Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 78 Battle Log
This question left Morin completely bewildered.

Mackensen was, after all, an Army lieutenant general and a familiar senior, and he was holding a document in his hand and looking at it.

Although Mo Lin wasn't from a province known for its civil service exams before his transmigration, he knew he absolutely couldn't bother his superiors at this time.
Seeing Morin's frustrated yet speechless expression, General Mackensen continued:
"I'm not some man-eating beast, why are you so afraid of me?"

This time, Morin didn't hesitate and nodded very decisively.

"Yes, General."

Unexpectedly, his straightforward answer caused General Mackensen's lips to twitch upwards, as if he were smiling.

"Heh, you've certainly grown bolder."

The general's voice carried a faint hint of amusement.

"If it were the old you, you would be too scared to say a word right now. Even if I asked you a question, you would just keep your head down."

Upon hearing this, Morin felt even more contempt for the original owner of this body.

Dude, just how cowardly were you before?!

But it's okay, I'm a coward too.
The room fell silent for a while.

"It seems that the army is indeed a good place to train people."

General Mackensen suddenly remarked, then picked up another document from beside him, glanced at it, and handed it to Morin.

"have a look."

Maureen took the document with some confusion.

Upon opening it, it appeared to be an attachment to a combat document submitted by the staff of the 16th Brigade.

The specific content concerns the combat records of officers and soldiers who performed outstandingly during the defense of Seville, submitted by battalions, companies, and platoons.

The page that General Mackensen handed him was none other than his own combat record, Morin's.

The text details his every battle since becoming a platoon leader, including forward reconnaissance, securing machine gun positions, bayonet fighting on high ground, organizing urban warfare, and leading men in hand-crafting armor-piercing rounds.
Just as Morin was staring blankly at the record, General Mackensen's voice rang out again.

"To be honest, my first reaction when I saw this combat record was..."

The old general paused, leaned forward slightly, and stared into Morin's eyes.

"You bastard, have you been using my name, Mackensen, to your advantage?! You've gotten close to Paul and those staff officers from the 16th Brigade, and then you've conspired to fabricate battle achievements to glorify yourself?!"

These words left Maureen momentarily speechless.

He could no longer imagine how wicked and unreliable the original owner of this body had been.
How could such a deep-rooted stereotype have been left on this old general?

General Mackensen quickly followed up with:

"So I specifically had your battle report cross-referenced with the documents submitted by that kid from the Seeckt family and the combat records obtained from the International Brigades."

His fingers tapped lightly on another document on the table.

"Three reports, each describing the same battle from a different perspective. Although there are slight differences in the details, the core content is surprisingly consistent."

"If it were just Ludwig saying that, I wouldn't completely believe it either. After all, you're not complete strangers, and you might have won that kid over with a few drinks."

"But there is also corroboration from the International Brigades. They are not like the Saxon nobles. You can't get to know them with your 'tricks' at parties."

"So it wasn't until then that I dared to believe that this battle record, which looked as exciting as a novel, was actually all true."

At this point, Mackensen let out a long sigh, his voice filled with relief, surprise, and a hint of regret.

"Friedrich, I regret it."

The old general leaned back in his chair, looking at Morin with a much gentler gaze.

"I regret not kicking you, you brat, into the army sooner."

"If you had joined the army earlier, you wouldn't have wasted so much of your precious youth at the Dresden ball."

This sudden praise left Morin somewhat bewildered, while General Mackensen continued speaking.

“What I didn’t expect was,” Mackensen’s tone turned surprised again, “that you would actually become a spellcaster.” He pointed to another document on the table, a special report by Major General Paul about Morin’s submission of the spell manual and the awakening of his spellcasting abilities.

"You little rascal, how many surprises are you hiding that I don't know about?"

Faced with the old general's series of reflections and questions, Morin was momentarily at a loss for words.

He simply chose the safest approach—remaining silent.

Then he just sat quietly in the chair, without saying a word, letting Mackensen look him over.

As a result, his reaction earned Mackensen's approval.

See, when luck comes, you can't stop it.

"Hmm, he has indeed become much more composed."

Lieutenant General Mackensen nodded in satisfaction:

"Knowing what to say and what not to say is a good habit. In the military, sometimes silence is more powerful than any words."

After this conversation, the atmosphere in the room became less oppressive.

Mackensen also seemed to open up for once.

"Tell me about the tactical details reported in the combat logs, and how you came up with that 'shaped charge armor-piercing projectile'?"

The old general asked with great interest, "I have seen your file at Richterfield Central Military Academy. Your grades in tactics courses at the academy were only slightly above average, and these are not things that are taught at the academy."

"Report to the General."

After carefully considering his words, Morin slowly began to speak:
"The armor-piercing projectiles were purely a result of an accidental discovery. I didn't think much of it at the time, but I didn't expect them to be such a great help in this battle. But the main reason was that there happened to be a chemistry professor in the International Brigades, as well as the help of those skilled workers."

"As for those tactical details, General, I just don't want to die."

“Oh?” Mackensen raised an eyebrow.

Morin: "During the first battle in the village of San Isidro, I personally witnessed our Saxon soldiers, in neat and dense formations, bravely charging towards the enemy's positions."

Morin's voice became somewhat low as those horrific images flashed through his mind.

"Then, like felled wheat, they fell in droves under enemy machine gun fire."

"I didn't want to die like them on the way to the charge. That would be heroic, but it would also be meaningless. So I was thinking, is there any other way to reduce casualties and still complete the mission?"

"And then you came up with those tactics of rapid advances with alternating cover, using squads or teams as units?" Mackensen pressed.

"Yes, General."

Morin nodded, and realizing that Mackensen clearly had his own thoughts on the matter, he continued:

"I believe that with the widespread use of machine guns and rapid-fire artillery today, traditional line infantry tactics are no longer applicable. Soldiers' lives should not be wasted so easily."

After listening to Morin's words, Mackensen fell into deep thought.

A complex light gradually flickered in his sharp eyes.

As a veteran who has been through countless battles, how could he not know that times have changed?
The emergence of new weapons such as machine guns, recoil-propelled rapid-fire cannons, and heavy artillery with larger calibers has completely changed the nature of warfare.

Traditional line infantry tactics are becoming increasingly like collective suicide in the face of these increasingly sophisticated killing tools.

The Saxon Army, and indeed the armies of the world, urgently need a tactical revolution.

The problem is that the entire empire's army was built up under this tactical system.

From soldier training to officer command, a deeply ingrained system has been established.

Change is easier said than done.
This requires a complete revolution in military ideology from top to bottom.

"I don't want to die," Mackensen murmured, repeating the three words over and over, his eyes growing increasingly profound.

Perhaps the opportunity for change lies hidden in this most basic desire for survival.

(End of this chapter)