Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 3 What did you call your column?
There was more than one armed man who stormed into the cellar, so there was no question of who to save first.

But sometimes, adopting a 'proper' attitude is very important.

Before Morin could finish speaking, a sharp dagger sliced ​​through the ropes binding his hands.

Without a word, a soldier in a metal can lifted him up from the ground.

On the other side, Lieutenant General Mackensen, who had been badly beaten for his foul mouth, was more simply hoisted onto the shoulder of another man.

Judging from his limp appearance, he was obviously badly injured and probably can't even walk right now.

Supported by someone, Morin staggered a couple of steps, enduring the excruciating pain that felt like his body was falling apart, before regaining his balance.

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the four corpses of Britannian officers on the ground, and a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

"Please wait for me."

He broke free from the soldiers' support, enduring the pain radiating from all parts of his body, gasping for breath, as he squatted down.

He first searched the major who had made the threats and quickly found the officer's ID.

Next, he searched for the identity documents of the other three people one by one.

Finally, he also slung the briefcase that the young officer had dropped onto his shoulder.

Since obtaining key information can increase one's 'information gathering ability', perhaps the files or maps in this package will come in handy.

After doing all this, he returned to the soldier in the tin can and indicated that he was done.

The soldier didn't ask any questions, but simply used his armored arm to support him again. Morin noticed that there seemed to be a faint blue light flowing on the soldier's armor and round shield.

Before Morin could ask anything, the soldier, whose strength was clearly far beyond that of an ordinary person, simply carried him out of the cellar.

The scene here was even more horrific than in the cellar.

This appears to be the lobby of a residential building, but the previous violent explosion has reduced everything here to dust.

The remains of furniture and building debris were mixed together, and the air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and dust.

More than a dozen corpses and severed limbs of soldiers from Saint Britannia lay scattered on the ground, the heavy stench of blood almost choking one's nose and mouth.

Morin suppressed the nausea rising in his throat and followed the rescue team out of the building.

It was night outside, but the streetlights were not on. Only the cold moonlight and the distant flames provided some illumination.

Using the dim light, Morin was able to see the situation outside.

Besides the few tin cans that broke into the cellar, in the shadows of the street outside, another half-platoon of heavily armed soldiers were on guard.

These canned soldiers were clearly different from ordinary soldiers in terms of strength and physical fitness.

Despite wearing heavy armor, he was also carrying a sword and shield and holding some kind of rifle with a larger caliber.

One of them even picked up a machine gun that looked remarkably like the MG08/15.
Meanwhile, the Saxon soldiers around them, dressed in the same gray field uniforms as themselves, were on guard, and their appearance was much more normal.

There were about thirty people in total, and their weapons were mostly bolt-action rifles. They were currently using the buildings on both sides of the street to build a temporary defensive line.

Besides, there was another group of people.
Their clothing was a motley collection, including old military uniforms, workers' clothes, and even shirts and vests. The weapons they carried were also varied.

Morin immediately thought of the young officer's report from before—"another group of unidentified armed men."

It seems like it's them.

Just then, a Saxon soldier crouched low and ran quickly from the end of the street.

He went straight to an officer who looked like a commander and reported in a low voice:

"Captain, the Britannians have reacted! Ignoring the feint attack on their flanks, they're drawing their main force towards us! Our friendly blocking forces are almost caught up!"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a burst of gunfire erupted from the distant streets, the whistling of stray bullets cutting through the night sky clearly audible.

Nearby Saxon soldiers immediately pointed their guns in the direction from which the gunfire was coming, and the atmosphere instantly became extremely tense.

"understood."

The commander, referred to as the captain, appeared remarkably calm.

"Let the blocking force hold out a little longer. Once we've withdrawn from this side, we'll immediately disengage along the original route! If the Britannians are determined to come and support us, we won't bother with them!" Soon, Morin was carried along with the main force, quickly weaving through the alleys and retreating towards the outskirts of the city.

Along the way, he also saw several officers, who were also wearing the same gray uniforms of the field army, being carried on stretchers and following in the middle of the column.

It seems they are also survivors of the military observer group, but it is unknown where they were previously held captive.

The group ran wildly for about two blocks when suddenly, Morin heard a chilling shriek overhead.

"Whoosh-"

"boom!"

Before he could react, a loud bang of a shell hitting the ground echoed from the town he had just fled behind.

After everyone had run a distance again, there was a second roar behind them.

Morin glanced back in the blink of an eye; this time, the flames from the explosion were clearly closer to the block where he had just been.

"Fire drill? It seems there's an observer guiding the shooting. But where is this observer located?"

"boom!"

When the third roar came, Morin had already turned his head to look in the direction he had just left, and this time the landing point looked extremely close to the location of that house.

Will shooting practice continue? Or...?

The question flashed through Morin's mind, but it didn't take long before it was answered.

"Whoosh—whoosh whoosh whoosh—"

A series of piercing shrieks swept overhead, followed moments later by a thunderous roar. This barrage of artillery fire lasted for five rounds.

Even after running quite a distance, Morin could still feel the ground beneath his feet trembling slightly.

He instinctively looked back and saw only towering flames, and a wave of fear washed over him.

The captain raised his hand, glanced at his pocket watch by the firelight, and then said in a calm, low voice:
"These guys who pull the cannons are actually pretty punctual this time."

One sentence sent chills down Morin's spine.

He immediately understood the Saxon soldiers' plan.

If the rescue operation had failed, or if it had been just a minute or two later, I, Lieutenant General Mackensen, and our captured colleagues would have been in serious trouble.
It's even possible that these rescue forces, along with the enemy, would be wiped off the face of the earth by this 'timely' artillery fire.

"That's too ruthless. They just throw away an army lieutenant general like that," Morin thought to himself.

The troops did not stop because of the artillery fire, but continued to march quickly in column, retreating towards the safe zone.

At this moment, the captain strode up to the group of armed men dressed in various styles and found a middle-aged man with a big beard who looked like the leader.

"Thank you so much for your support, friends."

The captain's voice was filled with sincere gratitude.

"But we need some more time, and we hope you can help cover us for a while longer. We must ensure that General Mackensen arrives safely at the rear."

Morin listened intently, his curiosity about this mysterious armed force reaching its peak.

The commander continued, "Please also inform your command that the Saxon military will remember the valuable assistance provided by the International Brigades tonight."

Wait, what did you just say, "column"?
When the words "International Brigades" entered Morin's ears, he felt as if a 150mm cannon was firing at his head.

With a buzzing sound, everything went blank in an instant.

If his pitiful historical knowledge was not wrong, the Saxon Empire he was in looked exactly like a replica of the Second German Empire—a dual monarchical federal state.

That.
How could they possibly be fighting side-by-side in the same trenches with a clearly left-wing force like the 'International Brigades'?!
Was this World War I or World War II?

What kind of absurd direction is this world taking?!

　Both Austria-Hungary and Germany used the concept of "dualism," but their meanings were fundamentally different.
　　The "dualism" in German II refers to the duality of the state power structure, namely the confrontation and checks and balances between the monarchical executive power and the parliamentary legislative power.

　　The "dualism" of Austro-Hungarian rule refers to the duality of the state's composition, meaning that the empire consisted of two independent and equal monarchies.

　　Don't just think of Austria-Hungary when you hear the word 'binary'!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)