Wearing British clothes as a second-generation aristocrat

13. Maratha Tactics

"Stay calm, stay calm..."

Lieutenant Colonel Haywood and Major McKenzie were yelling in their respective positions, ordering the greenhorns who had only been in the army for a few months not to fire indiscriminately.

The British soldiers in the square formation gripped their rifles tightly, aiming their guns at the approaching cavalry.

But for these new recruits, the tension was still immense.

Their fingers kept pressing the trigger and pulling it back, and their breathing became rapid.

The scorching wind whipped up red clay dust, stinging their faces, yet not a single person moved. Strict military discipline forced them to suppress their inner panic and await the commander's order to fire.

The Marathas had been fighting the British for nearly 30 years, and they were very familiar with the British army's weapons and tactics.

The Marathas knew that the British rifles were quite lethal within fifty meters, but beyond that distance they were inaccurate.

So the Maratha cavalry kept shouting and yelling, mimicking the British army's retreat, but just as they were about to enter effective firing range, the Maratha cavalry would suddenly pull on the reins, turn their horses around, and gallop away.

But a few seconds later, they would turn around and charge back, brandishing scimitars, spears, muskets, and bows.

They continued to emit piercing shouts and strange cries, but maintained a distance of more than fifty meters from the formation, without actually launching a charge.

"It's a trap!" Dugan saw through the Marathas's plan and said to Tom, "The Marathas are feigning a charge to lure us into firing, depleting our ammunition, and then they plan to launch a surprise attack while we're reloading!"

Tom nodded and said, "This is a test from the Marathas. Hopefully, these recruits can withstand the test."

Dugan raised his rifle and aimed at a Maratha knight who looked like an officer.

The modified rifle, coupled with the base-expanding cartridge, had a kill range of up to 918 meters, and could guarantee accurate hits within 550 meters. Within 15 yards, it could penetrate two two-thirds-inch thick poplar planks, 20 inches apart, demonstrating considerable power.

However, Dugan aimed his gun three times, but gave up each time.

"Major, why aren't you firing?" Tom asked, having noticed the rifling in the barrel while loading Dugan's rifle.

Actually, rifled guns did exist in this era; they were just not widely used by the military.

For example, the German (and still Prussian) Jäger rifle, and the American Kentucky Long Rifle derived from the Jäger rifle, are both rifled guns.

"If I fire, those recruits will definitely fire back," Dugan shook his head helplessly. "Our phalanx might be able to hold out, since we're positioned further back. But Lieutenant Colonel Haywood and Major McKenzie's phalanxes are further forward. If they fire too, we'll be in danger."

"Tom, give the order: all soldiers, no one is allowed to fire without an officer's command!" Dugan shouted at Tom.

"Yes, ma'am." Tom immediately took out the tin bucket megaphone he used at the dock and started shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Attention all officers! Soldiers are not allowed to fire without an officer's order."

"Attention all officers! Soldiers are not allowed to fire without an officer's order."

Tom's voice echoed across the wilderness.

However, hope is beautiful, but reality is cruel.

Most of the soldiers in the 2nd Battalion of the 94th Infantry Regiment were new recruits who had just joined the army and had never experienced a real battlefield. They were already very nervous in the face of the fierce appearance of the Maratha cavalry.

The momentum of the cavalry charge had already pushed their already tense nerves to the limit.

Sure enough, when a group of Maratha cavalry launched another feint attack on Lieutenant Colonel Haywood's square, a green recruit finally couldn't withstand the pressure.

"Bang!"

A crisp gunshot broke the silence, followed by more shots rang out in succession. The sounds of "bang bang bang" echoed along the lake, and white smoke immediately filled the air.

At least 300 soldiers fired, a hail of bullets aimed at the retreating Maratha cavalry, but most of them hit the open ground, raising only a cloud of red dust.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Lieutenant Colonel Haywood roared, but he couldn't quell the chaotic gunfire.

really……

Upon hearing the gunfire, the Maratha cavalrymen in the distance stopped feigning a retreat and immediately turned their horses around, using the red dust as cover, and galloped toward the British phalanx at top speed.

