In the depression adjacent to the farmhouse, a "Celtic Warrior" painted on the side of a turret with R-115 numbers covered with simple branches, which looked like a bush from a distance. The fat chariot captain wearing a leather chariot hat lay on the hatch of the turret, holding a pair of small shock-resistant armored soldiers' telescopes to peek at the surrounding fields. When he saw abnormal movements in the northwest, he silenced his voice and issued combat instructions to his crew members:

"Wow, the enemy's cavalry is here, at our 11 o'clock direction. Simon, load the f-bomb; Sean, load the bullet; Stephen, don't start without my order."

According to the technical standards of the 1920s, the "Celtic Warrior" is a very excellent main battle tank. It has excellent firepower, maneuvering and protection. It uses a five-person crew with a clear division of labor. The combat efficiency is significantly improved compared with the usual four-person crew. With the command of the fat chariot, the loader quickly stuffed a flare into the barrel chamber. The machine gunner controlled the 7.92mm machine gun in the front right of the vehicle body. Another machine gun equipped by this chariot can be used for measurement and adjustment of the main gun shooting position, and can also kill targets outside the vehicle. It is directly controlled by the chariot's rotating pedal and the coaxial machine gun firing pedal.

"Michael, the enemy cavalry are five or six hundred meters away from us, so that the flares will pass over their heads."

"no problem!"

While responding, the gunner quickly turned the main gun pitch handle, and the turret also rotated slightly under the motor drive, and all adjustments were completed in three seconds. Immediately afterwards, the gunner with a bright eye simply pulled down the firing handle next to the main gun pitch handle.

The 50mm tank gun was bombarded and showed its power.

In a blink of an eye, a light ball that was hundreds of times brighter than the moon appeared in the sky. In the field, a cavalry team of about thirty people was touching the defending positions under the cover of gunfire. The light of the flares made their silhouettes clearly appear in the vision of the Irish chariots.

Convinced that the cavalry were British, the fat chariot commander ordered with a sprinting speed: "The machine gun fires! Simon, h-bomb!"

The machine gun on the front of the vehicle immediately roared openly.

The bullets without tracer bullets were not easy to detect. Before the British cavalry could dodge, a series of bullets had knocked down five or six people. The coaxial machine gun of the chariot was immediately adjusted to the position, spitting out a series of flames. The tracer bullets used to calibrate the shooting direction were particularly eye-catching this night.

Accompanied by the crisp sound of the blasting bolt closing, the loader reported loudly: "Reloading is complete!"

The tracer bullet plunged into the cavalry ranks, so the gunner fired the main gun without hesitation. The power of this h-grenade, namely the he grenade, was equivalent to several offensive grenades. It broke through the air along the trajectory of the coaxial machine gun bullet, landed on the ground with a bang, instantly blowing out three or four cavalry and their mounts.

The fat car captain lying at the hatch of the turret looked at the bloody, cruel but exciting battle scene through the telescope. The fat on his face trembled with the opening and closing of his jaws: "Simon, let's have another shot!"

There were not many grenades left on the ammunition rack, but the loader still took one shot without hesitation and stuffed it into the barrel as fast as possible. After two consecutive shots, the narrow space inside the chariot began to smell choking smoke. Fortunately, the British cavalry's chariot was far apart was not very threatening. The turret hatch and escape door of this Irish chariot were open, and the crew members did not need to wear gas masks during the battle.

Two other Irish chariots lying ambushed near the farmhouse followed closely and entered the battle. In less than half a minute, the British cavalry team in the field "disappeared" without a trace. On the battlefield today, a group of cavalry that lost their speed was not as good as a group of well-trained infantrymen, so the three chariots quickly stopped shooting.

The whistle of soldiers expressing excitement came from the farmhouse, and the members of the chariot team also slapped their high-highs to celebrate, but the fat chariot, who was still lying at the hatch of the turret, not only recovered from calmness, but even felt worried in his eyes. He held a telescope and focused on observing the situation on the other side of the defense line. Judging from the distribution of light caused by gunfire and explosions, there were several fire support points in the coalition positions that were still holding, and many moving figures could be seen in the trenches, and the originally healthy northern position of this defense line had basically been swallowed by darkness.

After about five minutes, the sharp roar of long-range artillery bombardment suddenly sounded in the sky, and the heavy shells flying from the sea hit the rear of the British army far away. Regardless of the effect of the artillery bombardment, the huge thunder and rushing momentum alone was enough to greatly encourage the soldiers of the coalition.

The heavy artillery bombardment was under the ongoing process, and a position under the control of the coalition suddenly flashed with explosive flames. This abnormal scene meant that the defenders on the position were fiercely resisting the attackers. Soon, several black shadows climbed onto the position, and after a sudden flame dissipated, the defenders' firepower was suppressed.

