A conflict caused by a spy case (Part 2)

At the border checkpoint across the river, after the first gunshot sounded, Colonel Martin Ramos nimblely grabbed the telescope and ran to the highest point of the windowsill on the floor, looking at the gunshot scene 270 meters away.

Outside the checkpoint, thousands of Aragon refugees incited by British spies and conspirators, like wounded beasts, slamming the tall outer barbed wire with their bodies. At the same time, all the refugees shouted their slogans with sensation, "Food! Food! We need food!"

Dozens of military policemen with white helmets on their heads were neatly arranged in front and back three formations under the leadership of Sergeant Silva. Whenever the saber in the commander's hand waved down vigorously, a row of soldiers would raise their muskets high and use dense firepower to tilt the bullets in the muskets 50 meters away from the muskets. Then, they cleaned the muskets, loaded the bullets urgently, continued to shoot, and completed the same mechanical action over and over again.

Although people kept screaming and were knocked to the ground, in less than two seconds, the mob behind the shot dead quickly filled the gap left by the former and continued to use their bodies to hit the shaking barbed wire guardrail...

"Damn Sunday!" Colonel Ramos cursed indignantly, because before 4 pm that day, the soldiers guarding the inspection station were going to return to the church in the city to pray, praying with the Catholic priests, praying to God to cleanse their souls.

Soon, Colonel Ramos put away the monoculars in his hand again. It was because he heard the adjutant Ola shouting his name downstairs.

"Captain Ola!" Colonel Ramos held the windowsill and shouted at his adjutant, "Tell me my order, all the officers and soldiers of the security regiment left behind in the city were fully armed and carried ammunition, and within 5 minutes, they would be on the shore of the pontoon bridge. Remember, bring me those two 4-pound cannons."

At 3:12 pm, Colonel Ramos came to the other side of the pontoon bridge connecting the checkpoint. Behind him, 520 soldiers and 2 4-pound artillery had gathered. As for the other soldiers of the security regiment, they were still patrolling various villages on the west bank of the Sinka River and had not yet received any news. The defense of Fraga was temporarily handed over to the city's residents' pickets.

Captain Ola came out of a mill not far away with his military cap and walked quickly to the regiment commander.

"Col. I just asked a few people who had withdrawn from the checkpoint. They said it was a British-army who sneaked into the other side of the river and incited a large number of refugees to cause trouble."

"Damn British?" Colonel Ramos thought in confusion, "Aren't they staying in Portugal? Why did they run to the Catalan border thousands of miles away?"

Time was urgent and the leader of the security regiment could not be allowed to think. He immediately ordered the entire regiment to climb the floating bridge to cross the river one after another, and artillery soldiers dragging artillery followed the brigade of infantry.

At this time, the refugees who had sacrificed hundreds of lives had successfully crushed the first barbed wire. The mobs in the cheers began to receive rewards from the leader, two pieces of black bread mixed with rain and swallowed the last bite of bread. The mobs, inspired by their own leaders and British spies, were ready to continue to hit the second line of defense with their bodies, completely ignoring the oncoming rain of bullets.

"Why don't we stay on the shore?" 20 meters away from the pontoon bridge, a young artillery soldier was working hard to push the huge wheels of 4 pounds of artillery on the muddy road. He whispered to the leisurely and comfortable old gunner beside him who carried long gun brushes.

The old gunman pursed his lips and ridiculed the young man loudly and said, "The insult of the White Helmet will be punished for two days of confinement; beat one of them and will be sent to the quarry to serve hard labor for two years; damn bastard, if the shell you fire accidentally hit Sergeant Silva, the judge of the Military Law Department will cut off your two heads!"

...

On the hill less than 500 meters away from the checkpoint, Major Costa proudly put away the telescope and threw it into the arms of his wife's brother-in-law. He signaled the clumsy messenger and immediately issued an order to Captain Gibson to move the hidden arson ship.

Everything that happened on both sides of the river bank was indeed delightful, and all the plans were in the hands of the Portuguese officer. With just 50 gold coins worth 25 riyals, Major Costa successfully bribed one of the main leaders of the mob and instigated the stormy refugee riot in front of him, including a raft for secret smuggling.

The French responded well, and they knew that they would evacuate all non-combatants as soon as possible, leaving only the strange white-helmet military policeman, with the help of the defense of two layers of barbed wire, stubbornly defend the border checkpoint. Within 10 minutes, most of the security regiments on the other side of the river had assembled and were preparing to cross the river for reinforcements. Of course, the British captain who liked arson would surprise the soldiers on the pontoon bridge.