Meanwhile, the British soldiers in the square formation were busy loading ammunition.

Most of the new recruits were not proficient in operating their rifles and were slow at loading ammunition.

Thus, a brief gap appeared in the phalanx's defenses, which was the opportunity the Maratha cavalry had been waiting for.

"Charge!"

The Maratha cavalry, shouting and brandishing their sharp scimitars, charged towards the weakest point of the formation, kicking up clouds of red dust.

What caught everyone off guard was that from behind the locust bushes and thorn bushes around the lake, at least five or six hundred Marata infantrymen, armed with spears and muskets, suddenly emerged. They roared and launched an attack on both sides of the square formation, forming a pincer movement with the cavalry.

"Damn it! Infantry are lying in ambush!"

The recruits' faces turned deathly pale instantly, and they became even more flustered. Some even accidentally dropped their ammunition pouches, and the scene descended into chaos.

"Hold on! Hold on, all of you!" Lieutenant Colonel Haywood, sword in hand, weaved through the ranks, shouting orders, "Front row soldiers, hold the line, bayonets aimed at the cavalry! Rear row soldiers, speed up your reloading and support the front! Don't panic, hold the line!"

Despite being new recruits, the British troops of the 2nd Battalion of the 94th Infantry Regiment were, after all, a well-trained regular army. Even when thrown into disarray, they quickly regained their composure under the command and effective direction of their commander.

The soldiers in the front row gripped their rifles tightly, bayonets facing outwards, desperately holding off the charging Maratha cavalry.

The warhorses collided with the bayonets, letting out mournful neighs. The cavalrymen fell from their horses one after another, and many British soldiers were also thrown away by the huge impact, creating a huge gap in the British square formation.

The soldiers in the back row finally finished loading.

bang bang

Gunfire erupted again, and a hail of bullets rained down on the Maratha infantry. Many infantrymen fell to the ground, but a steady stream of men continued to rush forward and engage the British troops in close combat.

The bayoneted brownbes rifle was no more effective than the Maratha's scimitars and spears in close combat.

As a result, the British phalanx began to falter under repeated attacks from the enemy.

The red soil was stained crimson with blood, blending with its original ochre color. The air was filled with the pungent smell of blood, gunpowder, and the earth itself.

Because Dugan's formation was positioned further back, it was less affected by the impact, which gave Dugan an opportunity.

Dugan raised his rifle and aimed at a Maratha knight about 300 meters away. The man looked like a standard-bearer, holding a flag with patterns that Dugan couldn't understand.

"Bang!"

With a gunshot, the base-expanding bullet maintained a stable trajectory while spinning at high speed.

The flag bearer, Maratha, who was at least 200 meters away from the British front line, responded to the call.

Dugan's bullet struck him squarely in the chest, and blood gushed out instantly.

Without pausing, Dugan quickly handed the rifle to Tom to load, and at the same time took the modified pistol, aimed it at a Maratha infantryman who was trying to rush into the square through the gap, and pulled the trigger again.

The infantrymen fell to the ground, and the British soldiers at the breach immediately moved forward and held the line.

"Major, excellent marksmanship!" Tom exclaimed as he quickly reloaded his gun.

Dugan remained silent, his gaze still intently searching for his target.

Before he transmigrated, he was just a surgical intern and had hardly ever handled a gun.

However, Du Gen himself did go hunting and practice shooting frequently, and this modified rifle was extremely accurate, hitting the target almost every time at such a distance.

"There really are some who aren't afraid of death." Dugan found that after he killed a standard-bearer, another Maratha soldier immediately took his place and raised the flag again.

"Bang!"

Dugan pulled the trigger again.

The newly appointed flag bearer, who had been in office for less than a few minutes, had a burst of blood on his chest and fell headlong off his horse.