The fierce battle continued.
An orc rider had just wounded an Ausser Army soldier with his saber. Before the soldiers could even shout, they were struck in the back of the head by bullets fired from the inner layer of the formation and died instantly. Another orc who tried to squeeze through the gaps in the formation was also shot at close range by the soldiers in the inner layer, and his body was instantly riddled with bullets.
Orc Cavalry, already exhausted from the long charge, and having to deal with both bayonets on the outside and bullets on the inside, quickly found themselves in a passive and defensive position.
The Ausser Army worked in perfect coordination, with the outer soldiers responsible for blocking attacks and the inner soldiers maintaining a steady firing rhythm, their bullets reaping the lives of the orcs like precise scythes of death.
Although the orcs were on the defensive, they still displayed a fierce and fearless attitude.
Ignoring the bayonets at their chests, some orcs lunged forward, their sabers slashing fiercely at the Ausser Army. Blood gushed from the soldiers ' arms, and orcs pierced the Ausser Army with spears. Even as they were about to be hit by a bullet, the soldiers clung tightly to their spears, causing the wounds to tear open even wider.
As the fighting continued, casualties among the Ausser Army gradually increased. At the edge of the originally orderly square formation, soldiers would occasionally fall down clutching their wounds or be helped back by their comrades.
"Medic! There's a wounded soldier here!" an Ausser Army sergeant roared, supporting a soldier whose thigh had been slashed by a saber, half-dragging, half-carrying him towards the inner side of the formation. The soldier's trousers were soaked with blood, his face as pale as paper, but he gritted his teeth and refused to utter a sound, only clinging tightly to the sergeant's arm to prevent himself from falling. His comrades, who had been standing behind him, quickly filled the gap, their bayonets still firmly pointing forward to ensure that the defenses would not be breached.
The makeshift aid station had already been set up, and several medics in white aprons were squatting on the ground, busy at work. Beside them were wooden crates filled with medical supplies, neatly stacked with boiled and sterilized gauze, cotton soaked in iodine, bandages for stopping bleeding, and several cans of cooled saline solution. This was the best medical equipment the Aldor army could currently provide. They had no painkillers or anesthesia, so all they could do was clean the wounds and apply pressure to stop the bleeding as quickly and meticulously as possible to minimize the soldiers ' pain and risk of infection. However, compared to the rudimentary method of simply bandaging with strips of cloth in the past, the current disinfection and hemostasis measures could significantly reduce the mortality rate of the wounded.
Soldiers with arm injuries were brought in; the wound was deep enough to expose the bone, and blood was still seeping out. The medics quickly helped him onto a wooden board covered with clean linen, and first used tweezers to pick up cotton soaked in iodine to carefully wipe the skin around the wound, their movements gentle yet swift: "Bear with it, the iodine disinfection will hurt a little."
A few years ago, iodine was successfully extracted from algae in a laboratory in Lakeheart Town. After testing, it was found that iodine tincture made by mixing it with alcohol had a powerful disinfecting function, so it was immediately promoted in the medical community in Northwest Bay, including the military.
The moment the iodine touched the wound, the soldier convulsed violently, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and he involuntarily groaned. After disinfection, the medic took out a bandage about three inches wide, gently wrapped it twice around the wound two inches above the wound, secured it with a buckle, and then slowly tightened it until the bleeding rate slowed significantly. He also paid special attention to the color of the soldiers ' arms to avoid the tourniquet being too tight and causing tissue necrosis.
Soldiers, whose shoulder blades had been pierced by spears, were also brought over. His breathing was already somewhat rapid, and blood kept gushing from the wound on his shoulder blade. You could even vaguely see the torn muscle fibers. Every breath he took pulled on the wound and caused excruciating pain.
The medics first had two assistants hold him down to prevent him from struggling in pain while their wounds were being treated, and then carefully cut open his uniform with sterilized scissors.
When the scissors touched the fabric around the wound, the soldier couldn't help but flinch, afraid that the fabric would rub against the wound and cause even more pain. The medic stopped and patted him on the back: "Hang in there a little longer, the longer you wait, the more it will hurt."
The medic pressed the wound with gauze soaked in saline solution, while using his other hand to clamp the bleeding point inside the wound with hemostats and quickly tied a knot to stop the bleeding. Although the coolness of the saline solution could slightly relieve the burning sensation, it also made the stinging pain of the wound more pronounced. The soldier's face became even paler, and his lips lost all color, but he still endured it until the medic covered the wound with multiple layers of sterile gauze and then wrapped it with layers of bandages to secure it. Only then did he let out a long breath, his back already soaked with cold sweat.
Beside the first aid station, several soldiers with minor injuries were treating their wounds themselves. They took out small bottles of iodine and gauze from their first aid kits, first wiping away the blood around the wounds, then quickly wiping the wounds with iodine-soaked cotton pads. Some couldn't help but gasp, gritting their teeth as they spread the iodine evenly, afraid that incomplete disinfection would cause the wounds to fester. After wiping with iodine, they wrapped the wounds with gauze, leaving a little looseness when tying the knots to avoid excessive pain.
These first aid kits are for every Ausser Army The standard equipment for soldiers, though containing few supplies, allows lightly wounded soldiers to treat their wounds immediately, preventing their injuries from worsening and enabling them to return to the front lines as soon as possible to continue fighting.
The battle raged on in the distance, and casualties among the Ausser Army continued to mount. But the medics at the aid stations remained calm and efficient. They quickly treated the wounds while constantly reassuring the soldiers with simple words: "Just bear with it," "It will be over soon," "You're brave enough." These simple words of encouragement became the soldiers ' spiritual support as they endured the pain.
The fighting continued, but the orcs' momentum had visibly weakened. Their once dense formation had long since scattered, and the remaining orc riders either hesitated to advance around the outer perimeter of the Ausser Army phalanx or fell one after another under the barrage of bullets and bayonets. They no longer possessed the ferocity and fervor they had shown at the beginning.
The corpses of orcs, humans, and warhorses were piled up on the ground, and blood flowed down the slopes, forming dark red streams on the withered meadows. Even the wind carried a heavy smell of blood.
Abar stood on the high platform at the rear, his hands gripping the battle axe at his waist tightly, his eyes filled with rage and resentment. He watched his cavalry charge towards the Ausser Army phalanx time and again, only to be bounced back as if crashing into an iron wall. Each charge was accompanied by heavy casualties—loyal orc warriors were now falling one by one on the way to the charge, never to rise again. His own forces had suffered heavy losses, yet the Ausser Army phalanx remained as solid as ever, like an insurmountable fortress blocking the orcs' path.
"Why…why can't we still win…" Abar hissed, his voice filled with despair. He recalled the last invasion of Aldor, when the orc army was repeatedly overwhelmed by the enemy's cannons and phalanxes, ultimately forced to retreat in disarray. And now, his main force, assembled with all his might, was still unable to gain any advantage against the Ausser Army, even on the orcs' home turf, the Great Prairie.