Chapter 179 Introduction to Statistics

The tiger lies in its nest and cannot come down from the mountain, and it is useless to lure the snake out of its cave.

Seeing that there was no movement from the fortress defenders, the Hurds ran back dejectedly and surrounded the bridgehead again.

Just as Lieutenant Colonel Jasika expected, the Terdun Division did not lose order. It was just an illusion to be in chaos and fleeing in a hurry.

Rather, it would be better to say that the rout could be staged so realistically without leading to a real rout, which proves that Chief Telton still has control over his tribe.

The clouds are low, the winter wind is chilling, and vultures are circling in the sky, heralding more death and carnage.

Seeing the barbarian army defeated and returning, the soldiers and militiamen were disappointed and a little nervous.

No one sang hymns anymore, and morale was not as good as before.

I was singing with tears of gratitude just now, but now I'm completely muted.

Winters was a little happy. He wanted to point his nose and ask everyone: "Obviously it was us who led you to victory, but you thank God in turn. What kind of truth is this?"

But this is too rebellious, so I can just complain to Bard.

Compared with the dull atmosphere among the soldiers, the officers were chatting and laughing easily.

The first round of siege by Teltown had proved the solid defense of the star-shaped fortress.

The cavalry, which lacked siege weapons, had no choice but to fill it with earth walls and deep trenches.

If the Heds get angry and insist on chewing the bones, that's easy to do - there is a bridge behind the fortress, and it is really impossible to defend it. If they retreat to the other side and blow up the bridge, the barbarians can only stand on the river bank and stare.

This time the Hurds followed suit and formed their troops outside the effective range of the artillery.

Smoke and dust were everywhere in the distance, and the number of enemies seemed endless.

On the watch tower, Mason and Winters were chatting away.

"Eh? Have you noticed?" Mason looked surprised: "Every time I go there, there seem to be more Hurd Cavalry outside?"

Winters also felt the same: "In the morning, I saw that the Herds only had 10,000 cavalry. With the current situation, I would say at least 20,000."

"Are there reinforcements?"

"Who knows?" Winters spread his hands: "The lieutenant colonel said that the three major tribes can pull out 100,000 string control men by gritting their teeth. The Terdun tribe dared to bring the Golden Man to sacrifice to the sky to suppress the formation. All the elders of the tribe I’m not surprised that the little ones came out in droves.”

Mason shook his head and smiled bitterly, and suddenly asked Winters hesitantly: "Can I give you some advice?"

Winters was a little confused and replied sternly: "Senior, just say whatever you want."

"In my opinion, instead of letting your musketeers shoot faster, why don't you find a way to make your musketeers shoot more accurately."

Mason took out a piece of parchment full of writing and asked Winters with a hint of anticipation: "Does your infantry department have a statistics class?"

"All we have is arithmetic and geometry." Winters shook his head desperately.

"Then let me explain to you the concept of percentages."

[Author's note: Careful book lovers may notice that percentages have not been used once in this book so far. Instead, descriptions such as 'two percent', 'a quarter', and 'half' are used.

This was because Winters Montagne had never studied fractions or percentages, and only artillery officers took statistics classes.

Statistics has a long history, dating back to Aristotle’s ‘Records of the City’. The root word of statistics comes from the city-state. But fractions and percentages have a very recent history, only appearing in the 18th century.

This book is tentatively written by General Lionheart Euler, a good friend of Marshal Ned and the founder of the artillery discipline, who proposed concepts such as 'fraction' and 'percentage'.

Through Mason's teaching, Winters learned some superficial knowledge of statistics. So from here on, the concepts of percentages and statistics are officially introduced XD. Knowledge is power, get new weapons! ]

After explaining what a percentage was, Mason held the parchment and read: "Outside the fort, I counted 347 Hurd corpses. But only 215 of them were beside the trench, and the rest were outside the range of the musket."

Winters nodded. More than two hundred people were killed before they retreated. The Teltown troops were actually very tenacious.

Mason licked his fingers and turned to the next page: "On the wall, you arranged 341 musketeers, firing six and a half rounds. Theoretically, 2210 shots should be fired. But because someone misfired, I will count the data on your list. , your soldiers actually fired a total of 1147 shots."

Mason talked eloquently, Winters listened intently, and the image of the blind senior seemed to grow taller.

