Wearing British clothes as a second-generation aristocrat

64. The Argan Campaign 5

The stalemate continued for nearly another hour.

Around noon, after a long exchange of fire, the overheated gun barrels of both sides had cooled down completely, and the remaining smoke was blown away by the hot air. The brief stalemate on the battlefield was immediately torn apart by a new round of violent artillery fire.

After a brief period of silence, the Maratha artillery was the first to complete its reorganization.

The Marathas, with over forty cannons hidden in the blind spots behind the wheat fields, simultaneously turned to target the steadily advancing British right-wing assault group.

This time, the French advisors learned from their previous experience. The Maratha artillery no longer fired in scattered bursts, but instead concentrated all their firepower, built up their potential energy, and unleashed a barrage of fire.

Boom boom boom!!!

The dense barrage of shells tore through the scorching air, crashing down with a roar of flames, precisely covering the advance routes of the British Highland Regiment and the 108th Regiment.

The scorching waves of earth exploded in layers, sending wheat dust and pebbles flying everywhere, tearing the British infantry to shreds.

The rapidly advancing infantry formation was forced to abruptly halt, as a barrage of bullets blasted deep craters in front of the lines, and flying shrapnel and debris continuously claimed the lives of soldiers.

The orderly charging formation was repeatedly torn apart by artillery fire, and the soldiers could only lie down and curl up to avoid the attack, making it impossible for them to continue advancing.

In an instant, the Maratha artillery fire completely shut down all British right-wing offensives, forcefully suppressing Wellesley's meticulously planned flank breakthrough tactics.

"Damn it, f***ing. Where are our artillery? I'm going to shoot that piece of trash." Wellesley was furious as he looked at the infantrymen who were being passively attacked.

However, due to the wheat field acting as a visual obstruction, without a superior vantage point, the British artillery could not visually pinpoint their exact positions and could only passively endure the bombardment, finding themselves in a passive situation where they had no way to use their power.

No matter how fierce and unparalleled the infantry were, under the absolute bombardment of artillery, they could only be suppressed and unable to move an inch.

A stalemate has broken out on the battlefield again, and the situation is becoming increasingly dangerous.

The turning point came from Chrysler, a "gun fanatic".

His eyes were fixed on the trajectory of the incoming shells, his ears listened to the distance of the cannon fire, his eyes watched the smoke and fire rise and fall, and he quickly located the target by combining the wind direction, the trajectory angle of the shells and the direction of the smoke.

His instincts, honed from years of working with artillery and studying artillery techniques day and night, allowed him to instantly pinpoint the enemy's hiding place.

"All the shells were coming from the southwest corner of the wheat field!"

Chrysler was only 75% certain, but the opportunity was fleeting, and there was no time to consult Degen.

Chrysler immediately made a decision and issued a stern order to concentrate fire.

"All gun positions, rotate to the 9 o'clock position and raise the angle by 2 degrees!"

At a command, twelve large-caliber cannons simultaneously rotated their carriages, their dark barrels all aimed at the southwest corner of the golden wheat fields in the distance.

"Lily, Anna, Sophie! Solid shot!"

Boom boom boom!

The three cannons roared first, and the solid shot fired at low altitude crashed into the dense wheat field. Thick stalks of wheat broke and fell in large swaths, and the Marata artillery position, which had been hiding behind the wheat field, finally revealed a small part of its territory.

"Isabella, Victoria, Catherine! High-altitude shrapnel explosion!"

Boom boom boom!

Several shrapnel shells soared into the air and exploded precisely over the southwest corner of the wheat field, raining down a deluge of iron pellets that pierced through layers of wheat stalks and covered the entire area of ​​the enemy artillery position. The gunners hidden in the wheat fields fell to the ground in an instant.

"All remaining artillery, fire freely!"

Boom boom boom

Boom boom boom

The remaining six cannons roared in turn, their barrels vibrating continuously, and scorching shells rained down on the same coordinates one after another.

The southwest corner of the entire wheat field was instantly engulfed in flames and thick smoke. The continuous explosions piled up, causing the earth to tremble violently. The Marata gun emplacements hidden in the shadows were blown up, overturned, and destroyed one after another.