If those were British Vickers light chariots, the "Celtic Warriors" could be killed within two kilometers, but the outline and posture were clearly all of the heavy chariots. The fat chariot captain stared at the shadows that ran through the trench. In the previous battle, his chariot consumed 49 armor-piercing bombs. With a conservative hit rate of 40%, there were also twenty hits. But not to mention eliminating twenty British chariots, the results of the battle tonight may be less than five. Some targets were still not trapped after two or three armor-piercing bombs. However, it can be basically confirmed that the results of the destruction were obtained within a distance of four or five hundred meters, which gave him a new understanding of the actual performance of the British heavy chariots and the battlefield power of his own chariot guns.

The rumbling guns and cannons on the battlefield did not stop for a moment. The surrounding area of ​​the farmhouse was two or three kilometers away from the front line. At this moment, it became a "pure land" that was quiet in the midst of chaos. The roar of a motorcycle approaching could also attract people's attention.

During this period, both the German and Irish troops, two-wheeled motorcycles were special tools for communications and scouts, so when motorcycles and cool motorcycles appeared here, people naturally realized that this was related to changes in the battlefield situation.

The fat chariot captain looked back curiously, and when he saw the motorcycle driving into the field hospital, he turned his gaze back to the coalition defense line that was ravaged by British chariots. At this time, the soldiers could be seen fleeing from the position, and the British chariots that crossed the trench used artillery and machine guns to carry out ruthless killings. This situation did not happen before because the coalition's field artillery and chariot troops were able to slap British chariots that stabbed through the positions in time and effectively, and now there is no force to stop them from raging at will.

Less than two minutes after the motorcycle appeared, the battlefield hospital built around the farmhouse became turbulent, and the crowd began to move south slowly. Most of them were lightly wounded people who were not carrying weapons and could move on their own. There were also many people who stayed. Several officers walked back and forth, loudly comforting the people, saying that cars would soon come to evacuate them.

The soldiers who had retreated from the defense line also arrived at the battlefield hospital when they walked southwest. Some came to seek medical treatment, while others were following the people around them. They found that there were chariot troops here, and the frustrated coalition soldiers immediately found some spiritual comfort. At the greeting of a German school official, they did not cross the farmhouse to continue retreating, but stopped and turned to the defense on the spot.

When the German academy officer came to the Irish chariot numbered R-115, the motorbike's correspondent arrived just in time. The man was about in his early twenties, and his two thick eyebrows were unforgettable. He wore a standard German infantry helmet and a Mauser M1927 semi-automatic rifle on his back. He passed it in a slightly hoarse voice: "Gentlemen, I brought the command of the 2nd Mixed Corps Command from Abersohh. The armored troops were about to fight back. All units should steadily defend under the conditions of their ability. Artillery, wounded and baggage units can retreat to Abersohh first for rest."

"Armored Forces? Is it our 3rd German Chariot Regiment?" The German military academy officer was covered in mud, but he still maintained a standing posture with his head held high and his chest held high, showing his tenacious military demeanor.

The German correspondent responded respectfully, "As far as I know, sir. When I came, I saw them assembled west of Abersohh, with at least one hundred chariots and a considerable number of armored vehicles."

The German Academy officer brimmed with boxing: "Great! If nothing unexpected happens, we will soon be able to repel the British and recover the lost defense."

The fat chariot leader listened to the conversation between the two Germans without saying a word. He was not particularly proficient in German, but he could still understand the words of these two people, especially the number of the 3rd Chariot Regiment of the Great Germans, which was already well-known for its blatant record in suppressing the French revolutionary armed forces.

The German military academy officer immediately turned his attention to the fat chariot commander: "Can this chariot commander understand German?"

The fat car manager replied in a jerky German: "It's a bit reluctant."

"We want to defend here." The German Academy officer said at a very slow speed. After speaking, he declared the keyword "defense" in Irish.

"You speak very well in Irish." The fat driver complimented in Irish.

The German military academy officer with a high attitude was a little unhappy, but from the overall situation, he turned to the fat commander and his colleagues in Irish to make a request for cooperation in combat.

"In the absence of contact with superiors and clear instructions, we should obey the command of the highest rank, whether he is an Irish officer or a German officer." The fat commander extended a sentence in the wartime regulations of the Irish army to express his position.

The stereotyped German was very satisfied with this. He put his hands on his hips and whispered: "Very good, we will implement field defense here, you provide fire support and be responsible for dealing with those British tanks."

"As for the order." The fat chariot leader replied, "But, sir, please be careful that there is not much left in our ammunition, and we need to replenish 50mm caliber armor-piercing bullets and 7.92mm caliber machine gun bullets in time."

The German academy officer frowned: "I'm afraid I can't do anything about shells, but it should be no problem to get some machine gun bullets."

After saying that, he waved his hand and summoned a German non-commissioned officer, rolled up his tongue and gave him a few instructions. The non-commissioned officer took a few soldiers to the farmhouse.

"I don't understand very well." The fat chariot commander spoke German to the communications officer who was about to leave, "The 3rd Chariot Regiment should have started landing before the evening. Why not support the defense line when the battle is at its most intense?"

"Sorry, sir, I'm only responsible for sending messages." The communications soldier grimaced at the fat captain, then started the motorcycle, and left handsomely.
Chapter completed!