Mason cleared his throat and concluded: "In other words, even if all 215 people on the trench side were killed by your musketeers, the hit rate would only be 18.7%, and the remaining 81.3% would be empty shots."

Winters' breath was stagnant: "There may be a situation where two shots kill a person..."

Mason raised his hand to stop his junior and continued: "And don't forget, among the 215 people are my artillery and the results of the musketeers you deployed under the city. The actual killing efficiency is much lower than 18.7%. According to me It is estimated to be less than 8%.

In other words, if you fire 1,147 shots, less than 100 people will be killed. You have 52% of the musketeers who average only 1.51 shots in six rounds, and less than 10% of the musketeers who can complete six rounds. "

Mason rolled up the parchment and hit his apprentice on the head, shouting loudly: "Prodigal! Aren't you wasting ammunition? If you continue to fight like this, the consumption rate of gunpowder will be at least 3.5 times as fast as before. We will only have three days of gunpowder in stock." Just light it up.”

Winters was speechless.

He took the parchment, read it carefully, raised his head and said, "The misfire rate is 48%? It's too high. It needs to be lowered. The kill rate is actually 8%? It's not bad!"

"Okay!" Mason said displeasedly: "The killing efficiency of cannons is higher than yours."

"Senior, the problem is not how accurate the shot is, but how to hit as many lead pieces as possible in the shortest possible time. The more you hit, the better. The faster you hit, the more suppressive you will be. The stronger they get. Just now, the Herds were even pressed by the horse-rejecting stakes and did not dare to raise their heads. Although the efficiency is reduced, the actual results are still improved."

"The salary of musketeers is half higher than that of spearmen, because they are technical arms." Mason lamented: "If you continue to practice like this, in the future your musketeers will only fire guns randomly in one direction, and one can fire accurately. The gunman can’t be found!”

Winters blinked and a smile appeared on his face: "The accuracy of the matchlock gun is inherently limited."

"Then just hit randomly? Hit randomly? If you're not hitting accurately, you should hit more carefully! Hit slowly!"

"Senior, don't be angry." Winters put his arm around Mason's shoulders and bit his ear and said, "I have a new idea about the musketeer who can shoot accurately."

"What do you think?" Mason squinted at his junior and asked with a straight face.

Winters pulled out his double-barrel rifled spring gun and gave the flat end to the senior: "This."

"This?" Mason's eyelids twitched and he took the rifle: "What do you mean?"

"If you can't shoot accurately, let him fire the volley. If you can shoot accurately, I want him to shoot more accurately!" Winters said with bright eyes and high spirits: "I want both volley and accurate shooting."

Now it was Mason's turn to be speechless.

Suddenly a cry came from under the guard tower: "Montagne!"

Winters looked out and saw that under the wooden tower was the lieutenant colonel's messenger: "What's going on?"

"The barbarians want to negotiate." The messenger replied with a heavy breath: "Master Jessica asked you and Master Bard to go."

"Let's talk if you want." Winters put the gun back into his gun bag: "I'm going to see what the barbarian is up to."

Winters rode Strong Luck, and Bud rode his bone-chilling horse, and the two rode out.

The two horses, one gold and one silver, walked in unison and harmoniously, not like they were walking on a blood-soaked battlefield, but rather like a dressage parade.

The Platons on the fortress couldn't help but burst into cheers.

The red-faced Hud man was not present this time, and only the interpreter came to negotiate.

As soon as he saw the person, Winters didn't want to talk.

Before the other party could speak, his face darkened and he said coldly: "Forget it if you don't want to talk."

After that, Winters turned his horse and left, and Bard turned his horse around without saying a word.

"Talk! Talk! Of course I want to talk!" The interpreter panicked and begged: "Sir, what do you mean by this?"

"Talk?!" Winters roared like thunder: "Who are you! Are you willing to cooperate with us to talk? Go back! Someone with qualifications comes over. Just that monkey-ass face! Let him do it!"

The interpreter said awkwardly: "That monkey...that is my lord, the one who warms the fire. The blood descendant of the Jin people, the grandson of the swift-footed stag, the son of the bowless one, the great chief, war leader and branch of the Teldu tribe." Meatman.”

Winters laughed out loud: "That monkey-ass face, the one who is warming the fire? Why doesn't he come?"

"You have cannons, but my lord is not willing to put himself in danger." The interpreter answered cautiously.