The Maratha artillery, which had been fiercely suppressing the British forces, suddenly lost much of its firepower, and the roar became increasingly sparse. The previously formidable suppressive momentum was completely reversed.

"Looks like I was right." Chrysler was very excited. He immediately summoned a messenger, "Quickly, report to the colonel that I've located the Maratha artillery position!"

Soon after learning the news, Dugan immediately had a messenger report it to Wellesley.

The twelve artillery pieces of the 108th Regiment alone may not be enough to completely wipe out the enemy's artillery group. Wellesley must order a concentrated firepower to completely destroy the Maratha artillery positions.

"Reporting, General! The enemy's main artillery position has been located! It's hidden in the southwest corner of the wheat field!"

Wellesley took the intelligence, quickly verified it with his binoculars, and with a glint in his eyes, immediately ordered the central artillery to shift its firepower across the entire line.

"Order all artillery to abandon direct fire and turn all guns around to concentrate fire on the southwest corner of the wheat field!"

Soon, all of the British artillery turned in unison, and the fire originally intended to bombard the enemy infantry was poured onto the southwest corner of the wheat field.

Boom boom boom—!!!

The continuous explosions completely engulfed the southwest corner of the wheat field, with flames shooting into the sky and thick smoke obscuring the midday sun.

The Marathas' painstakingly constructed concealed artillery positions had nowhere to hide or escape; the gun carriages were blown up, the cannons shattered, the ammunition exploded, and the gunners perished.

Within minutes, the main artillery units that the Maratha coalition relied on to sustain the battle were completely wiped out by British artillery fire across the board.

The final cannon shot ended the night, and the wilderness fell silent.

Half an hour later, the Maratha artillery fire that had been relentlessly suppressing the British offensive completely disappeared. The roar of Maratha cannons ceased on the entire battlefield, and the remaining scattered enemy cannons had long been blown to scrap metal, completely losing their combat capability.

"Your Highness, the battle is over." After seeing the Maratah's artillery completely destroyed, the French military advisor, Paulman, was already heartbroken. He gave Cindia and Bornsler a curt salute, then rode away on his own.

"Damn Frenchmen!" Cindia cursed, then waved to her adjutant and, disregarding the fact that Bornsler's infantry was still fighting the British, led her cavalry away from the battlefield.

"God will punish you for your betrayal, Cynthia!" Bornsler was so angry he almost vomited blood on the spot, but there was nothing he could do.

Under the cover of artillery fire, the British infantry had already begun their assault. If he didn't leave now, he would probably become a prisoner of the British.

"Retreat!" Bornsler said bitterly.

"Should we inform Lady Farzana of the Mughals?" Bornsler's deputy asked.

Bornsler rolled his eyes at him and rode off on his own.

The Maratha infantry and cavalry, who had been barely holding on and stubbornly resisting thanks to artillery fire, suddenly lost their last reliance.

Under the scorching sun, as they gazed at the devastated and utterly destroyed artillery positions behind them, and the commander's flag receding into the distance, their morale collapsed instantly, and the last vestige of their fighting spirit vanished completely.

Without artillery cover or firepower to block them, the British volleys of gunfire, bayonets, and artillery would roll in without any hindrance.

Faced with the British army's well-organized ironclad formation, the remaining Maratha soldiers could no longer muster the courage to resist.

"Run for your lives!"

Someone shouted first, and then countless Marathas threw down their muskets, turned and ran, and a chain reaction of defeat spread throughout the entire area in an instant.

Marata's left-wing infantry scattered and fled, and the cavalry that had been assembled and waiting also broke formation, turning their horses around and retreating hastily.

Soldiers charged wildly, warhorses trotted about, and flags fell to the ground. The entire left flank of the Maratha front completely collapsed, and the fleeing soldiers scrambled back like a tidal wave.

Wellesley ordered the entire army to pursue, and more than 10,000 British troops chased an enemy four times their size, relentlessly pursuing them all the way to the Gavial Gourd fortress in the scorching Deccan Plateau before finally stopping.

Wellesley sent an envoy to demand that Prince Bornsler of the Belar princely state cede territory and pay reparations.