Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Opportunity for Promotion (1)
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The situation facing the Reich Empire Army was dire, but the one unfolding right in front of our company wasn't much better.
The enemy we were about to clash with head-on was slightly outnumbered by us, but our troops' stamina had already been severely depleted.
Even I, the platoon leader responsible for leading my men, found myself wishing I could just shove everything aside, head back to the barracks for a good sleep, and come out refreshed.
But I was grit my teeth and holding on, thinking only of the rewards I'd reap if the plan I'd devised succeeded in this battle.
Regular soldiers, who couldn't expect much reward no matter how hard they fought, must have been even more exhausted, lacking any real motivation to charge into battle.
The company commander, fully aware of our plight, pulled me and my platoon to the rear before snatching a pike from one of the soldiers and bellowing at the top of his lungs.
"I know you're all worn out and suffering for it, men. The company commander is well aware. You've all fought valiantly and stuck with me this far—that alone makes every one of you a credit to the unit!"
In tough spots like this, the usual pep talk is to tell them they can push further.
But telling exhausted, bone-tired men they can keep going anyway just feels like cornering them endlessly, making them want to give up.
"That's why I'm stepping up to lead you properly. Follow my back, and like always, we'll make it home alive. We'll turn this war into victory and return to our families back home."
As the company commander mentioned families and took point, the soldiers seemed to rediscover their fire, realizing they couldn't return home without winning here.
A spark of fighting spirit returned to their eyes.
At the same time, our battalion and the enemy battalion began slowly closing in on each other.
The company commander strode forward majestically, as if certain enemy arrows and spells would veer away from him, leading the troops with unwavering confidence.
Inspired by the sight, the soldiers forgot their fatigue, leveled their pikes at the foe, and advanced steadily.
When the company commander's pike, protruding slightly ahead of the front line, clashed with a Franco Republic soldier's long pike.
He swept the enemy's pike aside to the left and thrust at the man's throat with blinding speed.
Discarding his pike, he drew a short sword—about fifty centimeters of blade, like the ones I'd used—and plunged into the enemy ranks, gripping it with both hands.
The deputy company commander, witnessing this, charged similarly into the fray.
Normally, we'd curse at high-ranking officers like them for their recklessness.
But if you're willing to risk your life, the most effective way to fight dense pike formations is with a dagger in that narrow space inside the pike shafts, free to swing without restraint.
Thanks to that, I—the next highest in the company after those two—silently took overall command.
"First and second rows, drop your pikes near the company commander and follow him with one-handed weapons! Don't give them time to regroup—it's safer inside their pike lines! Crossbowmen attached to Jaeger Platoon, cover the company commander!"
The best orders to support them in this situation.
I commanded the company standard-bearer to deploy First and Second Platoon soldiers in support.
I signaled the battalion commander with flags: end the fight quickly by extending our lines to envelop and attack from both flanks.
With those support orders issued, our company had already pushed deep into the enemy ranks before I knew it.
Forcing me, acting company commander, to grab a pike and join the melee myself.
Then an enemy's shocked voice rang clearly in my ears.
"These crazy bastards. They should've been exhausted saving that near-dead enemy battalion—why are they fighting so damn well?"
"Their company commander's up front slaughtering everyone!"
"We should rip out their hearts and roast them. Do they have to go this far?"
Normally, I'd dismiss enemy chatter as bullshit.
But I agreed with the part about going this far.
Because a company commander stepping to the vanguard meant he knew the battle was turning against us and was throwing everything into it anyway.
Yet like reaching the river or the sea doesn't matter as long as you arrive, a commander who leads and wins has succeeded ninety percent.
Glancing around, our company had breached about a quarter of the enemy formation, so pike-fighting held little meaning now.
"Company, drop pikes and switch to sidearms! All units, prepare to charge!"
At my command, the soldiers drew short one-handed weapons: swords, maces, war hammers.
"Charge!"
We switched and surged forward, cutting down enemy soldiers slowed by their long pikes.
Some of the demoralized foes gave up resistance, collapsing to piss themselves or fleeing outright.
In other times, I'd chase them down and kill each one.
But not now—that'd be foolish.
"Don't pursue fleeing soldiers or officers! Anyone who chases will be severely punished regardless of rank! Killing what's in front of you is enough!"
I drew my sword alongside the men, slashing down the enemies before me as fast as possible.
Normally, I'd check ranks or units on any promising kills.
No time now.
Instead, amid the chaos, I kept the company commander and deputy in sight, fighting on.
As we nearly routed the enemy, I spotted the two, armored and fallen, wounded.
Their armor spared them lethal wounds, but blood loss left their faces deathly pale.
Mid-battle, but their deaths would crush not just company but battalion morale.
I requested the battalion commander to evacuate them rearward ASAP.
Soon after, retreat horns blared from both Franco Republic and Reich Empire forces.
In the heat, I hadn't noticed, but our numbers—including my Jaeger Platoon—had thinned drastically.
Despair hit me, but I hid it from the men.
Instead, I focused on the best actions from my position.
That was the posture and habit of commanders called great generals or geniuses, so I sought a way out for us that way.
My battalion and the adjacent one we'd timely supported took minimal casualties.
But other units in our division suffered as I'd predicted: severe losses.
Of our roughly eight thousand division soldiers, one thousand dead, five hundred critically wounded and under care.
First Regiment XO critically wounded; Second and Twelfth Battalion commanders KIA; thirty-odd lieutenants and above dead or wounded, forcing command changes.
Sadly including our company commander and deputy.
Rumors said over half the casualties came from the mere thousand-strong Black Lion Mercenary Corps.
We could feel their prowess.
Amid this, for crushing three Franco Republic companies and saving a near-wiped battalion, I officially promoted to lieutenant.
Now, standing in for our wounded company commander, attending a division-level briefing hosted by the division commander himself.
Petty lieutenant that I was, no seat at his long table—just standing at attention in the tent corner.
"Damn it all, someone—anyone—give me ideas! First Regiment XO Cornwall Major! What do you think?"
"Regiment XO Major Cornwall here. I don't know, sir."
"Have you got rocks in your head? Why's it always 'I don't know' with you?"
The division commander vented battlefield frustration as urging subordinates for solutions.
He bellowed the same at other battalion commanders, but all stared at the floor, silent.
No wonder: twenty percent of the division gone in one fight, near annihilation.
Crafting a salvation plan was tough, and with the division commander furious.
Speak up with an idea, risk getting ripped apart—who would?
As no answers came, he sighed deeply, face softening, and asked again.
"Really, no ideas from anyone? Fine, then. I'll hear any strategy except 'shut up and charge' nonsense—no backlash. Any colonels, battalion commanders, staff with thoughts?"
This time calmer, but post-debacle, field-grade officers lacked boldness; none stepped up confidently.
Sighing resignedly, he turned to us company commanders.
The look was obvious.
Inexperienced company-grade plans couldn't top veteran field-grades, obviously.
But he'd hear us out, praise to shift mood and reassure them.
Wearing a genial smile, he pointed his baton at me.
"Oh, Lieutenant Peter Jaeger. Or should I say lieutenant now? What's your take? What do we need to beat those Franco bastards?"
A middling plan from a company-grade would earn praise here.
But I hadn't come just for lieutenant bars.
I boldly chose words to hook his interest.
"I believe the best strategy is a surprise attack they won't anticipate."