pistol at the waist, the soldiers in the camp were ready to go.

Looking up, the dim light penetrated the gray clouds and shone on the rows of eagle flags held high. The golden light dazzled my eyes.

For a thousand years, since the Roman Republic used the eagle, countless Roman soldiers have held up these eagles with spread wings and taken their steps towards the enemy again and again. After the fall of Western Rome, only Eastern Rome carried the golden eagle.

The eagle flag stands tall in Constantinople, a land that is both heaven and hell, and strives to raise the head of a proud civilization in the dark middle ages.

Looking at the eagle flag again today, I seemed to see countless Roman soldiers in red armor striding out of the city of Rome in a huge red wave, devouring the land under their feet, marching towards the tall mountains and towards the hot sun.

March into the desert, march toward the huge city walls, march toward wherever the enemy exists.

Today, more than a thousand years later, it is our turn again.

Even though the double-headed eagle has replaced the old eagle flag, the soldiers underneath it have remained unchanged for thousands of years. They identify themselves as Romans!

"Romans!" I mounted my war horse, pulled up the reins, and shouted in front of the soldiers who lined up in square formations: "Turn right and advance toward the battlefield!"

Three infantry battalions, 1,1047 infantrymen, turned to the right in unison. Under the leadership of the flag officer, their black leather boots stepped on the wet ground and slowly walked out of the camp.

The sound of footsteps, accompanied by the beating of drummers, and the sound of galloping hooves, is the melody of war, the war melody of Rome.

On the plain 7 kilometers away from Zhitomyr, the terrain here is open. Around 10:25, three infantry battalions, two chasseur battalions, and one cuirassier battalion arrived on the battlefield.

The armed mobs of Zhitomir also appeared on the edge of the battlefield one after another, and they took a rough look at their numbers and formations on horseback. These mobs were crowded together, densely packed, with a front width of about 500 people and a thickness of ten rows. This spectacular

The scene made me swallow my saliva.

When I raised the binoculars again, I saw that the mobs were all dressed up in a mess, with all kinds of weapons in their hands, such as kitchen knives, dung forks, flails, knives, all kinds of weapons that could be used for fighting, but I didn't find many of them carrying guns. Then deeper in the depths

, I found many people dressed as landlords and rich men sitting on the shelves. These people did not forget the superiority of their status when they arrived on the battlefield.

I smiled coldly, took back the telescope, and discovered Zhitomir's little trick.

I divided the three infantry battalions into two parts, with 900 men forming a two-column line. It was very thin, and the remaining 247 men formed a column of 30 men wide and 80 men long, which was arranged on the right wing.

Reserved as a reserve. Behind the extremely thin two lines, the cuirassier battalions were arranged in three lines, with 110 men in each line. Each line was 70 meters apart, and two chasseurs were arranged on the left and right wings.

A very abnormal arrangement. This is the two-line firing formation that the British army put up in memory to impose firepower. If the troops were arranged according to the normal formation, the three infantry battalions would be arranged in three lines, forming each

The depth of a hundred men in a three-line formation makes it impossible for the enemy to break through for a while. The advantages and disadvantages of three-line and two-line lines are all in the eye of the beholder. Several battalion-level commanders suggested that the two lines are very thin.

Another weakness that is easy for people to break through is that if the enemy fires twice, the troops in the front row will not be replenished.

These two opinions are very pertinent, but they failed to see that the Zhytomir people did not put troops with muskets in the front row. Since there are no musketeers in the front row, we do not need to consider the enemy's long-range strikes at all.

But doesn’t Zhytomir have muskets?

Can’t even get together a hundred?

According to my understanding of Polish landowners and the raids on villages in recent days, every household does not have muskets for hunting. So it is not that Zhitomir does not have muskets. Judging from the number of wealthy landowners, even though there is a serious shortage of guns and ammunition

, they also definitely have more than 100 muskets. And these people with muskets are probably at the back of the front line where the landlord Lao Cai is!

Use a large amount of cannon fodder to fill a path, and then after we lose our firepower, it is the turn of their elites, that is, the elites with guns, to fight back. I think this is how the Poles fight, taking advantage of their numerical advantage,

And try to preserve their elites to the greatest extent. This may not be the best plan, but it is the most beneficial to the Polish top brass.

Why?

Those who can make the landlords and wealthy people feel at ease to hand over the muskets for use are confidants, even if they are not relatives and friends. It doesn't matter to them how many others die, but if this person suffers a slight loss, it will matter to the landlords and wealthy people.

It makes them feel very distressed!

"You fucking Polish guy." I put the telescope back with disdain and turned the horse's head.
Chapter completed!