Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: The Beginning of the Crisis (4)
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Is it because I've never once failed in any operation I've suggested so far?
The battalion commander looked at me with eyes brimming with interest and spoke.
"Alright, but given the situation, keep the main point as brief as possible."
"We need to lead our forces right now to support the neighboring battalion that's fallen for the enemy's bait tactic. Sure, we could let that student platoon leader who defied orders die, but if we do, our division will suffer irreparable damage."
The logic I was laying out might sound like arguing in an FPS team match that we have to save some idiot trolling teammate.
In a game like that, you could casually claim, "Just let the troll die, respawn, and rejoin." But...
In real combat, a wrecked battalion doesn't come back to life. Worse, watching our allies get slaughtered helplessly would tank the soldiers' morale straight to hell.
And on top of that, every ally they kill weakens our overall strength.
To put it dramatically, it's like going from two-on-two against two enemies to a hopeless two-on-one if one troll drops—victory slips far out of reach.
The battalion commander seemed to grasp it, groaning thoughtfully as he pondered.
But I had no time for such leisure, so I pressed on urgently.
"The enemy took some losses themselves to lure us in as bait, so it'll take them a bit to reorganize. If we hit that battalion pounding ours with magic and arrows to break their momentum, then launch a full assault, we've got a real shot at winning."
"Can't argue with that... Hm..."
The way he trailed off felt like he was hinting at what he'd get out of following my plan.
Even in this mess, sizing up personal gains like some promotion-hungry soldier was pathetic, but hey, when the boss asks...
"Saving that other battalion on the brink of annihilation due to some student platoon leader's reckless call could earn me a first-class Silver Cross Medal for proposing this. But you're the one recognizing its necessity and leading it, sir. I'd say you're in line for a second-class Gold Cross Medal and an Army Rescue Medal at least."
At that, our battalion commander broke into a satisfied grin and asked,
"Fine, we'll go with your proposal. Moving the unit to rescue the other battalion falls within my authority anyway."
"Thank you, sir. Also, please send a messenger to the division commander requesting support for that isolated battalion the same way. We can behead the student platoon leaders who disobeyed orders later or punish them properly. But what did those poor platoon grunts do wrong?"
"The troops have rested enough already, so cut the chatter and get ready to move. This time, your company takes point."
Five minutes after my talk with the battalion commander ended.
My company mates and I were at the front of the battalion per his orders, awaiting the assault command.
In the midst of it, the company commander ribbed me in a voice mixing complaint and jest.
"That damn Jaeger kid's gone from bossing his company commander around to yanking the battalion commander's strings too. Back when I was pulling Jaeger shit, I couldn't dream of that. Guess a second-class Silver Cross Medal really puts you in another league."
He sounded annoyed, but it was just grumbling—like he was tossing out jokes before the dangerous charge to ease the tension and fear.
So, taking it in stride as banter, I grinned and replied,
"Forgive me, sir. But didn't I hand you and the other platoon leaders a promotion?"
"If you hadn't, think I'd be smiling and chatting with you now? I'd be kicking your shins and marching you back to barracks for fifty push-ups. But the troops are suffering like hell because of you. What's in it for them?"
To that, I turned to the company and bellowed at max volume,
"Sorry for dragging you into this crazy op! But once it's done, the battalion commander will sing your praises, speeding up your promotions! That means discharge comes sooner too, so hang in there!"
The soldiers who'd watched my exploits over the past month and bled with me on the battlefield erupted in cheers and laughter.
"Platoon Leader Jaeger promises our quick discharge!"
"For the Empire's glory! For the future where we go home and grope our fiancées in peace!"
"That bastard's got a filthy mouth, but damn if it doesn't hit just right!"
With the company's spirits lifted, signals went up across the division to coordinate support for the battalions snared by the bait tactic.
At the same time, massive horns and drums blared from the rear, unleashing a volley of arrows and spells at the enemy.
Caught off-guard by ranged fire from an unexpected angle, the enemy battalion that had been devouring ours faltered.
That let the baited friendly battalion regain some momentum, shifting from one-sided rout to counterattacking.
"Company, charge! Let's save those idiots flailing like morons in the enemy's trap! Jaeger Platoon up front!"
With that order, our company surged toward the enemy at about ten kilometers per hour.
Just before we clashed, the company commander commanded,
"Mages, target only the enemies right in front of Jaeger Platoon! They're leading the charge, so all other platoons, back up the lieutenants!"
As his words ended, fireballs the size of my head streaked in, incinerating the enemy troops right ahead of us.
Thanks to the company commander, my platoon broke into their lines with barely any resistance.
We got an easy start to the assault again.
As the saying goes, a good beginning is half the battle. Nail the first charge, and the rest is obviously yours—the field is won.
"Repay the company commander's fierce support! Jaeger Platoon, prep Tactic Three from training! Break their momentum all at once!"
My platoon's soldiers confirmed the order, gripping the rear of their long spears with both hands and thrusting them forward as far as possible.
Seizing the gap while the enemy battalion was still forming up,
we charged like rampaging tanks, spears out, no regard for front or back.
Normally, that tactic would get you skewered on enemy spears, perfect for a quick death.
Spears are only deadly when wielded properly to check the foe—not when they're fumbling around, barely able to thrust.
Right before our spears pierced, Jaeger Platoon soldiers roared to intimidate and accelerated.
"Slaughter those peasants growing snails in their ears 'cause they're jealous of nobles eating 'em!"
"Show 'em what a real man's made of!"
"Kill 'em all!!"
And our long spears speared the enemy soldiers' torsos—unarmored rabble—dead center.
Nearly ten foes clutched the holes in their bodies instinctively, dying in agony.
Not missing a beat, I dropped my spear, drew my side sword, and slashed those awkwardly positioned where spears couldn't reach.
Part of me wanted to hack through the lot, ride the momentum, find their battalion commander like last time, lop off his head, and snag that first-class Silver Cross Medal...
But glancing aside, I spotted the enemy's reserve battalion approaching our allies' flank to support.
Right on cue, the battalion commander signaled for our battalion to withdraw and engage that reserve unit on the side.
"Let the next battalion handle playing with these greenhorns. Jaeger Platoon, we pull out now and skewer those Franco reinforcements like kebabs. Move out."
Thus, our battalion swiftly fell back per orders to clash with the fresh enemy battalion.
In the midst, I checked on the battalion we'd bailed out, just in case.
Disrupting their momentum had helped big time—they were now edging toward advantage.
Once our battalion fully withdrew and reformed,
the Franco Republic's reserve troops advanced on us.
About three companies, four hundred strong.
Normally, you'd think our superior numbers make it easy.
But after back-to-back battles, with heavy casualties and fatigue, four hundred is no joke.
The silver lining? These reserves weren't the Black Lion Mercenary Corps.
The Black Lions not coming our way meant...
Our battalion had scored partial victories, but the division overall took massive losses.
Still, if we hold this... maybe we can seize a chance to turn the tide?