Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord

The power of muskets was far more exaggerated than that of bows. Although their accuracy was poor, as long as a shot landed, any armor that was even slightly weak became almost useless.

If one rode on horseback it was still manageable, and wearing a heavy cuirass was no problem, but for infantry it became much more difficult.

After all, not everyone was a Father of the Silent Sanctum, able to wear heavy armor weighing over a hundred pounds and still swing a flail while chasing down cavalry.

Thus, not wearing armor in exchange for flexible and lightweight movement became the final choice.

Since they had no armor, the muskets in their hands became all the more crucial.

These soldiers used the Empire’s Iron-Thorn Type III muskets. Their advantages were simple structure, easy maintenance, and fairly good overall quality. If used correctly, they were not prone to bursting.

The drawback was that they were a bit too long. When one stood the musket upright with the buttstock on the ground, the muzzle nearly reached the soldier’s shoulder.

This made loading rather troublesome—at least when standing.

If one lay prone, then loading became extremely strenuous.

Gwen mounted her horse and shouted for the Resistance Army to form a formation. They did not have much time and only managed to spread out about a thousand people—twice the number of the enemy.

—They could not wait any longer. To continue wasting time gathering troops was no different from losing the battle.

Very soon both sides entered visual range. The trumpeter on the opposite side blew the signal, and their soldiers slowly formed ranks.

They gave up their front and did not completely block the Resistance Army’s advance. Instead, they cleverly presented their flank. If the Resistance Army wanted to pursue, they would have to detour, and at this moment what the Resistance Army lacked most was time.

“An infantry battalion. The Imperial Army’s basic combat unit is the battalion. A larger ‘regiment’ is only an administrative structure; they still fight as battalions.” Isaac explained quickly.

“They’re not at full strength. Judging by their appearance they’re regular troops. I don’t know whose subordinates they are, but their training isn’t bad. In the Northlands they count as elite.”

“And in Rhine?” Gwen asked curiously.

Isaac let out a cold laugh.

“Cannon fodder.”

On the opposite side, they finished their formation change with slight disorder, lining shoulder to shoulder in a single row. A drummer on one flank struck the beat, and the soldiers walked forward with their muskets loaded, keeping pace with the drums.

“Heh, a classic Imperial Army tactic. With no cover at all they can only advance directly. It’s classic to the point of being fit for textbooks.” Isaac narrowed his eyes and sighed as he watched.

Gwen also commanded her soldiers forward. She was busy now, unable to ask further questions, but she still glanced over with curiosity.

“You see, they stand very densely. This is the optimal formation the Empire developed through real combat tests. Lord Hughes called this ‘Mass Musket Fire’. Very fitting. Forming a line like this and advancing to the drums actually makes it easier to get hit, and standing too close can even interfere with each other. But it has one advantage—”

“Concentrated firepower.”

“In the Royal Army’s tactical manual there is a line I strongly agree with: Before firepower, all costs appear insignificant.”

“Standing together makes it easier to get shot, but as long as they follow the drums and unleash a continuous barrage, they can kill the enemy faster.”

“The faster they kill, the fewer of their own die. Therefore, Mass Musket Fire can actually reduce casualties.”

Gwen suddenly understood and looked at the enemy’s muskets. She had experienced many battles, but they had all been defensive city battles. The Allied Forces had never deployed elite musketeers, and the Resistance Army lacked experience in this kind of plains warfare.

For example, their formation was crooked and uneven—and more than one row deep. Considering the accuracy of muskets, anyone standing behind was truly likely to hit their own allies. Thus, no matter how many rows there were, only the first and second rows could fire. But enemy bullets did not care whether one was in the front or back.

This formation was only used against cavalry, yet the enemy had no cavalry.

Gwen felt that things were going badly, but they were about to clash. Changing formation at this point was even more dangerous, and the soldiers might not understand her intentions.

She could only order a few Squad Leaders to maintain the formation, then nervously wait for the first exchange.

The soldiers drew closer and closer—now within four hundred yards.

This distance was still beyond effective firing range. At this point the hit rate was too low. The soldiers of the Resistance Army were clearly growing nervous. Watching the enemy march in step to war drums and bagpipes, that orderly sense of discipline carried tremendous pressure.

Mounted, Gwen saw it most clearly. Some panic was already spreading within the Resistance Army. Their formation grew more and more disorganized, and someone even tripped.

They had not even begun fighting, yet morale was already falling.

This would not do!

Gwen bit her lip. The Resistance Army had been trained by Isaac. What she saw now was exactly one of the worst predicaments Isaac had described to her. If things continued, within a few rounds of volleys their morale would collapse completely!

Already under two hundred yards.

Bang!

The sudden gunshot startled her. She turned quickly, only to see Isaac holding a strange weapon and carefully aiming.

Bang bang bang bang bang!

He shook the rotary handle, and the gunshots rang out in a string. Gwen suddenly understood. This must be the Gatling Gun he had mentioned.

She turned toward the battlefield and was shocked to see that with every gunshot, a plume of blood exploded from a military officer or NCO.

In line infantry tactics, officers and soldiers were struck with equal likelihood, so officers often wore extremely eye-catching clothing to help soldiers identify them and receive orders.

This greatly aided Isaac’s aim. It was equivalent to the enemy labeling all high-value targets for him, and he simply picked them off one by one.

When Gwen stared toward him in shock, Isaac was already packing up the Gatling Gun.

“We don’t have many bullets. We can’t waste them. The rest is up to you.”

“This gun can aim? My god, I mean—this thing can shoot as accurately as a bow? And at this range? My god!”

She reluctantly looked at the Gatling Gun again, but she knew this was not the time. She drew her longsword and spurred her horse forward.

“Resistance Army, charge forward with me! Crush these enemies!”

The Resistance Army shouted loudly in response. They ignored formations now. After firing a volley, they charged straight ahead.

The enemy had been frightened by Isaac’s sudden executions and began panicking. At this moment, the Resistance Army had already opened fire.

This volley was fired from slightly farther away—about a hundred yards—so the effect was mediocre. But afterward, the Resistance Army rushed directly toward them.

The enemy soldiers instinctively looked toward their officers for orders, but very quickly they realized that nearly all their officers had been killed.

In other words, the command system of this entire army had gone offline.

Instantly, the entire army fell into chaos.