Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 7 Another World Military Academy Students Go to Their Company (belike)
While Albert II was discussing matters with two 'powerful ministers' in Sanssouci Palace, Morin, after greeting Schmidt and the sentries, entered the encampment of the 1st Battalion of the 33rd Infantry Regiment.

This temporary camp for combat troops was much noisier and more chaotic than the regimental headquarters.

The air was filled with the mixed smells of damp earth, sweat, and cheap tobacco. Oil lamps flickered in the night wind, casting the shadows of the soldiers long and short.

This place was filled with the kind of ruggedness and simplicity that Morin was familiar with, reminiscent of World War I.

Although it was late at night, the unit was clearly still on standby and had not gone to bed.

Soldiers wearing classic pointed helmets gathered in twos and threes inside and outside the tents according to their respective units; some were wiping their rifles, while others were talking in hushed tones.

But most people just sat silently, staring blankly at the flickering firelight.

Clearly, not everyone can understand, like the messenger Schmidt, why they came to fight in a foreign land.

Most of them were just following orders as soldiers.

Schmidt led Morin through the makeshift camp, his usual liveliness seemingly dampened by the somber atmosphere, and he became quieter.

Soon, the two stopped in front of a slightly larger tent.

"Lieutenant, this is the battalion headquarters. Major Thomas is inside."

Schmidt pointed to the tent, then lifted the heavy tent flap and went inside first.

Morin took a deep breath, straightened his somewhat wrinkled and stained military uniform, and followed him inside.

There was only one oil lamp lit inside the tent, and the light was not bright; in fact, it was rather dim.

A burly, middle-aged officer with a standard Saxon mustache stood before a field table covered with maps, his brow furrowed.

Hearing the curtain being lifted, he looked up, his gaze first falling on Schmidt, then shifting to Morin behind him.

When he saw Morin's obviously bruised face and the bandages peeking out from his collar, the major's eyebrows involuntarily twitched.

Schmidt stepped forward, handed over a file folder, and quickly recounted Maureen's ordeal.

Morin was taken aback; he hadn't expected that Lieutenant General Mackensen hadn't instructed anyone else to keep this a secret.

"That's the situation, Major! General Mackensen ordered me to bring Lieutenant Morin directly to you for his arrival."

After listening, the major, known as Thomas, looked at Morin again, his expression somewhat complicated.

"You're incredibly lucky to be alive."

He opened the file bag, pulled out the order letter inside, glanced at it, and then nodded.

"I understand. Go back and report."

"Yes, Major!"

Schmidt gave a crisp salute, then turned and quickly left the tent.

Major Thomas casually tossed the order aside, pointed to the ammunition box next to him, and softened his tone considerably.

"Sit down, Lieutenant. Your experience is quite legendary."

Maureen didn't know how to respond to Major Thomas's words for a moment, so she could only smile sheepishly and sit down.

The major on the other side opened the document brought by the messenger, glanced at it quickly, and then sighed.

"Morin, given your past experiences and current condition, I should let you rest first. But now the situation has changed, and the troops are very likely to begin operations."

"I'm alright, sir!"

Morin knew that as a newcomer, he naturally had to find a way to make a good impression on his superiors, and in the straightforward military, it was quite simple to do so.

"Give me your orders!"

"Very good! The 3rd Company has been waiting for you, the platoon leader, to arrive for a long time. I will send someone to take you there right away."

Thomas was clearly very satisfied with Morin's attitude. He called out to the outside of the tent, and an orderly immediately came in.

"Take Lieutenant Morin to the 3rd Company and hand him over to Captain Hauser."

"Yes, sir."

After leaving Major Thomas's tent, Morin, led by his orderly, quickly found the 3rd Company's location.

The atmosphere here is more lively than at the battalion headquarters. A captain who looks shrewd and capable is assigning tasks to his sergeants.

Upon seeing Morin brought by the orderly, the captain's eyes lit up, and he immediately strode forward to greet him.

"You must be Lieutenant Morin? Thank goodness you finally made it!"

The captain shook Morin's hand warmly, with such force that Morin winced.

“I am Carl Hauser, the company commander of the 3rd Company.”

"Sir!"

Morin immediately saluted his direct superior, following the muscle memory of this body.

Don't be so polite!

