By continuing the volley.

You rain arrows mercilessly down upon the soldiers.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!"

"MY LEG!"

"IN THE TREES!"

The cracks of rifles fill the air, a contingent of skirmishers rush down with their swords in tow to strike in the smokescreen.

"EAST RIDGE! EAST RIDGE, THEY'RE UP THERE!"

The clashing of metal is heard below, and an immense cracking as rifles fire rounds into the tree line. You take cover in time, but look around and see that many are wounded and bleeding from the first volley.

You let loose more arrows, but the volleys keep coming, the treeline begins to shatter and splinter apart into a mess of bark and pulpy thorns. You glance back and see your captain with a thick hole through her left eye, no one else lives.