More than 20 minutes later, more than 8,000 serf conscripts, who had suffered enough training and torture during the day, were roughly pulled out of their sleep.
The barracks were in chaos, and many soldiers were still rubbing their sleepy eyes and not fully awake.
When they learned that they were about to fight the main force of the National Defense Force, they felt as if they were in a dream.
"What's going on? Isn't this really some kind of drill?"
"Don't they all say that the National Defense Forces are still besieging the ancient fortress more than forty miles away? How did they come here?!"
"Are we really going to the battlefield, or are we going to fight Governor Bonaparte..."
"You also said that if we win the battle, each of us will be given fifty gold coins? Will anyone believe such nonsense?"
...
Complaints abounded in the huge military camp. The soldiers reluctantly put on their clothes, received their muskets and ammunition, and followed their commanders and foreign instructors to the plains on the outskirts to gather.
Master Justin and Sir Robert also hurriedly rode two fast horses to the plain. As the two top leaders of this army, they of course had to come to the battlefield in person.
And when the serf conscripts saw the men appearing on the battlefield disheveled and smelling of alcohol, even the dullest soldiers knew that they must have just left a luxurious banquet.
The smell of food residues on the old man's body immediately made the surrounding soldiers frown. You must know that during these days of intense training, no soldier dared to say that he had eaten enough for the whole day.
Master Justin looked at his own army in front of him, at their uniform uniforms, muskets, and fairly neat formations, and he felt a little at ease in his heart.
The evening breeze also made his drunken head sober up. He looked at the soldiers, looked at Sir Robert with a slight uneasiness, and said incoherently:
This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! "These soldiers should be able to stop Laurence Bonaparte, right? I mean, they were trained by your people. Of course, it's not that I don't believe in your people, they all
Great, very experienced...Sorry I got off track, I meant...are you confident?"
Sir Robert couldn't help but rolled his eyes, took off one of the black leather gloves on his hand, twirled his fingers and said in a deep voice:
"If I'm not wrong, Laurence Bonaparte must have divided his troops to guard the ancient fortress and let another army attack the town of Figari, as we had expected. After all, Bonaparte can't do it overnight.
No, we didn’t even capture that ancient fortress in one night, right?”
"Yes, yes, that's definitely the case." Although he didn't think about it at all, Mr. Justin couldn't help but nodded in agreement.
"In this case..." Sir Robert touched his chin and analyzed:
"The troops used by Bonaparte to attack are definitely not large in number, probably only three thousand or even less. In this way, we still have a great advantage in defeating the enemy with the eight thousand troops in front of us."
Although the drunken Master Justin did not understand Sir Robert's analysis at all, after hearing the conclusion that the advantage is mine, he couldn't help but get excited, and with the help of alcohol, he began to fantasize about capturing Governor Bonaparte alive.
"Haha, you little Bonaparte brat!"
Master Justin narrowed his eyes, raised his palm and waved it twice in the air. This was the scene in his fantasy of slapping the captured Bonaparte.
Sir Robert on the side rolled his eyes again. He also looked at the army in front of him nervously, and his palms couldn't help but start to sweat.
Of course, what the two people present did not know was that what they were about to face was not a small group of troops that had been divided into troops, but a main force of 6,000 soldiers composed of the Corsican Defense Force and the French garrison.
Chapter completed!