Chapter 1365 - 1283: Battle of Fat Clam (Part 3)

Chapter 1365: Chapter 1283: Battle of Fat Clam (Part 3)

On the chaotic plateau above Fat Toad Town, tens of thousands of troops were entangled along the river and dirt road.

On every rise, in every hollow, you could see thick lines of men locked in combat.

Cannon roared, lead shot sprayed, square formations and scattered deserters tangled into one big mess.

The plateau village where Hanske and the others were stationed was called Cerdar Village, not large, only about the size of a few football fields.

Now that the morning fog had partly cleared, Hanske leaned against the big tree at the village entrance and looked out, seeing unit after unit of Holy Alliance Army streaming in like converging rivers.

By contrast, on the vampires’ side, half the day went by without a single friendly unit coming to their aid.

Were the vampires’ reinforcements really this slow? Or had the Holy Alliance overestimated them?

Hanske didn’t know; he only knew that on the main battlefield, at least twenty thousand soldiers on each side had already deployed across the front.

The quiet morning had turned into boiling porridge, bugles and drums blaring all over.

Yet to Hanske’s ears, this racket sounded like white noise, slowly dragging his eyelids down.

He hadn’t even shut his eyes for a few minutes before someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him violently.

"Wake up, don’t sleep, we’ve still got work to do!"

Half-asleep, Hanske moved on pure muscle memory, following behind Captain Bai and collecting a shovel and spade.

"What’s this for?" Hanske asked blankly, hefting the shovel.

"We’re building fortifications. You didn’t think beating back that wave of vampires was the end of it, did you?" Captain Bai looped the hemp rope over his shoulder ring after ring.

"They can still counterattack?"

"We just drove off a bunch of stragglers and rabble. You think vampires fight like Leia Knights?"

Compared to the Leia Kingdom’s old habit of passive, lazy warfare, the vampires were much more active and aggressive.

At this point Hanske had nothing more to say; he rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

They dug trench after trench in front of the village, packed the dirt into sandbags, doused them with water, and piled them behind the walls.

Fences were turned into improvised chevaux-de-frise, carts gathered and drawn into a ring to absorb charges from cavalry or high-ranking vampires.

The cold earth was hard as steel; when Hanske swung the mattock it even rang with a ding ding clang clang.

After a spell of digging and stacking, Hanske, dizzy and lightheaded, had just straightened up to rest when he heard the shrill call of bugles.

There was no time for rest. He forced himself through the ache in his back and waist, hauled himself up the side of the trench, and ran to assemble in the square.

Quite a few soldiers were already standing there, more than before.

Clearly, the Seventh Corps had arrived to support, bringing with them a batch of three‑pounder guns.

As for the heavier six‑pounders and twelve‑pounders, the Sixth Corps was on the way, escorting them in.

After describing the battle situation, the Senior Pastor immediately issued the order: "Hold this village until the cannon arrive and we’ll have fulfilled the Battle Commander’s objective. Before the guns get here, not one step back."

"For victory!" The soldiers thumped their breastplates and, by squads of ten, moved to their assigned low walls and sandbag positions.

Hanske took his place before an earthwork, wanting nothing more than to sleep a while, but with the enemy due at any moment he simply couldn’t shut his eyes.

He didn’t have to wrestle with it for long, because the vampires’ counterattacking force had already arrived.

On the desolate snowy ground, only scattered black dead trees stood.

Beyond the dead trees and rocks, at the edge of his vision he caught a glimpse of a red line rapidly closing in.

"They’re here." As Hanske spoke, an almost invisible black shadow flicked across his field of view.

In the next second, his cheekbone exploded in piercing pain.

"Oh! Fuck!" Hanske ducked back behind the low wall, clamped a handkerchief to the wound, and pulled out a vial of hemostatic potion to pour on.

A lead ball had entered the front of his cheekbone and exited through the side, punching clean through his face.

By then his comrades had already opened fire in return; the three‑pounders roared first, hurling iron balls the size of brown‑orange fruit.

