Horrors of war in Battlefield 1

Colonel Richard moved his mustache anxiously – the report was not pleasant. The entire 25th battalion of the motorized infantry regiment was killed in just 45 minutes.

Three were killed by the insidious plane "Ilya Muromets", which liked to quietly sneak up on a bored soldier and furiously shit on his head.

Five of them drove off to the restart when they tried to storm the Beaver point on a tank.

Tank – a thunderstorm for infantry. A farting and whistling steel devil, instilling primal terror in all trenches. But not here in Amiens.

Here the famous Renault FT-17 is a frightened little dog, which is kicked from all sides by evil and so nimble attack bombers. Perhaps if the designer had provided windows in which you could see a little more than 45 degrees, everything would have ended differently. After all, all that the shooter can see through his loophole are high-poly bushes and the ass of a cheerfully running away enemy who just threw a smoke blower under your nose. And now the remaining 45 degrees are covered with impenetrable black smoke. But excuse me, Herr Strudel! We have Amiens here, not Florence. And you are the cannon fodder of the German Empire, not Ezio Auditore. Why immediately with smoke fumes?

If the old ladies of Renault https://goldengeniecasino.uk/mobile-app/ had a periscope, like on submarines, we would still sing “La Marseillaise” on German graves, but submarines had not yet been invented, so, as they say in our area, c’est la vie. To which the heartless Internet is sure to mockingly respond: git gud.

The damaged tank would have been taken to the side and patched up, but in the entire glorious French army there was not a single mechanic. This, you see, is not held in high esteem. We here, monsieur, came to Battle to drive, and not to the Car simulator. So fiddle with your hardware yourself, and we’d better take high-explosive mortars and a box of ammunition. With a high-explosive mortar, you walk more cheerfully and sleep more peacefully. It’s a gift that you won’t kill anyone from it, because while the high-explosive shell is flying, the enemy with the whole platoon will march together towards Paris, and you will be left to watch helplessly as the mine plows up empty ravines.

Oh Reverend Genevieve! Why did you leave us?!

Ten more proud sons of France were captured by a well-placed sniper with an aimbot. Angry cries of "Hacker"!"and the detailed details of a wonderful romantic evening with his pious mother did not produce any effect on the scoundrel. From the side of the dividing line, only contemptuous LOL was heard.

Four were ambushed. Two were killed by a grenade. One was killed by an enemy cavalryman, who fearlessly rushed with a saber at engineer Klemar, armed with a Shosh machine gun. Three were lying in drool and snot because there was no need to change the gas mask button. Five people poured in with the words of that same priest from that very meme. The rest died from cringe.

Colonel Richard understood: something had to be done, otherwise the battle would be lost. The enemy has already pressed the "Beaver", "Raccoon" and "Gopher" point. And now I was looking longingly at the “Giraffe” point. And this whole zoo will go to old man Wilhelm in 20 minutes if something is not done urgently. Because the match didn’t go well from the very beginning.

Bullets are whistling all around, mustard gas stinks, Madsen’s beautiful machine gun with engraving and gilding, which was just taken out of the loot box in oil, is now covered in dirt and shit. Half the soldiers are lying on the ground shouting “Medic!", and the doctor, meanwhile, is trying to prove to the entire Internet that he is John Wick, rushing with his trembling Mosinka to a fortified redoubt. We sing glory to the dementia of the brave.

The minutes count down, and the glorious French army at the respawn leisurely chooses their body kits while eating croissants. Or maybe the whole point is that mom asked them to take out the trash at the most crucial moment. And the fate of the entire world order now depends on how far the trash can is from home.

But suddenly the heavens began to tremble from the menacing roar of the Jerekhon trumpets. The mighty belly of a majestic airship appeared from behind the clouds. And fire fell on the Germans from heaven, as if Judgment Day had arrived. And the proud sons of France rejoiced. But the rejoicing was short-lived. The damned Krauts gave the aircraft a Hindenburg Day as soon as it uncovered its guns.

The battle was lost, but you rejoice early, Herr Strudel! You and I are educated people and we know perfectly well how it all ended. We’ll see who wins. Young lady, telegraph to headquarters: We are going to the Argonne Forest. Viva la France! Viva la Liberta!