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King of Great Britain

The history of medieval England is tumultuous and grand, from the Norman Conquest to the Magna Carta, with modern civilization gradually taking root on England's green pastures. Jeff, a modern-day office worker, is well-versed in the history of various countries around the world, yet has no practical use for his knowledge. Until one day, he is transported to medieval England and becomes a prince. Just as he is about to make his mark and realize his ambitions, he is stunned by someone calling out, "John." John... King John, the "Lackland"! He has actually transmigrated into one of the most infamous kings in medieval history!

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97 Chs

Chapter 28: The Advance of the Gun Formation

Guillaume felt that if he had to describe the present John in one word, it would be "peculiar."

These days, most nobles had some personal hobbies; some liked hunting, some enjoyed reading. But someone like John, who had a passion for military training, was something Guillaume had never encountered before.

Over the next few days, John was constantly on the move, teaching the Irish how to use long spears.

"Lower your long spears!"

With the command issued, the Irish complied with John's request, lowering their long spears. The whole formation resembled a hedgehog, with long spears bristling, exuding a grand aura.

Of course, this was John's idea.

The knights observing from the sidelines naturally looked down upon these infantry drills; they still believed that traditional knightly education was the most effective method.

Even the mercenaries felt that excellent infantry were merely auxiliaries to the cavalry. They thought it would be better for John to just hire some mercenaries from Saxony, as the Germans were the finest infantry in all of Europe.

Only John regarded these Irishmen as treasures, but the Irish didn't see it that way.

The initial few days of crying and complaining during training made them realize one thing: not training well would result in real beatings.

So, the Irishmen began to take it more seriously, even showing signs of enthusiasm. In their spare time, they would gather in groups to practice, as they had developed a fear of their officers after the initial days of tough training.

John was naturally pleased with this development; he hoped to see these men improve on their own.

More importantly, these Irishmen had developed a fear of the officers. The Bretons almost had them at their beck and call; whatever the Bretons commanded, they were willing to do.

This reminded John of Frederick the Great's saying: "Make soldiers fear military law more than death."

When facing a frontal charge by knights, morale was actually the most important factor. Almost all infantry would retreat when faced with a charge by heavy cavalry. Such retreats were the root cause of defeat; the fear of the front-line soldiers would affect the overall formation integrity, and once the formation loosened, the cavalry would slaughter the infantry.

If the infantry could maintain a tight formation, even if they couldn't withstand the charge of the cavalry completely, they could inflict significant casualties on the enemy.

Even if it took four infantrymen to deal with one cavalryman, it would still be worth it.

Although there weren't many particularly strong cavalry units in Ireland, John believed that his vision should not be limited to Ireland alone. After all, his brother in Aquitaine commanded a large cavalry force.

But this was not something these Irishmen could comprehend; all they cared about now was not getting beaten by the officers.

As the Irish continued their training, Bruléton and Petit Roche stood together, pondering what John was up to.

"I think truly excellent warriors are knights," Petit Roche said, crossing his arms. "Only knights can learn those combat skills and apply them in battle. These people," he gestured dismissively, "are absolutely not capable."

But Bruléton disagreed, "I think you're somewhat mistaken."

Petit Roche remained silent, merely arching an eyebrow.

"You knights always think about one-on-one combat, especially young knights like you. But the situation on an actual battlefield is completely different. Infantry will always outnumber knights. Have you seen His Highness' movements?" Bruléton pointed towards John, who was currently holding a long spear, its butt on the ground and its head angled forty-five degrees towards the sky.

"This move is to kill warhorses. His Highness' tactical training is ruthless; he intends to use the lives of the first two ranks of infantry to break the charge of the knights, then have the following infantry finish off those temporarily immobilized knights."

This explanation furrowed Petit Roche's brow. In disbelief, he said, "Sending these groundlings to kill knights?"

Bruléton didn't elaborate further. Though John's current training regimen looked simple, it was actually highly effective in terms of casualty infliction.

The cost was the lives of those Irishmen.

Knights were accustomed to battles that weren't so bloody; many knights found themselves surrendering after realizing they couldn't defeat their opponent. The victor could obtain a large amount of loot, while the loser only needed to surrender enough loot.

But John's behavior was more about sacrificing his life for life.

He didn't consider the surrender of those knights, nor did he seem to want to consider it. What he was doing now was teaching these Irishmen how to kill the enemy with the highest efficiency.

"Isn't this too bloody?" Petit Roche shook his head. "Prince's approach like this will surely be condemned by the nobles."

Being condemned was inevitable, and John knew it.

Bruléton said, "I don't care about all that. I just need to do my own job well. The task His Highness the Prince gave me is to train these soldiers, and I don't care about anything else."

Bruléton's indifferent attitude made Petit Roche feel disdainful. He disliked this war merchant's attitude, but out of politeness, Petit Roche didn't say anything, just expressing his attitude through silence.

His father's task for him was to serve the prince well, not to cause trouble here.

"Forward!"

John personally led the Irishmen to form a phalanx and step forward, step by step. Mixed among them, Breton mercenaries maintained order and shouted commands to keep the soldiers in step.

"Lay down your pikes!"

Laying down their pikes while marching was equivalent to transitioning from marching mode to combat mode, a test for the soldiers, but they had practiced it many times before.

This time, there shouldn't be any problems. John nervously observed the soldiers' movements, his left hand involuntarily clenched.

As each pike was laid down, the entire phalanx continued to advance steadily. A wall of pikes appeared instantly, like an impenetrable fortress, which filled John with awe. Although this exercise was not perfect, it had indeed achieved John's desired goal.

This was the phalanx he wanted.

John felt as if he could already see himself in the future history books, adorned with titles like great tactician, military strategist, and military reformer. He had already placed these titles upon himself.

"Halt!"

Another command rang out, and the Irishmen halted their steps completely, obeying John's orders without hesitation. The entire phalanx stopped advancing instantly, disciplined and orderly.

To have trained such an army, John naturally felt an overwhelming surge of pride. He felt that before long, this force could be sent out to test themselves against someone.

So, who would be the most suitable opponent now?

John's eyes turned northwest. The invisible Supreme King Rodri may be the best opponent.