Just when the Portuguese were serene and contented, Captain Gibson, who received the order to operate, had pushed the raft to the river. Although it was only less than 30 meters away from the lower pontoon bridge, the dense bushes growing by the river seriously blocked the vision of the officers and soldiers of the security regiment. No one could find that the danger was coming in time.

A large number of dilapidated wool jackets or various cotton products were piled up on the raft, and special tincture oil was applied inside and outside. It was secretly prepared by the British side after secretly studying the "Desay Arson Bomb". Not only that, heavy mines (**) with leads were also installed inside the raft, which was powerful enough to divide the pontoon bridge into two.

Soon, the British's terrible tricks began to show their power.

The raft was quickly pushed to the middle of the river by several water ghosts. A red-shirted soldier sitting on the raft lit the torch in his hand with flints. Just before he jumped into the river, he had thrown the burning torch into the middle of a large number of accumulated igniting materials. The raft immediately caught fire and drifted down quickly with the help of the wind and the rolling waves coming from the upstream.

When the raft burned rapidly, Colonel Ramos and his soldiers also noticed the abnormal movement on the river surface. At this time, the raft had turned into a large ball of fire in motion and accelerated toward the pontoon bridge. Everyone stopped, looking at it but was helpless.

The soldiers in the forefront reacted first and tried to speed up the sprint to the opposite shore, but the slippery bridge deck made the running people unsteady, and they fell to the ground one after another, blocking the entire bridge deck passage. Looking at the big fireball that was almost within reach, the recruits sent by the rear were already screaming, and they shouted to retreat; the veterans stared at the officer without saying a word, waiting for the command from the commander to issue, and they knew that Colonel Ramos could lead him out of the predicament, just like the battle a year ago.

"Let's go down! Everyone lie down!" Colonel Ramos made a loud and decisive and wise order, asking the soldiers to lie on the bridge deck and hold the crossbars or ropes that could be kept by them.

The burning raft is getting closer and closer, and it becomes bigger and bigger. It sways in the surging river water without sinking. When the raft hits the pontoon bridge violently, the accumulated burning objects splashed on the bridge deck, making a crackling sound, which then causes the wooden boards on the surface of the pontoon bridge to burn. Then, there is another loud bang, and the explosives on the raft will blow the two wooden boats that built the pontoon bridge and the baffle on it to pieces.

Colonel Ramos pressed tightly against the wet bridge deck, holding the horizontal plate on the side of the floating bridge in his hand. As the explosion began, the bridge deck began to shake violently. When he barely supported his upper body with his elbows, there was a disaster scene in front of him: the floating bridge deck was broken, and the two bridge bodies, which were 3 meters apart, were floating back and forth with the waves, and the fire on the raft had spread to two broken bridge decks.

Among the soldiers who rushed to the forefront, more than 30 people were unfortunately hit by the rafts that hit the pontoon bridge, and the subsequent violent explosions shaking into the cold river water. They shouted and struggled on the turbid river surface, but to no avail. One after another, the rolling waves and the hidden huge vortex drove the soldiers who fell into the water into the bottom of the river, like beasts devouring prey.

The commander shook his head hard, trying to forget the tragic fate of the soldiers who fell into the river. He continued to look back, and all the terrifying expressions of the soldiers were the soldiers' expressions. Looking at his comrades who were swept away their lives by the waves and whirlpools, countless people vomited loudly at the river. The only thing that is thankful is that the two cannons are still docked on the banks of the river and failed to get on the pontoon bridge in time.

"Col. We should retreat!" An officer almost crawled over, and he persuaded Colonel Ramos with a pale face.

When almost everyone began to be timid and despair, and did not dare to stand up and continue moving forward, Colonel Ramos would never give up fighting. Just like a year ago, when the French cavalry raided Hruna, he commanded a group of panicked soldiers, blocking the four continuous fierce offensives of the cavalry regiment, and winning valuable time for the Hruna defenders.

Now, history is repeating itself, and Colonel Ramos must support through the pontoon bridge as soon as possible to win the vitality of friendly forces on the other side.

"We can cover the military police to retreat!" Captain Ora, who knew that the regiment commander would never give up his temper, suddenly suggested.

