Chapter 1480: Chapter 38: Siege (Part 8)_3
“Can’t dismantle the move?” Gessa asked with a stern face.
Mason answered under pressure: “Then we just force our way through.”
Gessa stared at the young fellow from the United Province for a while, then suddenly laughed hoarsely, “Aren’t you the ones who cherish the lives of common soldiers the most? Now you seem quite unreserved?”
Mason detected the hostility in Colonel Gessa, realizing that not only Woods Frank but also Gessa Adonis was under immense pressure.
“‘Only necessary blood shall be shed,’ was Marshal Ned Smith’s instruction,” Mason responded neither humbly nor arrogantly, “And do you remember one thing? The troops Minister Cornelius commands only range between four to six battalions.”
As soon as he finished, he still couldn’t help but add, “Of course, that’s assuming the intelligence you gathered is accurate.”
“Of course it is accurate,” Gessa said coldly, “More accurate than knowing how many hairs are on my head.”
“So, no matter how much preparation Minister Cornelius has done, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s severely outnumbered,” Mason spoke with increasing clarity, “Therefore, if he wants to win this battle, he has to achieve a very, very, very effective casualty exchange ratio.
“Considering the size of force we can deploy, and the critical point of morale collapse, even a one-to-three ratio is insufficient; he needs a one-to-five, or one-to-ten ratio to have a chance at winning this siege battle.”
Mason’s gaze became sharper, “And such an exaggerated casualty ratio can only be achieved by relying on strong fortifications to defend and fully utilize firepower.”
Mason steeled his heart and continued, “So I believe, as long as Jansen Cornelius is willing to leave the fortified area for field battles, even suffering a one-to-two or one-to-three casualty ratio, we should unreservedly commit our forces to exchange with them.
“Magit Island is just such a place, seemingly a trap prepared for us, but actually it’s a death ground for the enemy. They’ve left the solid fortress, deliberately luring us over.”
Richard Mason resolutely declared, “And what we must do is to fight this battle, to the end!”
Inside the Central Army Tent, there was complete silence; Woods Frank was at a loss for words.
Gessa Adonis scrutinized the Artillery Major for a long time, and then asked harshly, “Kid, if I remember correctly, you’re also from the United Province, right? Why are you so ruthless to your compatriots?”
Mason was silent for a moment, suppressing his anger and grievance, he countered with dignity yet full of force, “From the first second of this conversation, you were suspicious of me because of my origin. So I want to ask you, aren’t you a Paratu yourself? Why do you fight bravely in River Valley Village?”
The tension in the tent was stifling Woods Frank to the point of suffocation; he never imagined that the amiable Senior Richard Mason could have such a stubborn side.
Woods Frank also never thought that it would actually be his old superior who first took a step back.
“Wrong, kid,” Gessa heroically sat down, speaking candidly, “I never doubted you, I was just curious, how did someone from the United Province end up here, serving a Venetian?”
“Destiny,” Mason cast his eyes down.
“Destiny,” Gessa chewed on the word filled with magical power, recalled his own experiences, and couldn’t help but smile bitterly, spitting emphatically, “Destiny, it’s a damn thing.”
“General,” Mason saluted, “Tomorrow, the Iron Peak County Infantry Regiment, White Mountain County Infantry Regiment, and the reinforcements will arrive at the camp. Please allow the Iron Peak County Infantry Regiment to participate in the upcoming offensive.”