Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 8 Departure

When the rallying whistle pierced the night sky, Maureen's mind went blank for a moment.

It's like someone who's been working through the night, their eyelids drooping, finally getting their head on the pillow, only to be told that the company has decided to have everyone work overtime, and they even have to eat breakfast on the go.

That feeling of powerlessness and resignation.
Morin adapted completely in no time.
He rubbed his throbbing temples and looked up at Klaus, who had poked his head in: "Is the whole company going to set off?"

“I asked the messenger, and it seems the entire battalion is moving out,” Klaus replied.

"understood."

Since she couldn't sleep, Maureen stopped struggling.

He sat up from the cot, which was only provided to the platoon leader, and the military skills belonging to this body began to work automatically in his mind.

"Klaus, go and urge the whole platoon to dismantle the tents immediately, and send all supplies that are inconvenient to march to the company's supply depot."

One of the most important duties of the two heavy-duty wagons pulled by the company headquarters was to carry the field tents and other supplies of the entire company of more than 250 people (including more than ten people in the company headquarters) during marches.

"Yes, sir!" Klaus accepted the order and left, his figure quickly disappearing outside the tent.

Morin's young orderly quickly retrieved the equipment left behind by the former platoon leader—a gleaming rifle, a somewhat heavy pistol with a matching leather holster, and a leather pointed helmet in the style of the Saxon Empire.

Because he had been captured, all his belongings except for this military uniform had been looted by the Britannians, and he even had to wait until the rear to reissue his officer's certificate.

So at this point, we can only accept the equipment left behind by the former platoon leader.

Morin immediately recognized the long, heavy rifle as the classic and accurate Gew.98.

The pistols issued to officers were the P08, which was highly sought after by weapons collectors in the previous life.

This also means that the history and technological development of this world are quite different from the world before the time travel, but there are still many things that are 'universal'.

This was naturally good news for Morin, as it significantly reduced the learning costs for him to adapt to the world and acquire relevant knowledge.

However, Morin was not in the mood to handle the weapons at the moment. He silently hung the pistol and ammunition box on his belt, put on the pointed helmet, and adjusted the tightness of the chin strap.

When the cold leather and metal touch the skin, a strange sense of familiarity washes over you.

He picked up the Gew.98 rifle, pulled the bolt, and the crisp "click" echoed in the small tent, dispelling the last bit of sleepiness.

After getting ready, Morin stepped out of the tent.

The orderly immediately called over two soldiers, who quickly packed up the platoon leader's single tent and carried it away along with his cot.

The sight before him invigorated Morin.

The once scattered campsite has been completely transformed; all the tents of each class have disappeared, leaving only a few traces on the ground.

Apart from a small group of soldiers who were carrying the bundled tents and miscellaneous items to the rear of the company, the rest of the soldiers had already assembled under the leadership of their respective squad leaders, carrying backpacks and rifles.

On the nearby open ground, the other two platoons of the 3rd Company also stood in neat rows under the cover of night. The commands of the officers and sergeants rose and fell, yet there was order amidst the chaos.

By the moonlight, Morin cast his gaze into the distance, and the entire 1st Battalion's encampment came alive.

Countless flickering oil lamps formed a continuous line, like some giant beast awakened from its slumber, slowly stretching its limbs and emitting a low roar.

This somber yet efficient atmosphere made Morin realize that he was one step closer to the cruel stage called war.

……

Meanwhile, the headquarters of the 16th Infantry Brigade was located in the rear.

The central command tent was brightly lit, and unsurprisingly, the atmosphere was tense and oppressive, typical of the pre-war period.

Lieutenant General Mackensen stood before an open battle map, his upright posture resembling that of a javelin, despite his injuries.

He was surrounded by a group of brigade staff officers, all their eyes focused on the city of Seville on the map.

After being rescued, the veteran's first reaction was to immediately retaliate, taking a sharp bite before the Brittany could react.

However, under the strong persuasion of his staff, he restrained himself and agreed to send a telegram to the General Staff Headquarters in China first.