The vampires advancing over the creaking snow were knocked flying or slammed to the ground whenever an iron ball hit.

Blood and dirt splashed up in front of the earthen wall, and once a volley of concentrated fire swept past,

the Holy Alliance soldiers behind the wall immediately rose and fired back in ranks.

Because the defenders had their own fortifications—breastworks and sandbags hardened on the surface after being doused with water—in this kind of firefight, even when outnumbered they still had a huge advantage.

After several exchanges of fire, Hanske sat down with his back against the breastwork, head spinning, probably from over‑expenditure of Mana.

Trembling, he fumbled out a paper cigarette, lit it with a firestone, and slowly recovered a bit of Mana.

These were special military cigarettes, infused with calming herbs to help soldiers quickly restore Mana.

Dark‑red flame flared against the backdrop of snow clouds, and puffs of smoke rose.

In the din of battle, the drag Hanske took on the cigarette gave him a rare moment of peace and comfort.

For some reason, when he exhaled that plume of smoke it suddenly felt like his sister; he realized he hadn’t thought of her in a long time.

He even forgot that the reason he’d enlisted in the first place was to find his sister.

And now, where was she? Maybe she’d died long ago—three years without a word.

Vmm—

That smoke, like his sister, was shattered by flying dirt and stones, and the breastwork behind him shuddered.

Hanske screamed, feeling something kick him hard in the back, flinging him forward.

Sharp shards tore open the scabbed wound on his face; he curled up like a cooked prawn, features twisted.

The only thing worth being thankful for was that the shell hadn’t hit him directly; he’d only been flung by the shockwave.

Even so, it felt like one of his vertebrae had cracked.

He forced himself upright through the pain, and a few squadmates helped him back into the trench of the second defensive line.

"Take cover, take cover, it’s the vampires’ Blasphemous Howl Cannon!"

Shell after shell slammed into the village; houses were punched open, fences and walls collapsed.

Smoke and dust boiled up and blocked all sight; shards of iron and stone ricocheted everywhere, forcing the soldiers to crouch low and cover their heads.

In that moment, Hanske felt like a catfish in muddy water, dodging the countless stones raining from the sky.

No one knew how long it lasted before the shelling began to die down.

He sagged onto the ground, hadn’t even finished venting a lungful of foul breath before Captain Bai grabbed him by the back of the neck and hauled him up: "Form up the defense, form up the defense, the vampire infantry are about to charge."

After the continuous bombardment stopped, it meant the vampires’ foot soldiers were ready to assault.

Ignoring the pain in his back, he limped along, kicking the men of his ten‑man squad, urging them to sprint for the low walls.

Press the cocking lever, load, wind the spring, aim, fire, duck behind the low wall and press the lever again...

When the shelling resumed, he’d yank his squadmates down into the parallel trench to take cover, then go back to the low walls when it ended.

Again and again, round after round, Hanske no longer felt fear or fatigue.

He just fired back mechanically, hit the dirt to evade shells, then got up to fire again.

He suddenly understood—this must be how veterans were ground into shape.

"Hanske, Captain Ten, Captain Ten?"

"Keep your head down!" Hanske shoved the young soldier’s head down. "Want the cannon to blow your skull off?"

The young soldier’s face was buried in the snow, but he still struggled: "Captain Ten, I think the shelling’s stopped."

Only then did Hanske notice the artillery fire thinning out, and that there were cannon firing behind him as well.

He cautiously stuck most of his body out from behind the low wall and saw that on the battlefield where ten thousand had been fighting, countless Holy Alliance Army units were now pushing forward in great strides, while the vampires retreated in disarray.

Those vampires who’d been attacking this plateau were withdrawing in good order.

Farther back, the twelve‑pound guns had finally arrived, ready to bombard the vampires’ rear as they tried to reform.

"Did we win?" Hanske’s voice held a dazed note.

"We won." Captain Bai’s voice was weary, almost devoid of joy.

"What time is it?"

"Ten o’clock."

Hanske stared blankly. Only four hours?

To him it felt like he’d just lived through an entire lifetime.

"We won, we won!"