In August 1914, among the more than 1.6 million German soldiers who were invested in the Western Front, Hans Flinz was a very ordinary and representative one. He was born in Potsdam in the Kingdom of Prussia. His father was a shoemaker and his mother was a professional housewife. The two raised 4 sons and 2 daughters together, and lived in poverty but were very down-to-earth. Benefiting from the compulsory compulsory education promoted by the state, Flinz and his brothers and sisters did not become illiterate because of their poor family background.

Afterwards, Flints followed his father as a shoemaker for several months, then began to serve in compulsory military service, and was assigned to the "Iron 17" Regiment. In this army full of honors, his consciousness and belief gradually changed, and strict military training also made his body stronger. In the second year of his service, he was promoted to the first corps because of his outstanding performance. Then the war broke out, and he and his companions came onto the army without hesitation, thus embarking on a journey with uncertain future.

According to the arrangement of the General Staff of the Army, the "Iron 17" Regiment was included in the 6th Corps of the 5th German Army and was deployed in the Lorraine area in the middle of the front. On the day of the war, the "Iron 17" Regiment crossed the border into Luxembourg as the first echelon, occupied this small Central European country without bloodshed, and then attacked the French territory. On August 6, he arrived on the banks of the River Seier, and stayed there until August 19. After defeating the French attack, the entire German 5th Regiment launched a large attack under the command of Crown William and quickly broke through the French defense line in the Ardennes. The "Iron 17" Regiment took the lead and reached the banks of the Maas River unstoppable. Under the leadership of the regiment commander Colonel Rice

Next, the infantry launched three charges regardless of casualties, and resolutely seized a highway bridge marked 118 from the French army. The following fierce battle still revolved around the bridge. Flintz fired all his ammunition and the bayonet broke in the fight with the French soldiers. He had to continue fighting with a Berhetiye rifle picked up from the French army's dead. There were fewer and fewer companions around him, but the sound of guns and cannons around him was strangely dense. From time to time, you could hear the slogans of the French officials urging the soldiers to attack. Flintz was exhausted, and the stab wounds on his face and hands were quietly swallowing up the power left in his body.

"Hey, Flinz, Flinz of Potsdam!"

When Flintz, who was gradually falling into despair and fear, was suddenly excited. He turned his head quickly and saw a pale, weak, blood-colored face. The man was wearing a military uniform in the style of a lieutenant, with wide shoulders and thick arms, but hunched over, like an old man. He covered his chest with his left hand, and looked very bad.

"Sir, are you in good condition?" Flint asked anxiously, how he wished his platoon leader would be followed by a dozen or twenty soldiers, but no second person appeared in the darkness.

"If I want my blood, the French are not capable enough." The lieutenant replied, and he looked around, "You are the only one here?"

"No, there is still someone who only has half a life left." Flints thrust into the corner of the side. There was a soldier with blood on his face. He was wrapped in bandages on his head, arms and thighs, and most of the white bandages were soaked with blood.

"Private Sack Orff pays tribute to you, sir!" said the man, and then he coughed with difficulty.

The lieutenant scratched his head.

Seeing this, Flints then made a suggestion: "Maybe we should take Orff to retreat to the bridgehead position and continue to block the enemy. What do you think, sir?"

The lieutenant sighed: "Well, a few minutes ago, I had just met Captain Motsack, who is now the acting commander of our battalion. Our mission is to defend the existing positions at all costs!"

Flinz knew what this order meant. When he first entered the "Iron 17" regiment, he heard the veterans talk about the most tragic battle this regiment had fought in the Prussian era.

Iron honor is exchanged for the price of blood!

"Last night I dreamed that I was walking on the streets of Paris, and everyone's French took off their hats to pay tribute to us. Our flag was flying on the Eiffel Tower. What a pity... We didn't have the chance to see that scene." Flints sighed.

The second lieutenant comforted him and said, "After death, a person will have a soul. The soul will watch everything in the world in heaven. As long as our army defeats the French and enters Paris, we will definitely see it."

Without hope, Flintz was less disappointed, and he grinned bitterly: "I hope so."

"Shh!" The second lieutenant suddenly signaled Flint to silence, staring vigilantly at the front while opening the security of the pistol.

Flinz was prostrating on the sandbag, holding a rifle and starting to aim.

Fire and fire flashed from time to time in the distance. With the faint light, they saw several blurry black shadows moving towards this side. Although the environment could not determine whether it was an enemy or his own, if the target was placed closer and then fired, with the defensive power of these two and a half people, they could not stop the enemy's charge at all.

Bang...

