Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Fake Information (3)
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Spreading all sorts of fake information to sow confusion among the enemy ranks was straight out of the playbook of military strategy.
Even during the Normandy landings, the Nazis were convinced the Allies would hit Calais instead, with rumors swirling that Patton himself would be leading the charge.
In the end, that let the Allies seize Normandy successfully.
If something works, you learn from it—no exceptions. So we ought to spread some fake intel ourselves.
"I'm Major Michael Schumacher, an officer of the Imperial Army. And I'm the man holding your lives in his hands."
The slackers from the Ortz Kingdom's countryside, sold off like chattel, stared at me in bewilderment.
Just yesterday, they were Ortz Kingdom citizens. Their status flipping overnight? No wonder they couldn't wrap their heads around it.
Hell, if someone walked up to me and said, "You're an American starting today," I'd be just as thrown.
Actually, thinking about these guys' situations...
It was probably like some sleazy salt farm owner grinning and saying...
"From now on, you're Chun-ja and Chun-sik."
"To cut to the chase: your village head sold you out. Your parents and families signed off on it."
"......What the hell does that mean?!"
One of the slackers lunged at me, grabbing for my collar.
Can't blame him—staying sane after hearing your family sold you? That's the real miracle.
But that brave soul was quickly subdued by my men.
"You fucking lunatic gone mad? You dare lay hands on our battalion commander? Wanna eat a bullet?"
"Filthy bastard."
They meant to make an example of him, stomping him into a bloody pulp.
A clear demonstration: resist next time, and you're dead for sure.
Applying military law to civilians? Sounds ridiculous...
But in this world, it's just how things are.
"Let me say it again. Your village head and families ditched you to survive the winter. For a pittance."
"Is that really true?"
"Do I look like some idle bum spinning lies to a bunch of worthless slackers? It's stone-cold fact."
In pre-modern societies like Europe or Japan, parents selling their kids was commonplace.
Better one sacrifice than the whole family starving, right?
Some of these guys might even have sisters or older siblings who'd been sold off themselves.
At the very least, they'd heard the neighborhood gossip.
"My God."
I looked at their shocked, despairing faces and made my declaration.
"You have no home to return to, no house waiting. Now you have to choose."
"What choice do you mean, sir?"
"Follow my orders to the death... or..."
Right now, it was time to instill discipline.
To wield people with carrot and stick.
Best to show them the sting of the stick first. Most efficient that way.
A step further, and it becomes "Then die."
"Or die right here."
"That's insane, it doesn't make any..."
"The world doesn't run on words alone. Isn't injustice just the way of the world?"
They exchanged glances and dropped to their knees.
Begging to live, slave or whatever it took.
You can't drive people with the stick alone. Time for the carrot.
"I'm a battalion commander who rewards and punishes fairly. Disobey orders, and you die. Obey, and you live. Not just that—I'll see to it you get a new life in the Empire."
"Is that for real, sir?"
"I swear it on my family name."
Our family was just me, but...
Among nobles, oaths sworn on family honor were ironclad.
Even if drunk, promising a house to a total stranger on your name...
Most nobles would cough up the cash, loans be damned.
Break it, and society buries you alive.
"What do we have to do, sir?"
"From now on, spread false rumors in the Ortz Kingdom."
Fake rumors—deadly effective.
They tank enemy morale with bullshit and bait bad decisions.
We could've spread fakes with our own troops easily...
But locals spreading it? That's the surefire bet.
"What rumors should we spread?"
"Say the Empire's mobilizing hundreds of thousands, or that our taxes are way lower than Ortz's."
If those higher-ups I'd met had greenlit it...
We could've gone wild with more varied disinformation.
We're just a diversion—the real main force already shipped out and landed elsewhere.
Could've stirred up some real fun that way.
'Too bad.'
Nothing to be done about it.
Even with what we had, hammering away would crush enemy morale flat.
"That all we need to do?"
"More than enough. Some Imperial soldiers will tag along to help... and keep you in line. No funny business."
"Understood, sir."
"Finish the mission, and you'll get a fat bonus."
With that, I handed each of them 100,000 marks.
Not a fortune, but...
Once they pocketed it, they'd know I wasn't the lying type.
Handing out rewards this big upfront...
It'd have them salivating over the payout for success.
'Bonuses? I'll make the impossible happen.'
After wrapping up with them, Lina approached.
"Can we really trust those guys?"
"People with nowhere to go but the Empire? You can trust them. Especially ones abandoned by their families."
Old saying: traitors are reliable until they betray someone else.
I love that one.
Tells you exactly how to use a backstabber.
"No home to crawl back to... yeah, revenge on the family that ditched them would make them loyal to us."
"Exactly. Even if just to survive."
"Spreading fake intel... let me handle it, sir."
"Lieutenant Lina's commanding a company—no can do. And too much greed brings trouble."
Subordinates' merits are my merits. My merits? Mine, obviously.
Whiners like that don't end well in the army.
In peacetime forces, maybe...
'But in an army where war's routine?'
Marching with the platoon, they "catch a stray" and drop.
Bullet in the back of the head raises eyebrows...
But platoons and companies stay zipped, and the culprit vanishes.
Extreme case, sure... but not impossible.
"Got any NCOs or privates with solid training, good attitudes, and decent character?"
"Yes, sir. I've got a list and everything."
"Pick two NCOs and five privates from it. Bring 'em."
"Right away, sir."
When soldiers believe their devotion and sacrifice will be rewarded, they fight like hell.
"Brought them, sir."
"Give us a minute."
"Yes, sir."
Once Lina left, I grinned at them.
Not a shady smirk at all.
"Corporal Mainz, you're an only child raised by a widowed mom, right?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Sergeant Miller, I remember you saying your girl's a city hall clerk, and her folks won't let her marry unless you make NCO?"
No way the battalion commander memorizes everyone's files.
So I keep tabs on standouts and hard-luck cases—briefly.
Standouts get rewards; unfortunates get breaks.
Common sense: kid with sick parents who can't work? Don't tie him down long...
Get him out quick as possible.
Soldiers are people too.
"Here's your chance to honor your parents and pamper that wife-to-be."
They gulped hard.
"Take those Ortz locals I brought, scout around, pinpoint enemy positions, spread fake rumors. Keep 'em from acting up—simple mission."
"Finish this, and we make NCO?"
"I'll write your commissioning recs."
One rec letter? Practically guarantees warrant officer.
"I'm giving you this shot because you've excelled, served with more diligence than anyone. Sergeants Hausen, Köln—I'll write your direct recommendations too. Time to retire to a cushy town watch brass gig."
Town watch brass—fancy for police chief.
Good pay, sweet deal.
Best retirement post for Imperial NCOs.
"Give it your all."
"Loyalty, sir!"
With solid rewards promised, they set off through Ortz Kingdom, spreading the rumors.