Chapter 151

"The wind is southeast and East. The wind is two knots. It's a breeze!"

"Anchor!"

"Gather the cross sail, open the bow sail and catch the sail!"

"Raise the sail!"

"The Jackdaw is heading west! Cruising attitude!"

At ten o'clock in the morning, the command sounded on Lake Pontchartrain. The Jackdaw slowly left the shore on the waves and began a new round of cruise towards the battlefield less than a kilometer away from the lake.

On the seventh day of the alert, Lorraine had given up the aimless search for enemy ships on the vast lake, and instead, like the iron felt camp, he cooperated with the actions of the count's guard to conduct targeted cruises.

Generally speaking, in order to match the vehicles and horses and bumpy roads, his ship needs to maintain a low speed of 3-5 knots, travel no more than 8 kilometers per hour, and travel for about two hours to reach the battlefield lake shore.

It is said that this is the best plan to take into account "demeanor and speed".

Lorraine calculated an account. As the host of a war and the only commander of nearly 8000 mercenaries, it takes the count four hours to go to and from the battlefield every day, two hours to and from Kent manor, plus the time to deal with official business in the military camp

In fact, the talented general is busy every day, and his real time on the battlefield will not even exceed two hours.

This time may not be enough for a small naval battle.

Is the army so idle?

Or did the count tell the Baton Rouge Legion that the war was far from over? They still have a lot of time to justifiably intercept smuggled arms?

Sure enough, the political world is too difficult to understand.

Lorraine sat in the bow, lazily legs, looking at the blue sky, white clouds, the blue waves and sails on the lake, and sighed a long breath.

"Meow?" white ear rubbed his thigh comfortably.

Lorraine reached out to get the little fat cat and pulled it up a few times. "I can't run anymore. Say, how much did you eat today?"

"Ship... Captain." Noah timidly stood behind Lorraine and argued for her soul mate, "white ears can't get used to the fish in the river. He has reduced the meal standard these days. Pierce beat the fish into mud and mixed it with milk and biscuits. He barely eats a little, not much."

"How much is not much?"

"About... 300 grams."

"Three hundred grams is also a big bowl! Which cat can eat like it!"

Noah deflated her mouth and whispered, "other people's cats can't do divination... White ears are very hard."

In this world, even Noah will be stubborn.

Lorraine looked up at the sky and sighed sadly. He threw his hand away and threw the fat cat back to its doting owner.

Noah was happy: "Captain, are you upset?"

"Well... The British don't know when they will do it. The count is idle every day. The war has been fought for nearly two months, and our plan has begun for more than ten days... When can I recover my capital if it goes on like this?"

"Count galvis... Isn't he going to end the war? I heard from the sailors that the British haven't launched an attack for a long time. Mercenaries are fighting the Indians these days."

"I don't know." Lorraine scratched his hair. "In the last interview, the count clearly said that he was tired of the war. Karen also said that the mercenaries sent to the front line these days were far greater than the loss and withdrawal. He should be ready to enter the final stage of the surge. But if he only stayed in the front line for two hours a day, can he really be sure of the war situation?"

"It's not his job to analyze the war situation. The staff committee of the governor's office is stationed on the battlefield, and they are in charge of the emergency response and specific command. The count only needs to decide the strategy." Katrina stepped on the deck and threw a single telescope. "It's still calm today after half the journey."

"You just want to tell me that today is another futile day?"

……

Beating the marching drum, Robbie and his comrades walked in the dense woods.

He was a sergeant drummer of the iron felt battalion of the seventh regiment of the third division of the Baton Rouge Corps. He was ordered to participate in training for seven days. He was already very familiar with the oak forest under his feet.

Where the ground is flat, it can be faster, and where the branches are horizontal, it needs to be slower.

Battle posture marching is the strength of the iron felt camp. Lieutenant Colonel Elvin's most frequently said sentence is that "the launching speed of the first round of shooting determines the survival probability of the team". The whole iron felt camp takes this as a standard.

They do not seek progress and never take risks, but they also obey orders and undertake the most rigorous training.

That's why there is the world-famous iron felt camp.

Their survivability is the strongest of the entire Louisiana army, and even, perhaps, the strongest of the entire new French army.

But today, Robbie's drums are much more chaotic than in the past. Laymen may not hear them, but their comrades in arms who get along day and night have long been aware of them.

The second lieutenant who served as the flag bearer raised his hand: "stop the drum and rest in place for five minutes!"

Under the order, the drum stopped. The gunmen in the front row tilted their rifles forward with a neat and uniform action, stopped and leaned against their feet, and then spread out to find a dry trunk to rest their tired feet.

The second lieutenant frowned and went to Robbie: "Sergeant senna, why are you absent-minded today?"

"Sorry, sir! Sorry, sir!"

"I don't need to apologize. I just want to know what makes my drummer upset."

Robbie's face stiffened, turned the drumstick and hesitated: "Lieutenant, for seven days, the lieutenant colonel has never executed a military order for such a long time. He said that fatigue is the enemy of survival, and all tactics must take into account the physical fitness of soldiers."

"This is just a training. The enemy is imaginary. Maybe the purpose of the lieutenant colonel is to train our physical strength and will."

"The enemy may not be imaginary!" Robbie snapped the drumstick. "Yesterday, after we were responsible for the fall, I saw the lieutenant colonel riding side by side with the three major, and had been discussing the response after the attack."

"How do you know what they are discussing?"

"Lips! La Funa's mother hates me. Every time we meet her, we communicate with lips across the river. This is the secret of love!"

The second lieutenant looked at his drummer and patted Robbie on the shoulder. "Being familiar with [waiting for me in the firewood room] is not proficient in lip language. Sergeant, tidy up your mood and concentrate. If you knock like this again, our soldiers will trip over the roots."

Robbie was disappointed. He saw that the second lieutenant didn't trust him at all.

"Yes..." he stood at attention and saluted reluctantly. Then he turned around. There was a clear gunshot in the forest, and a warm splash covered the back of his neck.

He saw more than a dozen crested and painted Indians sticking out of the dense branches and leaves on the branches of the oak tree.

He heard that the second lieutenant behind him fell powerlessly and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

He felt the confusion and horror of his comrades in arms. He ordered to shoot immediately. It was clear that each gun was ready to go. It was clear that those guns were in their hands, but no one launched a counterattack against the target close at hand.

They need clear orders!

Robbie held the drumstick tightly, raised his arm violently and knocked heavily on the blood splashed skin, Dong!

"Find the Indians! Enemy attack! Counter..."

Bang bang!

Three shots rang out in all directions at the same time. Two lead bullets hit Robbie. One passed him in the chest and beat him away. The other hit his arm and the drumstick broke away.

He felt severe pain, his strength seemed to be sucked away by something, and he could no longer control his body.

He fell on his back beside the second lieutenant, twitching and staring straight at the golden crown.

Rafna, your mother... She's right.

Goodbye