"God bless the United States! Charge!" Antoine shouted the order.
The drummers began to beat their drums, and the squadron commander of the first infantry company dramatically drew his saber, pointed it towards the native camp, and yelled, "Advance!"
The militiamen began to march to the drumbeat, advancing company by company under the orders of their squadron commanders.
Over on the British side, an Iroquois chief whispered something, and then also ordered his troops to charge.
The music on both sides was the same: small drums beating, flutes playing, "Di di da… di di da." The soldiers kept pace with the drums, their eyes fixed straight ahead, marching in unison, barely looking at the ground beneath their feet.
In truth, there were usually no obstacles on the ground, but the enemy would generally not allow them to pass so easily.
"Boom, boom…" The artillery on both sides began to fire.
The incoming cannonballs were solid iron spheres; many would skip like stones after hitting the ground, bouncing up again after grazing the earth, continuing their flight towards the enemy lines.
Those flying cannonballs looked like leaping footballs, light and airy, seemingly perfect for a kick. But if one actually hit a foot:
"Crack, crack…" A chorus of bone fractures rang out.
For troops arranged in neat rows, those rolling cannonballs caused casualties no less severe than exploding shells. Whether they were bouncing cannonballs or those rolling along the ground, any and all obstacles in their path would be pierced through.
At a greater distance, impacts with rolling cannonballs usually shattered legs, but if salvaged in time, there was still a chance of survival. At close range, however, many cannonballs would hit the upper body; those flying through the air often took out a good portion of a person. The splattering flesh was enough to make first-time combatants faint.
Trained soldiers, however, were required not only to remain indifferent when comrades fell beside them but also to face flying blood and gore and still advance to the rhythm of the music.
The small drums coordinated the soldiers' movements, while the flutes enchanted their minds. Listening to the flutes and marching to the drums, both armies continued to advance.
Regardless of the splattered flesh on their faces, regardless of the wails around them, they quietly bypassed wounded soldiers ahead and treated incoming cannonballs like mere mosquitoes, continuing their march.
This linear warfare truly was a game for the brave.
As the casualties from artillery fire increased, the difference in the quality of the personnel on both sides became apparent. Although the Western Expeditionary Force's artillery fire was far more intense than that of the natives, causing far greater casualties to the natives, the natives fundamentally did not retreat.
Instead, it was some of the Western Expeditionary Force's armed civilians who succumbed to fear, threw down their guns, and fled, only to be spotted by the cavalry overseeing the battle from behind. The cavalry chased after them with sabers drawn and lopped off their heads.
However, the natives only had two cannons, and their power was truly limited, causing little actual damage to the Western Expeditionary Force.
On the other hand, the Western Expeditionary Force's ten field howitzers (a previous error, the cannons had been reduced to ten), with ample gunners for rapid reloading, fired half of their reserve ammunition during the brief musket engagement, inflicting at least a hundred casualties on the natives.
Moreover, because the fire was concentrated in one direction, the results were particularly significant; that stretch of the marching route was essentially covered with wailing wounded and incomplete corpses.
The two armies finally halted when they were about a hundred paces apart.
"Present arms!" Continental army officers and British officers in the first row simultaneously ordered their ranks.
The soldiers uniformly raised their smoothbore muskets straight up, muzzles pointing skyward.
"Aim!"
Both lines immediately aimed their muzzles at the enemy, taking aim.
From the middle, looking across, both sides were bristling with bayonets, like combs laid flat.
"Fire!" "Fire!"
"Bang, bang, bang…"
Intense gunfire erupted, and the air above both positions was essentially covered by gunpowder smoke, temporarily obscuring the front line from Antoine and others observing from the rear.
Screams rang out in unison; at such close range, hits were almost guaranteed. Soldiers on both sides fell in large swathes, as if combed by a giant comb.
At this point, a key outcome of training was required: the first rank continued to reload, while the second rank quickly moved forward to fill the gaps.
"Fire!" the commander continued to order.
"Bang, bang…"
The exchange of fire continued.
A gentle breeze came, blowing away the smoke and fully revealing the situation on the front line to the commanders on both sides.
"Good opportunity! Their right flank is open, cavalry charge! Charge with me!" Sherman shouted the order, personally leading his horse into the fray.
There was a large gap that had appeared on the native right flank, which had been heavily targeted by artillery fire just moments ago, and the natives behind and beside them had not moved to fill it.
The flank of a musket formation often has the task of protecting the central ranks. If an attack were to break through the open flank at this moment, it would directly impact the unprepared central ranks.
Cavalry, using only sabers, could completely shatter the native musket companies. However, the natives on that side immediately noticed the Western Expeditionary Force's charge, and their cavalry instantly roared and charged towards Sherman's cavalry.
"All troops advance!" Antoine, commanding such a large battle for the first time, shouted the order.
He felt that both sides had already demonstrated their strength, and his side still held the advantage on the front line, so of course, they should commit all troops to expand their gains.
Facing true close-quarters combat, the flaws in the natives' temporary training immediately became apparent. Many people simply ignored the British officers' commands, hastily reloading and firing. Several musketeers next to the central formation even turned their guns and, on their own initiative, fired at the Western Expeditionary Force cavalry charging across.
At this time, smoothbore musketeers had great difficulty dealing with cavalry; only concentrated firepower was effective. Now, the natives, not listening to commands, fired on their own, lacking both firepower and accuracy, making it even harder to hit fast-moving cavalry.
This had little impact on Sherman's charge. He was like an unchained beast, easily breaking into the native musket formation.
The native cavalry, utilizing the advantage of the gentle slope, caught up with Sherman's cavalry despite starting later. It looked like the Western Expeditionary Force might be outflanked, turning the game into one of exchanging their own cavalry casualties for enemy infantry casualties.
