Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Battle of Hatin Forest (7)
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Upon witnessing the sight of the Franco Republic's Major General Pompadour personally leading his direct subordinate unit into the fray at this precise moment, Brigadier General Jaeger removed his helmet and pinched his cheek.
The officers and soldiers who saw that scene wore bewildered expressions, wondering why on earth he was acting like that, but the brigadier general paid them no mind.
No—he was too stunned by the enemy commander's foolish blunder to even register their reactions.
"Sure, they outnumber us, so you might think they can turn the tide. But with the momentum completely on our side now, that sort of stunt is utterly pointless. Tsk."
Instead of pulling back to minimize losses, the division commander was personally leading his elite unit straight to the front line in a desperate bid to reverse the battle.
It might yield a fleeting advantage at first, but it wouldn't change the outcome. Worse, they'd miss their window to retreat, ballooning their casualties.
And needless to say, the deeper the division commander plunged into enemy lines, the greater the risk of capture.
The brigadier general clicked his tongue and issued orders to his troops.
"Send any units with breathing room straight to the center for support and tighten the encirclement. If we're lucky, we can take their commander alive."
At his command, several platoons from the Reich Empire's more rested units detached and rushed to reinforce the center.
In the end, Pompadour's shallow ploy to punch through the center and seize victory was thoroughly thwarted.
As the battle unfolded this way, Brigadier General Jaeger felt a familiar itch—the same urge to charge in personally as when he'd crushed Ludwig.
A commander of over four thousand men charging at the vanguard could boost morale and rack up personal glory.
But if luck soured, he'd end up dead at the hands of some enemy grunt, dooming the entire campaign. Such tragedies weren't rare.
So the brigadier general quelled his impulses and resolved to keep directing operations from the center.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Colonel Werner, who had been leading the brigade's knights, halted their assault on the mages and crossbowmen. He wheeled his mount toward the Franco Republic infantry.
While giving his knights time to catch their breath, he scanned the battlefield with meticulous care.
He racked his brain, calculating the optimal way to strike the enemy and clinch victory.
About ten minutes later, a vision flashed before Lieutenant Colonel Werner's eyes—like a line drawn in light.
'Charge there, and I'll play a decisive role in our triumph.'
Conviction surged through him.
He yanked his sword from its scabbard at his waist and bellowed to the knights around him.
"Widen the formation! Shift from our standard eight-rank line to four ranks!! Reform into four ranks and slam into those Franco bastards up ahead!"
Just like the tactic his revered Brigadier General Jaeger had once employed—spreading his forces wide to make them seem even more overwhelming.
By deploying into four ranks, they could maximize width while preserving charging power.
It would double the enemy infantry they could hit in one go, vastly amplifying the blow to their morale.
"We're going to crush those Franco snail spawn! Draw your swords or maces—charge ahead and don't look back! This battlefield is ours to command!"
With that, Lieutenant Colonel Werner spurred his horse from the front center of the line and surged forward.
The Reich Empire's three hundred knights thundered after him, lunging for the enemy's soft underbelly.
The earth-shaking roar grew louder for the Republic soldiers, who began succumbing to terror at the sound.
"Shit, knights coming from behind!"
"Pikes down! Pikes down—block them now!"
"Squad leader's orders! Anyone who can form a pike square, lower your pikes first!"
They thrashed in desperate survival mode, but no company commander or higher could intervene—their focus was locked on the Reich infantry right in front of them.
Deprived of any coherent defense, they were trampled under imperial hooves and battered mercilessly by swords and maces.
Franco infantry turned to gory chunks of fresh meat, spraying blood as they died.
The shock rippled forward from the rear, reaching even those clashing head-on with the Reich infantry.
"Fuck, fuck! The rear got smashed by enemy knights!"
"You moron—eyes front! Can't you see that spear flying?"
"Shut your hole, fuck. We're done for!"
Pompadour, beholding the sight, clutched his head in dazed horror and collapsed to his knees, howling.
"Fuck, you worthless shits! Why—why the hell!! Why do we have to lose to these Reich bastards when we outnumber them by half?!"
In saner times, someone might have consoled their screaming commander. But the Franco officers wordlessly hooked arms under his pits and hauled him up by force.
Desperate to avert catastrophe by dragging their commander to safety...
"Escape's impossible now, sir! Look—the Empire knights have overrun the rear; it's total chaos back there! Company commanders and up have beheaded a few rioters to regain control, but outright deserters are pouring out."
"That's the issue? You fucking trash! Blanket the division commander like a wounded grunt and ship him out now!"
"Yes, sir!"
But by now, Reich Empire troops had obliterated or scattered half the commander's personal unit and closed in right on him.
"Look—tons of gold-plated armor over there! Nab those fancy snail pricks!"
"One catch and you're set for life! Pour it on, boys!"
"Snag the flashiest armored fucker and you'll get bounty plus instant discharge. Charge!"
The Empire soldiers, eyes gleaming at the high-value prey, charged with visions of striking it rich.
"Forward charge! Charge!!"
"Melee chaos anyway—bludgeon 'em senseless with polearms and maces!"
"Rampage a bit more and we're out quick!"
The brutal melee raged between Empire soldiers and the Franco Republic forces, division commander included—but the Empire's superior momentum held firm.
In the botched attempt to evacuate Pompadour, his escort of officers dwindled away.
Grasping the peril, Pompadour opted for suicide over captivity, raising a dagger to his throat.
That's when one Empire soldier—loath to let such a gold-armored prize die on its own—barreled through toward the officer-shielded division commander.
He bowled past several Republic officers and hurled himself full-tilt at the enemy leader.
Pompadour toppled backward with a thud, barely resisting.
The soldier wedged his waist dagger into a slight gap in the fallen man's armor and declared.
"Corporal Erwin, Brown Platoon First Squad—enemy commander captured alive!"
His shout rang out, plunging the battlefield into stunned silence. Moments later, Republic soldiers slumped to the ground, weapons clattering free.
Reich Empire troops rounded up the disarmed Franco Republic soldiers, forcing surrenders one by one.
"Weapons down—face in the dirt! Hesitate and you die."
"Don't wanna die? Surrender now!"
"You dumb fuck, trembling with that spear—I'll end you."
The Franco Republic soldiers and officers complied meekly, offering no resistance.
Battlefield cleanup wrapped up with surprising speed.
The war ended, predictably, in a crushing victory for the Reich Empire Army under Peter Jaeger.
Empire losses that day: 12 cavalry archers, 23 knights, 12 mages, 70 crossbowmen, and over 300 infantry killed or gravely wounded.
Franco Republic: 420 knights and 5,700 infantry slain; 3,000 more infantry and knights taken prisoner.
Brigadier General Jaeger immediately pressed the POWs into service for cleanup.