Captain Hauser patted him on the shoulder, his face beaming with undisguised joy.

"Did you know that our former platoon leader suddenly fell ill and died on the train to Aragon? My 3rd platoon has been without a platoon leader for almost a month, and the platoon sergeant has been acting as commander. He's been working himself to the bone!"

Molin then realized that he had been dragged in to fill a hole.

Captain Hauser was clearly a decisive man; after exchanging only a few pleasantries with Morin, he summoned the company commander and other officers.

"Everyone, let me introduce you. This is Lieutenant Morin, our new platoon leader for the 3rd Platoon! Please get to know him!"

Upon hearing Captain Hauser's words, everyone gathered around and greeted Morin in a friendly manner.

Morin also took this opportunity to quickly familiarize himself with the organizational structure of the Saxon Empire's basic units.

Besides the direct commanding officers like the company commander and platoon leaders, an infantry company actually has quite a few people in its headquarters.

One sergeant major who was a key figure;

One quartermaster sergeant assists the company sergeant major in managing supplies, clothing, barracks, and other matters;

Two clerks are responsible for handling various documents and reports for the company, since the company commander is usually quite busy and simply doesn't have time to deal with complicated official documents and reports.
Four medics, equipped with basic medical kits, are responsible for battlefield first aid and evacuating the wounded to the camp.

A six-man communications squad is responsible for establishing and maintaining communications with the battalion headquarters. Under normal circumstances, they are used directly as messengers. If the company headquarters needs to establish telephone contact with the battalion headquarters, they are needed to set up the lines.

Finally, there was an eight-man supply depot responsible for managing the company's field kitchen carts, food reserves, drinking water, extra ammunition boxes, spare weapon parts, and tools during marches and encampments.
Of course, there's also the company's luggage~
Morin even noticed that two of the eight men were professional shoemakers and harness makers.

Because in addition to the horses of officers and messengers, Saxon infantry companies were also equipped with two extra supply wagons to carry the company's luggage during marches.

The ancient sacred mule and horse empire
As he got to know everyone, much of the knowledge this body had acquired at Richterfield Central Military Academy began to reappear, and his "golden finger" kept popping up numerous information update notifications. Morin realized that, given his obsessive-compulsive tendencies, he was likely to soon be engaged in a major battle to clear all the red dots.

After the others had left, the other two platoon leaders—a taciturn lieutenant and a seemingly cheerful second lieutenant—also came over to greet Morin.

The relatively friendly atmosphere within the company helped Mo Lin relax his tense nerves.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, a middle-aged sergeant with a serious expression and wearing the rank of senior non-commissioned officer approached Morin.

"Lieutenant, I am Klaus, platoon sergeant of the 3rd platoon."

"Hello, Sergeant Klaus."

Morin nodded and shook hands with the other person.

"Could you please assemble the troops? I'd like to meet with everyone."

"Yes, sir."

Soon, the soldiers of the 3rd Platoon assembled in the open space in front of the camp.

The infantry squads of the current Saxon Empire are 9-man squads.

Two infantry squads form a platoon, and eight squads make up four platoons, totaling 72 riflemen who are the main combat personnel of the platoon.

In addition to the platoon leader, platoon sergeant, 4 NCOs (non-commissioned officers), and 2 messengers, they formed an 80-man "super-sized" infantry platoon.

Besides the platoon leader, the most important members of this group are the platoon sergeant and four non-commissioned officers, whose rank is usually corporal.

The platoon sergeant is the platoon leader's deputy. Like the sergeant major at the company level, he is the soul of the platoon and the bridge between the platoon leader and the soldiers.

The platoon's daily affairs, both big and small, are often arranged by the platoon sergeants.

Sergeant Klaus, who was responsible for assisting Morin, was a veteran sergeant with over 16 years of service, making him an absolute 'family heirloom' for an infantry platoon.

The other four non-commissioned officers were responsible for the platoon's daily training and leading the four squads below them in combat.

The assembled soldiers lined up in neat rows, and under the cool moonlight, their young or weathered faces turned toward their new commander.

The strict hierarchical system within the Saxon army maintained absolute silence among them.

