C2875 descendants of the Zhan Musi Party (1/2)
The war scenes that he had experienced flashed before the marshal's eyes. In his entire life, when had he ever been afraid of anything? When had he ever fought in such a useless war?
And the Primordial Art was destined to become the darkest moment of McMahon's life!
The veterans who had fought with him were his brothers and nephews. When he was a teacher, these soldiers were all young men in their twenties.
More than twenty years had passed, and the young men who had accompanied him in Crimea with bayonets had lost their mane of hair and youth.
Forty years in life, who has forty years?
At that moment Mark Mahon felt a terrible sense of defeat. He began to deny himself, to deny everything he had done.
Was what I did really just? What sort of future did I want to bring to the world, to this country, to these soldiers?
They are all in their forties, and are just ordinary soldiers. Being able to work in the Queue length is already pretty good already, but I, on the other hand, advanced all the way to the empire's marshals and dukes!
Was it really fair to them? Today, they were bound to lose this war. Were they going to send them to their deaths in exchange for a meaningless sacrifice just to hasten the peace between the two of them?
Is my strategy wrong or not? What was peace through war? They were simply stalling for time with the lives of these veterans, using the cruelest of massacres to exchange for the Emperor's last breath!
No, no, no... I can't think like this, what I have to do now is for the France, and I have to protect my own homeland!
The veterans looked at the field marshal's ashen-faced silence, then suddenly an old soldier asked, ”Marshal! What's the point of fighting like this? ”What is it for?”
”You said you wanted to make peace through war? I am forty-five years old, I have been at war for half my life, where is peace? I just want to know if I will ever have the chance to die in my bed at home! ”
This question was shared by all the veterans, and all the soldiers present turned to look at McMahon.
The marshal knew that if he did not give his brothers a reasonable explanation today, then the morale of the troops would not be maintained. It would be impossible for them to hold on until nightfall.
McMahon didn't use the tone of a marshal to boast, but sat down next to the soldier. In the distance were the sounds of the Prussian cannon and the soldiers shouting their battle cries.
”Who can die in a bed? ”I can't answer that question because even I can't guarantee that I will die on the bed …”
”I can only regretfully inform everyone that the vast majority of us will not die on the bed, but on the battlefield!”
Hearing the marshal's words, the military officers behind him wanted to stop him in shock, but no one dared to speak out. They thought to themselves, 'Why is it that the marshal is giving us disheartenments now? 'Could it be that if the morale isn't uplifted, there will still be a loss? '
McMahon did not have the time to care about the expressions of his subordinates, he glanced at the soldiers in front of him and calmly said, ”I do not know what your future is, I am not a prophet, but I can at least tell you today … Who are we fighting for! ”
”Is it for this empire? Is it for our emperor? We used to be, but now we're not. We're fighting for our motherland! ”
”What is the motherland? The motherland is the place where we still love no matter how the emperors and kings perform in turns! ”
”What is a France? The France is a type of spirit, a light bulb for the entire European world! ”