Besides providing a detailed account of the attack on the military observer mission, the most important thing was to request authorization to launch a retaliatory attack.

Although there was a line laid along the Saxony-Aragon railway, it still took at least three or four hours for the telegram to travel back and forth.

With the authorization yet to arrive, Mackensen and his staff could only anxiously await Potsdam's final decision while simultaneously working out various attack plans.

"Seville previously had no fortifications, but it appears that the 'Kingdom Army' has begun constructing temporary positions after gaining a foothold."

"According to the intelligence we have obtained so far, the 'Kingdom Army' has already deployed the 24th Infantry Division here, and the Britannian Northumberland Fusiliers Regiment has at least two battalions here, and we believe there will be no fewer cavalry units cooperating with the operation."

A major staff officer pointed to the map and analyzed:
"In terms of conventional forces, the enemy already has a numerical advantage and is on the defensive. They will most likely be wary of our attack. If we launch a strong offensive, the casualties may be very high."

Upon hearing the staff officer's words, Mackensen shook his head and then pointed to the marks on both sides of the 16th Brigade on the operational map.

"We are not without allies. The National Army and the International Brigades each have a brigade on our flanks, plus our 16th Infantry Brigade. Theoretically, we are not at a disadvantage in terms of manpower."

The old general looked at the insignia representing their enemy—the 'Kingdom Army'—on the map and sneered.

"Moreover, the 'Kingdom Army' is not strong enough in terms of equipment or fighting spirit. If they were to face our troops head-on, or even the 'National Army' and the 'International Brigade,' they would have no chance of winning!"

"But we must pay special attention to the Brittany."

Another staff officer suddenly spoke up:
"Based on current intelligence, in addition to the two battalions of the Northumberland Flintlock Regiment, a task force composed of the Highland Mage Order and the Knights of Garde may have also arrived in Seville."

Upon hearing this, especially after everyone heard the names 'Highland Mage Order' and 'Knights of Garde', they all fell silent.

Upon thinking of the archmages in the 'Highland Mage Order', even Mackensen calmed down considerably.

Mackensen had always been confident in the fighting capabilities of the Saxon Imperial Army. A large number of highly qualified junior officers and non-commissioned officers, coupled with the soldiers' long-term rigorous training, were the foundation upon which the Saxon Imperial Army maintained its combat effectiveness and participated in the struggle for supremacy on this continent surrounded by formidable enemies.

Moreover, after being the first to embark on the industrialization process, the Saxon Empire made rapid progress in military technology.

Not only did mass-producible heavy artillery begin to be widely deployed, but even the 'armored knights' originally exclusive to the Britannians and Gauls were modified by the Imperial Academy of Sciences to significantly reduce the 'magic technology' requirements.
Even so, Lieutenant General Mackensen knew that the Britannian mage and knight orders were not to be underestimated.

The Empire has suffered heavy losses on numerous occasions in its battles in overseas colonies due to the presence of enemy archmages.
Those are all truly capable of changing the course of a battle with just a few people.

Not to mention the Garter Knights, who assembled elite 'armored knights'—these real iron cans are capable of taking on a hundred or even a thousand men on the battlefield.
Mackensen's thoughts drifted uncontrollably to the scorching land of North Africa many years ago.

That was a colonial conflict.

Initially, the war went more smoothly than expected.

His North African legions and Saxon colonial troops, along with loyal local native auxiliary forces, advanced triumphantly, uprooting one Britannian outpost and stronghold after another.

News of victory flooded the country, and everyone thought that the rich land was about to change hands.

Until the Brittany's reinforcements arrived.

A small contingent of the Knights of Garde, and only three archmages from the Highland Mage Order.

Mackensen will never forget the scene of that day.

At that time, he led his troops to a head-on encounter with the main force of the Brittany expeditionary force, and everyone realized that this would be a battle that would determine the course of the North African war.

The battle did not begin with the roar of artillery fire.

The archmage of the Emancipation School, hailed as a 'legend' by the Britannians, stood behind the formation, his staff raised high to the sky.