Although he was also a military academy student before his time travel and hadn't yet graduated and been assigned to his unit, based on the experience of some of his seniors, he knew he absolutely couldn't show any nervousness or stage fright at this moment, otherwise, it would definitely cause big problems later.
Morin could feel everyone's gaze subtly drifting towards the injury on his face, and many people's shoulders twitched slightly, as if they were about to burst out with internal injuries.

He cleared his throat and said, "I know what you're looking at."

He pointed to his face.

"Laugh if you want to, don't hold it in."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a brief silence in the group, followed by an uncontrollable burst of laughter.

Morin chuckled along, and only after the laughter subsided did he continue:

"From today onwards, I am your platoon leader. My requirements are simple: obey orders, trust your comrades, and never be afraid of battle! Anyone in the platoon, including myself, who violates these rules will be dealt with strictly according to military law! Do you all understand?!"

"Yes, sir!"

After discussing discipline and combat issues further, Morin dismissed the troops. Watching the soldiers leave, he knew very well that the laughter he had just heard had only superficially shortened the distance between them.

The respect these soldiers showed him stemmed more from his military rank.

There is still a long way to go before they truly submit to us.

Remembering some "tips and tricks" that senior students had shared with him before he traveled back to school, Morin, after disbanding the team, summoned the platoon sergeant and four corporals to get a brief understanding of the team's current situation.
It's also a chance to get to know each other better and shorten the distance between the two sides.

The group started with a brief self-introduction and talked about their military service experiences.

Morin discovered that apart from Sergeant Klaus, who was a seasoned veteran, the other four corporals were also quite formidable, each having served for a considerable period.

However, upon closer examination, this is not surprising, since they were promoted from among the soldiers to become non-commissioned officers, rather than through a formal appointment process.

This situation is very similar to that of the German Second Army in the world before Morin's transmigration, before the outbreak of World War I—the extremely high proportion of junior non-commissioned officers created an army unit with excellent grassroots combat quality.

However, these non-commissioned officers were also largely lost in the early stages of the war, ultimately leading to a significant decrease in the proportion of non-commissioned officers in grassroots units.

As the two sides became more familiar with each other, Morin could clearly sense that Klaus and his group had relaxed a bit.

One of the corporals also asked Morin where he was from out of curiosity.

Upon hearing this question, Morin searched his memory and answered without hesitation, "I am from Dresden."

"Oh?! So you're from the capital!"

"No wonder you have such a distinguished air about you; your family background must be quite prominent."

Seeing the eager gazes of these sergeants, Morin paused for a moment before realizing that the capital of this country was not 'Berlin'.

But when Morin thought about how the country had become the 'Saxon Empire', it all suddenly made sense.

In this timeline, it's more likely that the Hohenzollern family won't rule this land, but rather the Saxeweting family will.
It was only natural that Dresden, the ancestral home of the Wettin family, would become the capital of the Saxon Empire.

After asking some questions, such as whether there were any non-combat injuries or illnesses, and the soldiers' emotional state, and confirming that the platoon's basic combat capabilities were not a problem, Sergeant Klaus led Morin to a small tent.

This is the platoon leader's individual tent, which he and his orderly just set up together.

"Lieutenant, please rest first. I'll go get you some hot water."

"Thank you, Sergeant Klaus."

After Klaus left, Morin plopped down on the cot, overwhelmed by extreme exhaustion, feeling as if his bones were about to fall apart.

Not long after, his duty officer—a soldier who also looked very young—came in carrying a cup of hot water and a few pieces of dry bread.

"Sir, I just checked and the kitchen truck at the company headquarters is off. Please have something to eat first. This is some hot water that Sergeant Klaus got for you."

"Thank you, you should rest too, I can do it myself~"

Morin nodded, then struggled to eat the somewhat hard black bread with the hot water, his mind a jumble of thoughts about everything that had happened that day.

A bizarre time travel, an inexplicable capture, and an inexplicable rescue.
Now, even more inexplicably, they have achieved the accomplishment of 'military academy students being assigned to lower-level units'.

After finishing his food in a few bites, Morin felt his eyelids starting to droop. Just as he was about to lie down and take a nap, he was suddenly greeted by a series of urgent whistles.

The tent flap was also lifted, and Sergeant Klaus's head followed and peeked into the tent.

"Sir! The company headquarters has given an order: all personnel assemble, depart in two hours!"

"what?"

(End of this chapter)