On the forward position, as the Sauron Army entered the final charging distance, the soldiers of Carnford Mountain Company instead fell into an unnatural silence.
The cheers and excitement from moments ago swiftly faded, replaced by a heavier, more focused killing intent. Only the low voices of officers at every level remained, their brief, urgent orders echoing through the position:
"Check your powder!"
"Confirm your flints!"
"Keep your eyes fixed straight ahead!"
"Check your bayonet locks!"
The soldiers obeyed, their movements mechanical yet precise. Some gave their dry lips one final lick. Some unconsciously tightened and loosened their grip on their gunstocks. Others stared fixedly at the black tide drawing ever closer, its faces gradually becoming clear, their pupils reflecting twisted expressions and waving weapons.
"Listen up!" The Mountain Company commander strode swiftly through the communication trench behind the breastwork, his voice hoarse but clear enough to reach every corner. "Watch the distance markers in your own firing sectors! Shoot only what comes at you from the front—don't fucking look around left and right! The first volley waits for my command! After that, squad leaders judge the timing of their own shots!"
He paused, his tone sharpening until he was nearly roaring. "The Minin Cannons fire only when the bugle sounds! Without orders, nobody opens fire early and exposes the gun positions! And after firing, reload immediately! As long as the Sauron don't cross the trench, nobody gets hotheaded and rushes out for close combat! Anyone who charges out, I'll shoot him first! Remember that!"
"Yes!" the soldiers answered in low voices, their gazes growing sharper still.
At one corner of the position, Tommy leaned against the icy breastwork. His body was still somewhat stiff, but his hands no longer trembled.
He clutched the officer's short gun, loaded in a