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"Too many...how can we destroy so many munitions? There are more than ten military trains that we can see, and we don't know how many there are in the dark?" The Moorish soldier quietly poked his head. whispered.
Pierre blinked, "I have a plan, but the risk is very high... It's very likely that none of us will be able to escape..."
"Please give the order, we are here to work hard. As long as the task can be completed, we don't care about anything else!"
"Okay! Then let's rush out. Did you see the carriage on the far left? There are at least fifty barrels of kerosene on it. We grab this carriage and then turn around and rush back, fighting and throwing torches and kerosene along the way, burning all the subsequent ones. carriage……"
"If God bless us, we can kill their supply warehouse area. Once so much kerosene is ignited, no matter how much inventory the British have, they can burn it all..."
"Do it! This plan works!" The mercenaries are all desperadoes. This is a battle with no return, but no one hesitates.
Pierre gritted his teeth and sneered, "That's it. It seems that we are going to be buried here today. When we finally die, please remember to light me up and cremate me... My body cannot be left to the British!"
Just as he was about to set off, a pair of big hands grabbed his shoulders. The Moorish warrior said quietly, "You can't go. There is no reason in the world to let your employer die. If that happens, it will be a shame for us mercenaries!"
"You go back and return to the ship quickly while the night is dark. We are here!"
"I'm sorry! I can't be a deserter. If I can't see the mission completed with my own eyes, I will never leave here..."
The Moore warriors and the few prepared soldiers around him ignored his protest at all. They smiled faintly and arranged their weapons and equipment in their hands. "Your life is more valuable than ours, and your pocket also records the most precious things in our hearts." ...Stay alive and leave us a hope!”
"If you die... our deaths will become meaningless..." Before he could finish his words, the Moor struck like lightning, and suddenly tapped Pierre on the back of his neck with his knuckles.
Pierre's aorta was hit, his vision went black and he fell to the ground. The mercenaries supported him and carried him to a dilapidated wooden house.
"I'm sorry, sir, you'll wake up in ten minutes. I hope you won't forget your promise then!"
After closing the door of the wooden house, a group of ten mercenaries rushed out of the darkness like tigers and wolves, directly killing the British militiamen who were caught off guard.
The gunshots were as dense as fried beans and the Spencer, with its extremely high rate of fire, was inferior to ordinary rifles in terms of range and accuracy, but it was unrivaled in terms of close-range fire suppression.
The screaming militiamen were swept away in large numbers before they even had time to fire their weapons to resist!
The Moorish warriors wielding kobold knives rushed onto the carriage like panthers. The sword flashed and blood sprayed everywhere, even on the horse's back.
"Get in the car quickly... suppress fire, throw two barrels of kerosene down, stop these British guys!"
Ten mercenaries grabbed two arms carriages as quickly as possible. They lifted the kerosene barrels and smashed them directly on the ground. The pungent kerosene flowed everywhere along the gaps in the stone slabs.
Burning torches were thrown on top, and the entire street rose into flames. The militiamen in the distance were immediately isolated behind the wall of fire.
"Go...go quickly!" The whip was whipped hard on the horse's back, and the carriage quickly turned around and started running wildly on the street, but this time the direction was reversed.
The two horses and two chariots were speeding away, and the militiamen along the road shot at them one after another. However, the militiamen who had not received professional training must be amateurs in shooting moving targets. After one round of shooting, not a single mercenary was killed, but he himself was shot. A large area was swept away.
The mercenaries who were ready to fight picked up the kerosene barrel and threw it at the place where the crowd was the largest. The barrel broke and splashed kerosene all over the militiamen.
Countless British people were screaming in the flames. They didn't expect that this group of mercenaries would actually use chariots to fight. No one had ever seen this brand-new method.
What was even more unlucky were the arms carriages that were parked one after another. Barrels of kerosene were thrown on them, burning torches were thrown on them, and tons of kerosene and arms were suddenly engulfed in flames.
A whole truckload of kerosene was suddenly ignited, and the result was a violent explosion. Tons of kerosene suddenly exploded, and the scene was extremely horrifying.
Boom...boom...amidst the huge explosion, air waves swept across the entire long street. Countless militiamen who could not escape were blown into the air like scarecrows and then smashed back.
In the light and shadow, only dark wooden barrels were thrown into the sky, followed by explosions again and again. It was like a flame mushroom growing on the ground, which could be seen throughout Dublin.
As soon as Major Fehr heard the explosion behind him, his whole back was soaked with cold sweat. "It's broken! The enemy's target is our material warehouse! God, we have twenty tons of kerosene and countless fire starters there. Things!"
"Sir, give me the order and get back the reinforcements quickly!" the officers around the major said eagerly.
Unexpectedly, Major Fehr was really a ruthless character. At the most critical moment, he actually controlled his emotions. He bit his lip and said, "It's too late. No matter how fast two legs are, it can't be faster than four legs... Now we The goal is to eliminate all enemies on the opposite side..."
"Never mind the tricks of the Irish, they just want to lure us back to support!"
"Damn it, how come these bastards are so effective in fighting? And have they learned how to fight? This riot is so well-organized and orderly. There must be some expert guidance behind it..."
"March! All the troops move forward, we must capture the commander behind the Irish! I absolutely do not believe that these potato heads can come up with such a plan!"
"Even if they come up with it, it's impossible to execute it! Bastard... How on earth did they find such elite mercenaries? Where do they have the connection?"
In war, those who can not be confused by the chaos and still be able to calmly and clearly find the rules behind the chaos can be called famous generals.
This major obviously had the prototype of a famous general. He could guess from such a chaotic battlefield that there must be a hidden force behind the Irish, and he could also guess that this force was trying to lure him away... so he rushed forward. His analytical skills and his brain are smart enough.
If possible, Pierre really wanted to kill this officer, because he had just woken up and could see the quality of this commander from the reaction of the British army.
The huge explosion just now woke him up. When he regained his consciousness a little bit, he made a judgment on the current battle situation. "It seems that taking the British retreat can only delay the enemy for a short time. There will still be a hard battle after that!"
"Damn it! Have those Young Ireland parties really disappeared completely? Are they really going to ignore this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?" Mobile phone users please browse and read for a better reading experience.
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