Iron Dynasty Chapter 1087

“Bang bang bang…” A relentless barrage of bullets struck the sandbank before Chang Yuzhu, a response from the allied forces' officers.

“Bang bang bang…”

A concentrated hail of gunfire impacted the sand mound in front of Chang Yuzhu, serving as the allied forces' officers' reply.

“They truly won't appreciate a warm welcome without a bit of punishment,” Chang Yuzhu declared, spitting sand and commanding, “Eliminate them for me!”

As his order echoed, the machine guns atop the sand mound erupted with fire once more, and a torrent of bullets instantly swept over the trenches. Simultaneously, the mortar squad ceased their hesitation, launching shell after shell towards the nearby trench positions.

Aboard the warship, Lei Ming's brow furrowed. The strategy of urging surrender had been Chang Yuzhu's initiative. For Lei Ming, securing Calcutta without a single casualty would be the optimal outcome, but the current situation indicated this was becoming improbable.

“All units, commence assault!” Lei Ming commanded icily. Since the allied forces remained intractable, he would escalate the ferocity of the attack.

Upon receiving the directive, waves of soldiers disembarked from the warships, and numerous troop transports surged towards the shoreline.

Following the soldiers' disembarkation, the fleet would proceed towards the port of Calcutta. These landed troops were tasked with assisting in the port's capture, thereby facilitating the unloading of the ship-mounted field cannons.

This time, a substantial quantity of supplies was also being transported aboard the warships. Controlling the pier signified the establishment of a crucial supply base.

Concurrently, the allied forces' soldiers were being pinned down by the Empire's overwhelming firepower, unable to lift their heads.

Butler, concealed within a tunnel, appeared visibly distressed. The recent onslaught of fire had been his command, fearing that the Empire's propaganda might completely shatter the already faltering morale of his army.

However, the outcome of his order provided him no satisfaction whatsoever.

He had faced numerous engagements in Europe, yet never had he encountered such devastating artillery barrages.

The Empire's munitions comprised potent explosive shells, detonating upon impact with the ground. Furthermore, their accuracy was remarkable.

The allied soldiers, predominantly European, were accustomed to the era of linear volleys and solid shot. Adapting to these explosive shells proved exceedingly difficult.

Were it not for the protection afforded by the trenches, the allied soldiers would have already retreated.

As his thoughts raced, a sudden commotion arose. An officer burst into the tunnel, exclaiming, “The Portuguese have surrendered!”

Butler felt a chill course through him. Though he was the allied forces' commander, his direct authority extended only to the British Redcoats. He lacked the means to command the armies of other nations directly; their compliance hinged entirely on their respective commanders.

In a state of alarm, Butler risked exposure to enemy fire and peered out of the trench, observing the sector manned by the Portuguese. Indeed, at that moment, Portuguese army officers were brandishing white flags, leading their soldiers out of the trenches.

Among the allied contingent, the Portuguese soldiers were the fewest in number, and their stake in Asia was minimal, contributing to their notably low morale.

A flicker of despair crossed his features. Butler murmured, “The allied forces are finished,” recognizing that a single surrender could shatter the morale of the entire coalition.

Precisely as he had surmised, simultaneous to the Portuguese soldiers emerging from the trenches, a continuous stream of soldiers began climbing out, joining the ranks of those surrendering. These troops hailed from France, the Netherlands, Spain, and Britain.

Observing the allied soldiers on the sea laying down their arms, raising their hands, and waving white flags, Lei Ming let out a hearty laugh. “Heh heh, from these surrendering troops, it’s clear the allied forces were merely posturing. With a bit more pressure, capturing Calcutta will be remarkably simple.”

Liu Chen stood beside Lei Ming, his role being to support Lei Ming's endeavors this time. He commented, “In my estimation, a direct charge will finish them. The allied soldiers are in disarray. The mercenaries Britain has conscripted certainly lack the will to fight. Furthermore, the allied forces' appropriation of their food supplies is bound to incite resentment among these mercenaries, many of whom originate from native states near Calcutta.”

“My thoughts precisely. It is indeed time to conclude this charade,” Lei Ming stated with newfound resolve. He then signaled the signaller to relay his command.

On the beach, Chang Yuzhu was the first to receive the intelligence. He instructed the bugler, “Sound the charge!”

“Ding ding ding…”

The clear, resonant notes of the bugle instantly echoed across the entire battlefield.

The bugle's blare ignited action as imperial soldiers, rising from the earth, surged towards the allied forces' trench lines with defiant roars.

The cacophony of battle that erupted across the vast field sent a chill down Butler's spine; this was it, the Empire's final, decisive assault.

Much like the brutal bayonet clashes that followed a devastating volley, this moment would ultimately decide the victor of the battlefield.

“My brothers, we fight to the bitter end!”

As the imperial soldiers advanced, the artillery barrage abruptly ceased. Butler's voice boomed as he rallied the British troops, leading them from hidden tunnels into the trenches.

His sole aspiration now was to use the British army's unyielding bravery to rekindle the fighting spirit of the allied soldiers.

Yet, he had gravely underestimated the imperial soldiers' prowess in combat.

Scarcely had he emerged from the tunnel when stick-like objects rained down from the heavens, detonating violently upon impact.

The British soldiers, swarming into the trenches, were caught completely unaware, suffering grievous losses.

And while the explosions left them reeling, the imperial soldiers materialized at the trench edges, unleashing rifle fire upon the surviving defenders.

Confronted by imperial soldiers advancing like an unstoppable tide, a sense of utter despair finally gripped the soldiers within the trenches.

The mercenaries were the first to crack. Indian soldiers discarded their weapons and beat a hasty retreat towards Calcutta, located behind the trench works.

They harbored no desire to perish for the sake of these oppressive British.

The mercenary contingent, which seemed so formidable, formed the bulk of the allied forces. This chaotic flight of so many panicked mercenaries dealt a devastating blow to the morale of the remaining allied soldiers.

“There's no point in continuing this fight. It’s suicide! I want to go home! Let me go home!”

A soldier's desperate wail suddenly pierced the air from the Spanish sector.

This cry ignited a growing unease among the Spanish soldiers. It wasn't a lack of courage, but rather an inability to perceive any glimmer of hope for victory in this war.

Even if they managed to repel the imperial onslaught, what would be the ultimate gain? The Empire's warships loomed offshore, and their own navy was incapable of breaking the blockade.

In the midst of the mounting hysteria, the Spanish soldiers could endure no longer. As one soldier flung down his rifle and raised his hands, the rest of the Spanish contingent emerged from the trenches, laying down their arms. Soon after, the Dutch and the French followed suit.

“Fifty thousand European allied troops. Three nations, totaling thirty thousand men, and we have twenty thousand. After accounting for casualties, we're left with just over ten thousand. There is no hope, General. We must surrender,”

A British officer pleaded with Butler, his voice filled with desperation. The Empire had committed a staggering thirty thousand soldiers to this conflict.

Coupled with the Empire's vastly superior weaponry, any chance of victory had evaporated.

Observing the relentless advance of the imperial soldiers, who were capturing their trenches with overwhelming superiority, Butler closed his eyes in utter despair.

After a long, heavy silence, he spoke softly, “Surrender. If I can return to Europe, I shall accept responsibility for this disgrace. This defeat is not your failing; it is solely because our weapons and equipment are hopelessly outmatched by the enemy's!”