The location of the negotiation was only three to four hundred meters away from the fortress, within the effective range of the artillery.

"Bold!" Winters said angrily: "Look down on our credibility?! Then there is nothing to talk about."

After that, he raised his riding whip again.

"Please don't leave, sir, please listen to me." The interpreter said with a bitter smile: "There is really no trust between the Platuan people and the Hed people. They said they wanted to negotiate but then violently killed people. This has happened many times."

The history of grudges and enmities between Plato and the Hed tribes touched on Winters’ knowledge blind spot.

Winters was unmoved and furious: "Look, you are also a Plato, and you are actually working for the Heds!"

The old interpreter with gray temples burst into tears: "Sir, there is nothing I can do. Thirty-one years ago, I was kidnapped as a slave by the previous chief, the Bowless Man. Since then, I have been living in the wilderness and cannot return to my home."

"You have a home and can't go back? Then I'll give you a chance." Bud suddenly said: "Just follow me, and I will take you back to the fortress. Once you enter the fort, the barbarians will not be able to hurt you. After the battle, you can go home on your own. ,how?"

The old interpreter was stunned for a long time, and said tremblingly and timidly: "Sir, no one of my family members in Plato is left. I have married a wife and had children in Teldu. I..."

"Stop talking nonsense!" Bard's tone was cold and stern, his eyes flashing coldly: "Are you leaving?"

The old interpreter's face lost all color and he shook his head slightly.

"What did the barbarian chief ask you to talk about?" The gentle Bard rarely showed murderous intent: "Speak directly!"

"My lord is the one who warms the fire." The old interpreter licked his lips, and sweat broke out on his forehead in the cold weather: "I would like to engage in a Mak'gora - a life-and-death duel with the general of your army according to ancient rituals. . If my lord wins, you hand over the golden man who sacrifices to the sky. If your lord wins, the Terdun tribe will withdraw its troops and no longer participate in this battle."

Even though they had all kinds of expectations, Winters and Bard were still stunned by the enemy's proposal. They looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Your Excellency, you can believe in Makgora." The old interpreter continued: "Both your army and our army will definitely respect it. Historically, there have been thirty-six Makgora games between Hurd and Plato. No matter who loses or wins, , all fulfilled their promises as promised."

"The military is a major matter for the country!" Bard frowned and shouted in a deep voice: "How can a duel be used to decide a major military matter? How crazy is your monkey-ass-faced chief?"

"But..." the old interpreter swallowed: "Que Ye Khan was killed by Ned Smith of your army during the Makgora ceremony..."

Hearing the old marshal's name in this damn place, Winters suddenly became energetic.

"Is there anything else like this?" He asked with great interest: "How come I haven't seen it in the history of war? Tell me about it? What are the restrictions on this Makgora? Riding on horseback? Fighting on foot?"

The old interpreter wiped the sweat from his head and said: "Both parties can agree on their own. Both infantry and cavalry battles are acceptable. Generally, there is no restriction on weapons..."

"Is that okay with a gun?" Winters' eyes widened.

Without waiting for the old interpreter to answer, Bud quickly interrupted his cheerful friend.

Bud reached out to hold Winters' reins and said to the interpreter: "You wait here, I will go back and tell our army commander."

"Don't go! I haven't asked you clearly yet!" Winters was dragged away, getting farther and farther away from the old interpreter, but he still shouted without giving up: "Hey! Can the interpreter use a gun? Use..."

Back at the bridgehead, the two were surrounded by other officers.

"What did the Hed want to say?" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica asked.

"The Hurds are crazy!" Winters was elated: "They really have no way to defeat this fortress! They are so desperate that they want to try any trick."

Bud frowned and said: "If the interpreter did not lie, the leader of the army on the opposite side is the great chief of the Teldu tribe - the fire roaster. This is not good news. And they seem to be very confident. The interpreter is not even willing to defect. us."

"All the golden men have moved here! How could it be possible that Chief Man didn't go into battle in person?" Jessica sneered: "Is there anything else?"

"Hahaha!" Winters laughed with tears in his eyes: "They want to challenge you to a duel!"

[Note: I have been holding back for a long time to finally use the weapon of statistics. Although the subject of statistics is still in its infancy and its analytical skills are very weak, it will be of great use in Winters' hands]

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