The rifle in Flints's hand made a crisp gunshot first, and a black shadow fell down immediately. Then, gunshots also sounded on the adjacent positions, which were the defense zone of another German infantry platoon. Although the gunshots fell, they were telling everyone here: You are not fighting alone.

He quickly pulled the bolt and Flints aimed at the next target, but at this moment, a German cry came from the front: "Don't fire, it's your own person!"

"Is it ours?" As soon as the lieutenant poked his head out, a bullet rubbed his head and flew over, which was so shocked that he quickly retracted his head, leaned against the cover, and quickly drew his cross.

Flint decisively pulled the trigger and muttered: "The French tricks, these guys deserve to go to hell!"

Faced with sporadic bullets on the German positions, French soldiers continued to advance, and their recognizable figures continued to increase in their sight. Since the Berchtier rifle was still an old three-round ammunition bay, Flinz threw the empty rifle to Orff for every three shots. The seriously injured German infantry only had one hand, but was still capable of loading bullets.

Although the cooperation of the two ensured the sustainability of the shooting, the limit of the manual rifle was placed there, and the French quickly advanced to the forefront of the position. Just as they accelerated their pace and started charging, a long-lost machine gun sounded on the German position, and a series of bullets poured out, and the French soldiers fell down.

When the enemy entered the range of the pistol, the second lieutenant beside Flint stood up and fired without saying a word. Ruger's pistol was jumping rhythmically in his hand. In a blink of an eye, there were fewer French soldiers holding bayonets.

The second lieutenant bowed and loaded the bullets, and Flinzcha finished firing the bullets in the bullet bay. The French soldiers in front of the position noticed the vacancy and rushed forward with a scream.

Seeing that the enemy had arrived, Flints squatted up and raised his gun to shoot, knocked down a French soldier in front, then stood up and jumped out of the trench, and took another French soldier to stab. The other party was smart and blocked Flint's bayonet with his gun. The two confronted each other for a moment, and immediately two French soldiers rushed over with bayonets. The son of the shoemaker did not have peerless martial arts skills, and he could barely lose his advantage in one-on-one hand-to-hand combat. He was already ready to accept the arrival of death. At this moment, the second lieutenant broke out. He raised his hand and fired five shots in a row, and simply solved the three French soldiers. The mg-08 on the German position also turned the gun to this side in time, killing more than ten French soldiers nearby with one series of shots.

Taking advantage of his machine gun cleaning up the French attacking personnel in front of him, Flint quickly retreated to the bunker, gasping for breath, and changing the rifle with Orff. The second lieutenant stuffed his pistol into the holster and touched a Mauser 1898 on the ground. When he opened the bolt, he saw that it was empty.

Seeing that the lieutenant was planning to search for bullets on the dead German soldiers, Flinz threw the loaded Berhetiye rifle to him: "I have found all I can find, so I'd better use this!"

Although the second lieutenant felt that the French rifle was not very close, he had no choice but to put it in first. Flint looked up and saw the situation, climbed out of the bunker, dragged back a French soldier who had just been shot by the second lieutenant and his rifle, and pulled it into the bullet box around his waist, but there were only seven bullets.

"The situation is not good for these French guys!" Flinz threw the bullets and the rifles to Orff, and then took the loaded Berhetiye rifle from him.

The second lieutenant grinned: "Whoever can hold on to the end will be the winner of this battle."

After a while, the machine gun sounds on the position stopped, and the ammunition consumption of this weapon was as amazing as their lethality to infantry. A German combat team equipped with mg08 usually had 8 soldiers. During the marching and fighting, at least half of them were responsible for carrying bullets. Therefore, until now, the "Iron 17th" regiment could fire machine guns, which was a miracle.

Once the suppression of machine guns disappeared, the French army would re-attack like a wild beast afraid of fire seeing the fire go out. Before that, the French would often use field rapid-fire cannons to bombard the battle, and most German officers and soldiers could not survive such a fighting rhythm.

After a moment, French artillery fire came. Flint counted and the enemy only fired 13 shells this time. It seemed that the French troops stranded on the east bank of the Maas River were also in a dilemma of running out of ammunition.

After the shelling, the sound of cannons was still rumbling in his ears. Flints turned around and looked around. At this time, not only were the fires shining across the bridge and smoke rising, but the winding Maas River was full of battlefields, hundreds of thousands of German and French soldiers fighting each other. Whoever could achieve the combat goal was the winner of this battle, and then added an important weight to the balance of this war that was beneficial to oneself.

"Come on! Come on! Why don't you come! Are you scared?"
Chapter completed!