The cruelest scene of the Great War had appeared. On the German positions, panting old men clutched their weapons as they fought the Entente forces to the death.
They seemed not to know what death was. No one surrendered, and no one fled. Even when the battle had dwindled to the very last man, they still held their posts.
Whenever Entente tanks charged forward, someone would strap on an explosive pack and rush bravely at them, perishing alongside the enemy.
The Entente headquarters was stunned. This was the first time they had ever seen such ferocious enemies. Dante Christophe slowly lowered his binoculars.
The sight before him was simply unbelievable. Germany had held back the allied offensive with nothing but this band of old men. The fighting strength they displayed in defense was scarcely inferior to that of the German Army's main forces!
With the war having reached this point, Dante Christophe could not afford to shrink back. He could no longer spare a thought for the soldiers' casualties.
He did not know why the Germans across from them were fighting so desperately, but he knew that only by crushing this enemy morale could the battles ahead be fought more easily. Otherwise, they should prepare for mutual destruction!
Dante Christophe's face darkened terribly, like eggplant leaves struck by frost—black and purple. In an icy voice, he said, "Order every unit to hit them hard! Send in the supervisory troops! Anyone who fears the enemy and refuses to advance will be dealt with under military law!"
He greatly admired the enemy's courage, but it still could not shake Dante Christophe's resolve. Since they feared no death, then he would grind them down with lives. The Entente had more than enough manpower; the Germans would still be the first to collapse!