The relentless sounds of artillery and gunfire filled the air as Charles moved cautiously along the trench, revolver in hand, shielded by his guards. This part of the battlefield had already been secured by forward troops, who had successfully repelled the enemy, leaving Charles and his party free to advance while issuing commands. Yet, even here, unexpected dangers lurked.
It had been about an hour since the landing, and Charles's nerves had settled considerably. Though the harsh scenes of bloodshed and death surrounded him, he had resolved to face it all with courage. In this era, almost every young man found himself on the battlefield—there were few exceptions.
As Charles thought of the soldiers fighting on the front lines, risking their lives to engage the enemy, he realized how much safer he was by comparison. Moving forward now with guards around him was far better than cowering on a transport ship. If he was going to be here, he needed to match their bravery.
With that in mind, Charles crouched low, advancing just as he had seen others do, his thoughts drifting back to his shooting lessons with Dominique. He reminded himself of firing stances and how to handle a rifle. In battle, survival often depended on one's own skills, and he knew he had to adjust quickly.
Suddenly, a bloodied figure erged from a nearby tunnel, rushing toward Charles with wild eyes and a bayonet aid right at him.
This was the mont Charles had dreaded—the kind where he could rely only on himself. His guards were too far away to help; the ones in front couldn't turn back in ti, and those behind hadn't seen the threat. Charles's mind went blank, his hands instinctively gripping his revolver. Without aiming, he squeezed the trigger.
"Bang! Bang!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Charles emptied all six bullets. Warm blood splattered across his face as the glinting bayonet ca within inches of his chest. The enemy soldier, despite the close-range shots, kept stumbling forward, relentless until the final bullet struck his head. He staggered back, a look of defiance frozen on his face as he fell into the trench.
Tijani, who had been at the front, rushed back to check on Charles, firing additional rounds into the enemy's lifeless body to ensure it was over.
"Well done, Colonel!" Tijani nodded approvingly. "This is your first kill." He then grinned, "Should we fra it as a trophy?"
The soldiers chuckled, but Charles could barely muster a smile. What if he had been slower to react? Would that bayonet have pierced his chest? The closeness of death had never felt so real.
Tijani turned to the guards, perhaps to shift everyone's attention from Charles's mont of vulnerability, and barked, "Check every tunnel thoroughly! Do you realize how grave your mistake could've been?"
"Yes, General," the guards responded, voices heavy with sha. They knew all too well—if they failed to protect Charles, they would never live down the disgrace, not in France nor anywhere else.
After that, the guards moved with heightened vigilance, and their pace slowed. Charles soon noticed it wasn't only his group moving slowly—the entire advance had begun to lag.
"It's the ammunition resupply," Tijani explained. "We've been pushing forward continuously, and our supply line is getting longer and longer."
"We can't afford to stop now," Charles protested. "The slower we move, the more vulnerable we are."
"I understand, Colonel," Tijani replied with a sigh. "But we've already pushed three kiloters inland. That ans our supply line is now three kiloters long. Although the landing craft can transport ammunition, we only have twenty boats, and the first wave of soldiers is already running low on ammo. Do you expect them to fight with bayonets?"
In Tijani's view, this was an inevitable problem with their current approach.
Charles checked his pocket watch. "Even if they have to use bayonets, we must maintain our speed. Waiting only puts us at greater risk!"
Already an hour and a half had passed; the enemy would soon recognize the true threat they posed.
"But…" Tijani hesitated, shaking his head. "Using bayonets would result in high casualties, Colonel. If we push recklessly, we might not even be able to hold the line afterward."
"Then make use of the enemy's rifles," Charles said. "It shouldn't be too difficult to adapt."
Tijani shook his head slightly. "Not difficult, no, but they… may not be accustod to it."
Charles smiled. "This isn't the ti to worry about comfort, General. If we don't keep up the pace, we might lose the entire operation."
Failing to maintain montum would an their encirclent plan was dood. All their landing forces would then be left isolated, waiting to be surrounded and destroyed.
"If we're already facing ammo shortages now," Charles continued, "it's likely we'll eventually need to use the enemy's rifles anyway, since we'll still have to hold this line."
After so thought, Tijani nodded. To secure this line, they would need substantial firepower, especially since the Ottomans would likely counterattack with waves of troops from multiple directions.
"You're right, Colonel." Tijani agreed, then turned and issued a command. "Second wave, swap to enemy rifles and use their ammunition stock!"
"Yes, General!"
This tactic eased the ammunition shortage significantly, even making it almost a non-issue. The Ottomans had left vast reserves of ammunition in their trenches, and Charles's right flank, which had advanced along the road, had captured several supply carts. These supplies were enough to keep the 105th Regint fortified for several days.
The only complication was the design of the Ottoman rifles. Their Mausers were equipped with a stopper, an addition made by the thrifty Ottomans to prevent soldiers from quickly emptying their ammunition. To load a new round, soldiers first had to disengage this stopper, an unfamiliar and slightly awkward step for the French soldiers.
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