The sky suddenly changed color, the clouds were torn apart, and countless burning meteorites, trailing long flames, roared as they crashed into the Saxon North African Legion's positions.

Immediately afterward, a fiery storm erupted from the spot where the meteorite fell, engulfing everything in its path.

A colossal wall of flames swept in, devouring the soldiers' flesh and blood and twisting the steel barrels of guns.

A fully-equipped infantry regiment with a distinguished combat record vanished in just a few minutes, leaving no trace of its intact bodies.

Immediately afterwards, the armored knights of the Garter Knights launched a charge, breaking the formations of the other two infantry regiments with just one attack.

That scene became a haunting nightmare for Mackensen.

If it weren't for the Teutonic Knights fighting desperately forward and temporarily holding off the enemy's armored knights with their superior numbers, they would have been able to overcome the enemy's purely magically-based armored knights.
If it weren't for Duke Ernst August of Brunswick personally leading the 'Brunswick Death Hussars' in three desperate charges against the highland mages' positions, regardless of casualties,
The cavalrymen's flesh and blood forced the three archmages to interrupt their spellcasting and retreat in defense.

In that battle, the entire North African Legion may have been completely wiped out.

"General?"

A staff officer's soft call pulled Mackensen back from his painful memories.

He took a deep breath, and the smell of kerosene and tobacco in the tent made him feel a sense of reality.

After a moment of silence, Mackensen spoke again, asking, "Where are the Teutonic Knights' armored knights?"

"They are still on the military train, but they should be able to reach the station behind us and complete their assembly before dawn at the earliest."

Mackensen: "Well, once they arrive, they will go directly to Seville to engage in battle. The various units of the 16th Brigade and the brigade's cavalry regiment will continue to advance to the attack assembly area as planned, and the brigade's artillery regiment can also enter the artillery positions."

As soon as he spoke, the staff officers in the tent exchanged glances, and the last staff officer closest to him looked at him cautiously.

"But General, the order from the General Staff hasn't come down yet."

"That's just a matter of time."

Mackensen waved his hand and continued:

"Neither His Majesty, nor the General Staff, nor the Imperial Council can tolerate the Britannians extending their reach to our doorstep, so this battle is inevitable!"

He glanced at the somewhat nervous staff officers around him. Most of these relatively young staff officers had no experience fighting in overseas colonies.

For them, the upcoming battle will be their first.

Thinking of this, Lieutenant General Mackensen couldn't help but sigh.

As those veterans who had truly experienced the war rose to higher positions or retired to the second line, 'rejuvenation' has become an unstoppable trend in the Saxon Empire's army.

Admittedly, the new generation of young staff officers, who entered reserve officer schools during their secondary school years and grew up exposed to various combat theories, have surpassed their predecessors in many ways.

But the most important 'combat experience' cannot be taught to them by military academies or daily training.
Hopefully, this localized war will train a new batch of experienced officers for the empire.
The thought flashed through Mackensen's mind, and then he glanced at the commander of the 16th Brigade beside him.

"I'll leave the specific battle deployment to you, since that's your responsibility. I'll return to the Expeditionary Force Command after I receive the order from the General Staff in China."

"Yes, General!"

After saying this, Mackensen sat down in a corner of the tent and quietly awaited the final orders from home.

As the commander of the expeditionary force throughout the Kingdom of Aragon, he should currently be at the expeditionary command post closer to Saxony, overseeing the overall situation.

In his mind, the map of the entire Kingdom of Aragon slowly unfolded, showing the troop deployments of the Saxon Expeditionary Force, the National Army, and the International Brigades.

He closed his eyes, contemplating troop deployments in other directions. After all, with the battle of Seville underway, fighting would soon erupt across the entire front.
The other officers inside the tent began making various plans for the battle that might break out next.

The nimble messengers went in and out of the camp, and military orders were delivered to various units as they ran.

The orders on paper became the soldiers' marching steps and the tracks left by towed artillery.
About three hours later, an officer lifted the curtain and strode up to Mackensen, who was smoking a pipe.

"General! A reply from the General Staff!"

(End of this chapter)