At this moment, Antoine's order proved very timely. The rear ranks of the Western Expeditionary Force's musketeers, having advanced with the entire army, were already positioned in front of the open native right flank.
These militiamen, armed with heavy double-barreled rifles, formed neat lines and, using the concentrated, accurate fire of their double-barreled shotguns, aimed from a distance at the native cavalry charging towards Sherman's rear flank. With "bang, bang" sounds, a swath of native cavalry fell.
By this point in the battle, the outcome was already very clear.
Watching their cavalry being shot down in large numbers by the enemy's musketeers, a few horsemen from the British-native allied army galloped out, attempting a rescue. But by the time Sherman's cavalry column had traversed the entire native musket formation, several native chiefs and British officers standing on the gentle slope had already frantically turned their horses and fled in disarray.
In this battle, the Western Expeditionary Force annihilated over a thousand natives, captured over eight hundred, killed two British officers, and captured eight. They seized two cannons, over fifty warhorses, more than two thousand assorted firearms, and countless ammunition.
On the Western Expeditionary Force's side, nearly three hundred men were killed and two hundred seriously wounded. Minor injuries were not counted. Among the seriously wounded, many would have required amputations, and in the past, most of these individuals would have died from infection.
Fortunately, Charles brought many medicines from Kiel Laboratory, so these seriously wounded, like the lightly wounded, were mostly able to survive. For a battle that annihilated nearly half the enemy, suffering only ten percent casualties was already a very good result.
—
If it weren't for many natives seeing the unfavorable situation and abandoning their muskets to flee into the forest, and some native riders also using their familiarity with forest trails to quickly escape through the forest paths, it might have been possible for the Western Expeditionary Force to completely annihilate the Iroquois Confederacy.
If the three thousand native warriors in this camp had truly been completely annihilated, then it is estimated that white people could walk freely in this area from then on.
Subsequently, the Western Expeditionary Force advanced into the native camp and captured a large amount of firearms, ammunition, and other supplies. Just the large number of undamaged tents made Antoine and Sherman smile broadly.
Captured military supplies were to be handed over, but the ownerless items now in the tents were all valuable personal spoils of war. They immediately ordered the soldiers to carefully inventory and collect them.
"Commander, come and see what I've found!" a soldier who was inspecting shouted.
Sherman and Antoine had just welcomed several managers from the Coal and Steel Conglomerate, who were non-combat personnel, into the camp when they heard the soldier's shout. They simply went together to investigate.
"This is… artillery!"
Several people stared dumbfounded at the ground covered with shattered cannons.
Those cannons on the ground all looked newly cast, but perhaps due to craftsmanship or other reasons, they either had cracks or were somewhat deformed. Most of the cannons were simply shattered into several pieces, and not a single one was truly Passed.
"The British actually dared to teach the natives to cast cannons!" Sherman gnashed his teeth in anger.
"Damn British!" Antoine also looked indignant.
In the past, white people often allied with natives, but these white people always adhered to one principle: not to impart advanced weapons and technology to the natives.
Whether British, French, or other Europeans, at most they would sell them some outdated weapons, but they would never teach the natives the technology for manufacturing muskets and cannons.
Because everyone understood that once the brave and skilled natives were armed with firearms, it would be a disaster for the European white people living on the American continent. White people, deep down, were hostile to natives of a different skin color.
And now they actually saw traces of native cannon casting here, meaning the British had already abandoned even the most basic principles.
"No! Not necessarily!" A manager from the Coal and Steel Conglomerate stepped forward, squatted down, and took a look. "They seem to be self-learning cannon casting, rather than directly copying mature technology.
The shapes of these cannons are all the same, but the manufacturing craftsmanship is very poor. I don't think the British are teaching them to cast cannons; it's more likely that the natives are imitating the cannons provided by the British, which is still quite a feat."
"But natives aren't good at iron smelting. The iron for these iron cannons doesn't look like it could be smelted with native technology," Sherman pressed, disbelievingly.
"This iron isn't necessarily of very high quality either!" The manager shook his head, then affirmed, "They've merely coarsely processed high-grade iron ore. If we were to smelt it, we would absolutely not allow cracks to appear in the cannon barrels."
"Is that so!" Sherman and Antoine simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief.
As long as the British weren't teaching them to cast cannons, it was fine.
"This is actually good news, two commanders." The manager suddenly smiled. "Before we left, Councilor Charles specifically instructed us to survey the resources and mineral deposits along the way.
Natives are not good at iron smelting or prospecting, and now they are smelting iron with such high-grade iron ore, which indicates that there must be an easily exploitable high-grade iron mine nearby. If this news is sent back, Councilor Charles will surely be very pleased."
This news was quickly relayed to Charles, and he was indeed very pleased.
Currently, the Coal and Steel Conglomerate's steel output was not yet high, and Charles could meet production demands solely by using iron ore self-produced in Pittsburgh. However, Pittsburgh's iron ore had one drawback: a relatively high phosphorus content.
With iron smelting technology before the open-hearth furnace, it was difficult to remove the excess phosphorus. With the beginning of large-scale steelmaking, these high-phosphorus iron ores had become a major obstacle to the Coal and Steel Conglomerate's steel smelting.
The iron mine discovered near Lake Superior, though relatively far from Pittsburgh, could be transported entirely by water, making it the best alternative to Pittsburgh's self-produced high-phosphorus iron ore.
Charles was indeed greatly pleased upon receiving the information from the Western Expeditionary Force. In addition to maintaining the original reward of one hundred acres of land per meritorious combatant, this time, in the name of Pittsburgh, he would extract thirty percent from the captured spoils to reward the Western Expeditionary Force.