Chapter 674

Standard Tera calendar, 942.m41

Amegiddoton planet, main continent, Hades nest

Six months after the siege——

When he saw the simple warrant, Hartman Paul still couldn't believe that he had become a real leader - although his regiment was composed of scattered veterans and losers and teenagers over the age of 14 with temporary signs.

Their nickname is Hades 9th infantry regiment, which sounds good, but in fact, their equipment is very poor. About half of them can only take simple live ammunition weapons, and their heavy firepower is limited to two heavy explosives and a few logging guns.

Therefore, soldiers often make complaints about themselves as "cannon fodder", but they are actually worse than the hundreds of soldiers who appear before Hartmann. He feels like he is a nanny.

What's more, the Zhongchao rail transit hub they were ordered to defend seems to have been attacked by the enemy recently - after six months of fierce battle, the bottom of Hades nest has basically fallen, and the remaining humans can only continue to fight tenaciously in the Zhongchao with high walls.

However, not all places are protected by parapets, such as this transportation hub, but the advantage is that its location is relatively high and can form a certain height of repression.

Although the shadow season has passed, the night sky in amegiddoton is still dark and lusterless, just like the ragged military uniforms everyone wears day after day.

Suddenly, the sunrise at dawn cut through the night sky like a dagger, as quiet as a knife, and the dull red light penetrated the black sky.

Finally, the sun rose and threw a cold Tan light into the continuous trenches.

The red stars are huge, like roasted rotten fruit, and the light of dawn shines on the earth thousands of miles away.

Hartman Paul woke up, his limbs and body aching.

He climbed out of his temporary resting nest dug in the trench, and his boots kissed the gray mud in the trench - where the originally covered mud shield was missing.

After months of hard work, he now looks as strong as a cow, with some fresh tattoos on his furry broad arms and a thick and fluffy beard.

He stood up yawning in his military uniform with a black belt.

In the trenches, under sandbags, gabion walls and sharp rolls of rusty barbed wire, the soldiers also got up to the sound of drums.

Coughing, panting, and whispering are intertwined, like the sounds of ghosts wandering in the morning.

Matches were lit under the low pitched parapet: everyone was checking their weapons and wiping the moisture off them - the firing device was repeatedly pulled out and pushed into the chamber.

At the same time, the soldiers in charge of night vigilance began to sleep their return sleep.

The soldiers who woke up came out of the temporary rest place, lined up in the camp and received their food rations.

Although there are no specific regulations, the barracks also have their own rules. Veterans are always in the front row, while those baby soldiers are always at the end.

"Hello, sir!"

In a salute,

Hartman struggled through the mud and looked into the long, winding trenches to see where the sleepy, pale, tired sentinels came back.

Ten kilometers away, lights flickered on the huge communication tower between the huge unloading platform and the front assembly plant.

In the dark and secret corner of the guard post, the sentry standing in a camouflage cloak stood upright with dry soil on his body.

Then the sleepy sentinels felt that they had been photographed. It turned out that the shift change came, so they joked with each other and exchanged cigarettes.

The night Sentry is a hard job, because it's too tired, but it's very important, because what green Pi likes most is night attack - those beasts have endless strength, and they can always make new tricks day and night.

For example, two days ago, they killed a guy who was about to sneak into the kitchen and pour dung into their food.

Looking at the Sentinels, Hartman felt that they were like ghosts returning to the grave - or that all of them were ghosts.

Under the breast wall of the trench, the cook was burning coffee like things on the shabby small plate on the fusion stove. A pungent smell immediately floated into Hartmann's nose and caught his attention.

Of course, there can be no coffee in this place. At most, there are only "coffee like" things. Of course, only the emperor knows how far this thing is related to coffee.

"Give me some of that."

Colonel Hartmann, who had been promoted, quickly crossed the trench and came to the cook. The old man was in his fifties. He was thin, solid and unhealthy. His left ear was wrapped in gauze. Hartmann picked it up from the ruins. It is said that he once had a prominent position in Zhongchao,

Is the owner of a luxury hotel.

But now, go to hell with everything. Everyone is the same.

"All right, sir."

The old man nodded and handed Hartman a crooked metal cup with bad dates. His old eyes were full of fatigue.

"How many things are there in the warehouse?"

Hartmann pursed his lips, holding the cup in his left hand, enjoying a warm cup.

The old man was not only a cook, but also their logistics director, because Hartman was completely unfamiliar with this.

"Not much. There are still 20 boxes of protein blocks, and there are only five bags of starch left in the corpse -"

Then his voice was interrupted,

In the orange sky, a team of scarlet fighters whizzed past the trench and flew north.

Soon, the casting temples of the mechanical gods on the horizon spit out a lot of fire, and the interior of these industrial cathedrals is burning with flames.

A second later, the dry wind heard the loud sound of bombing.

Hartman sipped his drink and watched the fighter fly away. The void shield of nest can only cover the spire of nest now, so the green fighter bombed almost every day.

Everyone is not surprised.

Back on the ground, I realized that the thing in the cup was really hard to drink,

Hartmann couldn't help

Muttered to the Cook:

"What a good thing."

Shook his head,

Hartman lowered his voice and said to the old cook:

"Everyone's ration will be halved from the next meal."

"Ah? Sir, it has been reduced by half before. Everyone almost didn't eat me alive. I'm afraid you won't see me cook the next meal."

"Everyone is joking. In fact, everyone knows."

"Is there no supply behind?"

Hartman didn't answer, just a cold smile.

"Don't ask, do what you should do..."

Suddenly, he thought of something, let the other party closer to himself, and then said in a very low voice:

"In the evening, you secretly make some for those kids and ask their captain to pick them up in separate time."

"I see."

After drinking coffee, he walked another kilometer along the winding trench. He saw a soldier awakened by the loud noise of a close-range laser gun hitting a sandbag, followed by bursts of shouting and swearing.

It turned out that someone was shooting at the mice, and the mice that could not be cleaned were biting the plastic sealed box containing food with their lizard like teeth.