Colonel Ramos shook his head, explaining, "If he were willing to evacuate, the military police would have returned to the other side of the river. They were holding on to their faith in their hearts, defending the honor of the soldiers, and the Desai flag flying over the checkpoint."

As he said that, Commander Ramos picked up the rope tied to the bridge at one end and tied it firmly to his armed belt. Then, he slowly stood up from the shaking bridge deck and casually took a wide oak horizontal board.

The colonel suddenly turned his head and ordered at the officers: "Gentlemen, either follow me, jump out of the river, and rebuild the pontoon bridge; or retreat back, let the British be behind us, and loudly mock us who had abandoned our comrades!"

Captain Ola took off his wet uniform in shame and began to slap the flames of the bridge deck; the officer who suggested that the commander evacuate also stood up red-facedly. He found a rope, followed Captain Ramos, tied one end of the rope firmly to his armed belt, followed the commander, and jumped out of the break of the bridge deck together.

Inspired by the leading officers, the soldiers on the pontoon bridge were no longer panicked. They helped each other, stood up, and became busy. Some soldiers who knew how to use water jumped directly down the river to help the commanders build bridges at the break; some found spare ropes, wooden boards, and brackets on both sides of the pontoon bridge, one by one, and delivered them forward.

Sergeant Silva, who happened to witness this touching scene, turned around and shouted at the military policemen who were loading the bullets, "Gentlemen, we are no longer fighting alone, persevere, persevere for a quarter of an hour, let the despicable British taste the bitter fruit of failure! Long live the security regiment! Ula!"

"Long live the security regiment! Ula! Ula!" The military police, inspired by the good news, were also excited.

Silva appointed a soldier as a messenger and ran to the break of the pontoon bridge, telling the commander of the security regiment to have no worries, and immediately add two 4-pound cannons across the river, aiming at the mobs that were rushing to the second barbed wire, and conducting indiscriminate bombing.

Five minutes later, the mobs knocked down the second barbed wire, and Silva led the military police to retreat to the wooden house at the checkpoint. They blocked all entrances and exits, leaving only small shooting holes, and continued to resist tenaciously;

Ten minutes later, the temporary artillery across the river was built. Two 4-pound cannons began to fire solid bullets at the mob. Fortunately, each shell that whistled accurately landed on the mobs, knocking multiple mobs with claws to the flesh and blood, and curbing the enemy's arrogance, effectively reducing the pressure on the gendarmerie;

20 minutes later, the 3-meter-long break at both ends of the pontoon bridge had been temporarily repaired by the officers and soldiers of the garrison regiment, and they could barely pass through.

When the reinforcements were about to step across the break of the pontoon bridge, the mob leader was desperate because the British army he had been looking forward to had never appeared. There was no red-shirted figure on the hill 500 meters away.

The leader of the mob, who felt that he was betrayed, could only consider his own way of retreat. He secretly ordered his confidants to carry their own soft and soft things, secretly escape from the battlefield where they were still stalemate, and escape as far as they could before the guard regiment completely surrounded the rioters.

When nearly 500 guard regiment soldiers jumped from the pontoon bridge to the soft river beach, the war became irreversible. The soldiers quickly finished the bullets in the gun chamber, then shouted the slogan of victory, picked up the rifles with bayonets, and rushed towards the small number of mobs that were still besieging the checkpoint.

In fact, after the first gunshot of the soldiers of the guard regiment, most of the mobs woke up. No matter how many people were holding sticks, they were no match for hundreds of fully armed soldiers. The rioters threw the so-called weapons in their hands and fled, hoping to escape the massacre. Even timid refugees fell to the ground, begging for the soldiers who rushed to them to understand. But these people were still nailed to the mud by sharp and slender bayonets.

There is no anger, only ruthless killing!

...

"What a pity!" At this time, Major Costa, who had evacuated 10 kilometers away from the battlefield, kept sighing secretly.

In fact, he chose this attack location in a lot, but in the end, he was unwilling to accept the failure reluctantly. According to common sense, the Catalan Security Corps, which had a deep hatred with the French, should not have fought so hard for the former invaders, but reality told the major that he was wrong, and he was very wrong.

It should be said that even the Portuguese army would not sacrifice themselves to save their allies, the British army. Major Costa believed that he and General Wellington must re-examine and carefully review the Duke of Desay's control over the Catalonian region, because this would have a considerable impact on the future Portugal war situation.
Chapter completed!