Wearing British clothes as a second-generation aristocrat

61. The Argan Campaign 2

By 11 a.m., the wilderness of Argan was scorching hot under the midday sun of South Asia. Waist-high golden wheat stretched out in endless rows, and the dense, seven- to nine-foot-tall wheat stalks completely blocked out the view of the land.

The Marathas artillery was hidden behind the vast wheat fields, while the British artillery positions were very conspicuous.

With Wellesley's order, the British artillery opened fire, and the thunderous roar of cannons signaled the official start of the Battle of the Argans.

The military band played the "Grenadier March" with great enthusiasm. The three battalions of the Madras Infantry Regiment in the central British army began to carry their rifles and march towards the distant enemy, following the beat of the drums.

"Load, fire!" The Maratha artillery commander was French and very familiar with the performance of the French artillery used by the Marathas.

Just as the British infantry steadily advanced to three thousand yards, the Maratha cannons began to fire in unison.

Boom boom boom

The roar shattered the silence of the wilderness, and the scorching shells tore through the air and slammed into the British ranks.

The wheat stalks were ignited by the high temperature of the shells, and tiny flames, accompanied by thick smoke, darted about. Dust and the smell of burning mingled with the pungent odor of gunpowder, scattering everywhere.

Long-range artillery fire was inherently difficult to guarantee accuracy, and the Maratha artillerymen faced even greater challenges in aiming through the dense, tall straw. Most shells missed, with only one stray shell accurately destroying a British field gun.

However, the bulls pulling the artillery were suddenly startled, roared, turned around and ran wildly, causing another artillery squad to scatter and rush straight towards their own lines.

The three Madras indigenous infantry battalions, which had been advancing steadily, were disrupted by these bulls, causing quite a commotion.

"Now!" The commander in charge of the front line, Marata, was none other than the French officer Paulman who had been defeated in Assaya. He quickly seized the fleeting opportunity and immediately ordered Farzana's mercenaries to charge the Madras infantry regiment.

At the same time, 5000 Maratha cavalrymen also launched the charge.

Although these cavalrymen were untrained militia, their large numbers made them formidable, and the sheer number of 5000 cavalrymen charging together was quite frightening.

The Madras infantry regiment was thrown into chaos as their lines were breached. Farzana's mercenary tactics were highly effective; as soon as they broke through the Madras infantry's lines, she could deploy troops to the left and right flanks, attempting to divide and encircle the Madras infantry regiment.

Meanwhile, 5000 Maratha cavalrymen bypassed the Madras infantry regiment's lines and charged back towards the British second line of defense.

Polman believed that as long as the Maratha cavalry charged forward, they could crush the British army in one fell swoop.

Given the Madras Infantry Regiment's past performance, Wellesley did not expect the Marathas to break through his lines so quickly.

Left with no other option, Wellesley spurred his horse forward, its hooves pounding the scorching earth and scattered straw. He raised his longsword high, his voice steady and sharp, piercing the deafening roar: "Hold the line! Scotsmen, hold the line!"

Clad in red woolen uniforms and tartan kilts, the Scottish Highland soldiers stood motionless, forming a solid defensive line that withstood the Maratha charge and became the only steel bulwark in the chaos.

What is puzzling is that the Maratha coalition, which held a decisive advantage in the battle, has yet to launch a general offensive.

Wellesley, of course, was unaware that he had made a mistake by positioning Dugan's 108th Infantry Regiment in a prominent position on the right flank.

This led Polman to believe that it was a bait to lure him into attacking the right flank, and he suggested that the superior forces be used to attack the British central flank by taking down the two princes, Cindy and Bornsler.

However, Cindy and Bornsler had a conflict at this time, especially since two battalions under Bornsler's command had mutinied the day before due to unpaid wages.

Therefore, both Cindia and Bornsler were hoping that the other side would send more troops so that they could preserve their own power.

However, seeing that the forces of Cindia in the middle were already pressing the British army, Bornsler concentrated his own forces and launched a fierce attack on the 108th Infantry Regiment.

Whether it's a trap or not, the British central force can't support the right flank anyway.

Therefore, the 19th Light Dragoons, the right wing of the British Army where Duggan was stationed, fought an extremely tough battle against the Bornsler heavy cavalry.

These heavy cavalrymen wore traditional Indian armor, while most of the British cavalrymen were unarmored. Although these light dragoons were equipped with cavalry rifles, they were still overwhelmed by these Maratha cavalrymen and had to engage in close combat.

These Marathasipai cavalry were also equipped with muskets, and as a result, the 19th Light Dragon Cavalry suffered heavy casualties, and in the ensuing chaos, the cavalry scattered and fled.

Subsequently, the Maratha cavalry launched several probing charges against the 108th Infantry Regiment, but were repelled by the concentrated volleys of gunfire and artillery fire from the British.

However, as more Maratha cavalry and infantry began to pour into the 108th Infantry Regiment, Dugan began to get a little nervous.

"Has the central route already collapsed?" Dugan gratefully climbed to a higher vantage point, raised his binoculars, and looked towards the British central route.

"..." Dugan frowned. Although the Marathas had not yet broken through the middle lane, the British army was clearly being suppressed by the Marathas.

"No wonder they were able to deploy so many troops to the right flank." Dugan couldn't care less about the center now; he immediately ordered the artillery to fire at full power to kill as many Marathas as possible.

At that moment, Captain Chrysler, who commanded the regimental artillery, was anxiously awaiting Dugan's orders.

The scorching heat, the choking smoke, and the deafening sounds of battle on the battlefield were completely inaudible to him; he could neither hear nor see them.

In his field of vision, there were only twelve cannons lined up in a row, their dark barrels gleaming with a metallic sheen.

These twelve cannons were his lifelong love, comparable to his lovers. He personally named each one and maintained it day and night, engraving it with his own unique tenderness and sharpness.

Upon hearing the messenger's order, Captain Chrysler became incredibly excited, as if he had been injected with adrenaline.

"Lily! Low trajectory! Clear out the infantry cluster in front!"

Upon hearing the call, the gunner at position number one swiftly began work, skillfully completing the entire process of drilling, pouring propellant, loading the shell, and pushing the barrel, with fluid and precise movements.

boom!

The cannon trembled slightly, and then suddenly burst forth with blazing white flames. The solid shot whistled low through the wheat fields and slammed into the densely charging Marata infantry, instantly blasting up a sea of ​​people, with shredded wheat and blood mist flying everywhere.

"Anna, Sophie! Fire both cannons simultaneously! Suppress the left flank cavalry!"

boom!

boom!

The two cannons roared simultaneously, and two shells flew out together, accurately striking the overwhelming cavalry charge on the left flank.

The high-speed shells shattered the momentum of the cavalry charge, sending riders and horses flying several meters. The dense charging formation was instantly torn open with two huge gaps, and the panicked warhorses neighed and fled, completely disrupting the rhythm of the enemy's left flank.

"Isabella, Charlotte! Raise the elevation! Use indirect fire to cover the enemy reserves behind enemy lines!"

The two howitzers quickly adjusted their mounts and raised their elevation. Unlike the swift and domineering direct fire, the two parabolic trajectories accurately drew across the sky, crossed the sea of ​​people at the front, and landed in the Marata Reserve Infantry Regiment waiting in the rear.

A series of deafening explosions rang out, and shrapnel swept across the surroundings, throwing the enemy reserves into disarray and making it impossible for them to advance and provide reinforcements.

"Victoria, Catherine! Aim at the enemy's standard-bearer!"

boom!

boom!

The two cannons were precisely aligned, their muzzles locked firmly on the Maratha flag bearer waving his battle flag in the distance.

With a flash of light, the shells arrived instantly, shattering the enemy's battle flag and its commander, sending shredded cloth and blood and flesh raining down.

"Elizabeth, Grace! Close-range shotgun blasts! Target: enemy infantry!"

Faced with the relentless advance of enemy soldiers, the two cannons decisively switched to shotgun loading, unleashing a barrage of grapeshot that swept across a range of more than ten meters ahead like a torrential rain. The Marata soldiers at the forefront fell to the ground in droves, their flesh mangled and bloodied, carving out a death zone in front of the lines.

"Olivia, Helena, Diana! Free fire from all sides! Leave no blind spots!"

The last three cannons no longer locked onto a fixed point, but instead fired in rapid succession, following the trajectory of the enemy's densely packed charge.

The incessant roar of artillery fire, layer upon layer, covered the entire right flank of the battlefield, with explosions rising and falling, relentlessly suppressing the densely packed Maratha infantry and cavalry.

The entire artillery squad was highly coordinated, with each member performing their duties seamlessly: drilling holes, pouring powder, loading shells, firing, aiming, and igniting—the entire sequence of actions was repeated rapidly and smoothly, without the slightest delay.

The scorching hot cannon barrels were quickly cooled down with a damp cloth soaked in vinegar, and after a brief cooling period, they were fired again, pushing the rate of fire and power of each French cannon to the limit.

Chrysler's eyes grew increasingly fervent, and his overall mental state became more and more excited.

Seeing the shells crash into the enemy ranks, Chrysler felt as excited as if he had violently stumbled into the secret garden of the goddess he had long yearned for.

Each shot was an entry, so after all twelve cannons had fired once, Captain Chrysler was so excited that his eyes were bloodshot and he was breathing heavily as he spoke.

Chrysler watched as his twelve "lovers" unleashed their power amidst the smoke and fire, shattering wave after wave of enemy charges, a near-obsessive excitement and laughter spreading across his face.