Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Opportunity for Promotion (3)
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The morning after the operation meeting.
Division Commander Karl de Angri of the Franco Republic's 12th Division, deployed to the Rhineland Front, rose at his usual time and sat at his desk to handle the division's business.
Normally, he would have grumbled about having to write daily reports despite there being no major changes as the division commander.
But today, he was grateful for the responsibility—and the authority—that came with compiling a report on the current state of the Rhineland Front.
That was because the decoy operation had succeeded, allowing them to annihilate over 1,500 enemy troops while minimizing their own losses.
It was a ploy no seasoned commander would ever fall for, but thankfully, the inexperienced student platoon leaders had swallowed every bait they threw, hook, line, and sinker.
He even felt like buying the enemy general who had dragged those student platoon leaders to the front a drink.
And if things continued this way, he would be recognized for his victory on the Rhineland Front, securing a larger fief, greater wealth, and a guaranteed promotion.
"When I was first assigned here, I cursed Deus for sticking me on this hellish front, but it turns out it was all divine grace after all. Hahaha!"
Just thinking about it brought a smile to his face, painting a rosy picture of the bright future ahead.
But he didn't have long to bask in such sentiments.
Because some fool of an officer had burst into the division commander's tent, gasping for breath and ignoring the chain of command entirely.
Karl nearly chewed the man out on the spot, but he didn't want to ruin his good mood.
Instead, he asked in a voice tinged with mild irritation.
"What brings you here?"
"I have an urgent report and came straight to you, sir."
"Spit it out quickly. And follow the chain of command next time. Do it again, and I'll have you up on military charges."
"Understood, sir. Report: As of this moment, the Reich Empire's 8th Division is preparing to retreat. The situation is so dire they're not even packing up their tents properly—just grabbing minimal rations, weapons, and armor before fleeing."
Upon hearing this, the division commander's joy was so overwhelming that his anger at the scout officer's breach of protocol vanished from his mind.
Instead, the idiot who had ignored procedure now seemed like an endearing subordinate, driven by pure loyalty to deliver the good news as swiftly as possible.
"Urgent reports like this can bypass the chain of command. Especially when it's good news. Still, unless it's this critical next time, stick to protocol."
"Yes, sir."
Following tradition, the division commander pressed five gold coins into the officer's hand and said,
"If you're right, we'll be celebrating soon. Grab a girl then and wash away the fatigue. You look like it's your first real battle—embracing a camp follower brought by the sutlers is an experience worth having on the battlefield."
The officer saluted his superior at the perfect angle, expressed his thanks, and swiftly exited the tent.
Next, the division commander summoned the scouting unit commander from outside to confirm the details.
And that night, Division Commander Karl de Angri of the Franco Republic's 12th Division savored the finest wine and cheese sold by the sutlers, confident of the victory to come.
He even distributed alcohol and meat to every soldier in the division—small amounts to avoid drunkenness—using divisional funds.
By custom, when a division commander handed out booze and meat during wartime, it meant victory was all but assured. As a result, every officer and enlisted man in the division began to relax, drunk on the joy of impending triumph.
With no idea what consequences that would bring.
It had only been a day—or two at most—but to me, Peter Jaeger, it felt like an eternity.
Because this operation could be the greatest opportunity of my life...
A failure would deal a blow from which I could never recover as a commander, but success would grant me wealth, honor, and power beyond anything I'd known before.
So waves of anxiety—"What if we fail?"—kept crashing over me.
But even the glacially slow Defense Ministry clock ticks forward, and just as the day of discharge eventually arrives,
the scheduled operation start time came, and a dust-covered scout burst into the company headquarters.
All eyes turned to him.
Because the operation's go/no-go hinged on this soldier's report.
Hiding my pounding heart—like a teenager in love for the first time due to tension—I asked calmly,
"What's the current status of the Franco Republic forces?"
It was a broad question, but the sergeant scout seemed to grasp everything from it alone and answered crisply.
"Division Commander Karl of the Franco Republic's 12th Division saw our retreat and is convinced of victory, letting his guard down. Over the past two days, yesterday and today, he's distributed alcohol and meat to both officers and enlisted men. The sutlers are preparing a battlefield feast with whores, meat, and jesters."
Hearing that, a surge of elation filled my chest.
Part of me wanted to leap up and cheer right then and there, but this operation had to remain top secret until I led the company into the assault on the enemy lines.
Of course, I'd briefed the platoon leaders beside me three hours earlier to prepare.
But the other companies' junior officers below captain rank couldn't know yet, so I feigned nonchalance and replied,
"Good work. You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir."
With that, the sergeant quickly slipped out of our tent.
The rest of us erupted in a massive cheer, then I clapped to refocus everyone and said,
"Operation 'Thunder' begins now. Platoon leaders, return to your tents immediately and rouse your men. Have them bring carts one and two, loaded with crossbow bolts, crossbows, and torches covered with jars. Wizard squad leader, as agreed, gather all battalion wizards and assemble in the square."
With those orders given, the senior platoon leader from 1st Platoon spoke for the group.
"Understood, sir. And what will you do, Lieutenant?"
"Acting company commander will report the operation start directly to the division commander now. Should take about ten minutes—have everything ready by then."
"As ordered."
Once everyone had left, I went to the division commander to report the operation's commencement, then hurried back to the company square.
By the time I arrived, every soldier in the company was waiting as ordered: long spears in left hands, unlit torches covered with jars in right hands, crossbows slung on their backs.
Seeing them drove home the reality that over a hundred lives hung on my next command.
But there was no time for sentiment now, so I decided on one short phrase before we marched out.
"No need for more—just one thing. Trust your acting company commander and fight with resolve to stake your lives. Win and return, and I'll grab the division commander by the pant leg and get you all promoted. We're in the army—don't you want to get out even a day sooner and return to your families? One more request: survive and meet again."
Another company commander might have invoked the Empire's honor, family, or riches here.
But what resonates more with soldiers is discharge.
Because that single word encompasses peaceful days with loved ones, the leisure of survivors—all the truly vital things.
Plus, if this surprise attack succeeded, I'd claim the top spot for turning a near-defeat into victory on this front.
That merit alone would let me petition for the entire company's one-rank promotions without diminishing my own achievements.
"Hooray for the company commander!"
"Promotions and home a day sooner!"
"No more shitty oatmeal or half-rotten cheese—real home-cooked hot meals!"
With that, I boosted the men's morale and led them as stealthily as possible toward the enemy, avoiding detection.
We spotted a few scouts along the way and nearly got spotted, but I shot them down with arrows before they could blow their whistles.
Thus, we reached the pre-designated point unscathed.
There, I ordered,
"Wizards, hurl fireballs as far as possible to torch the enemy camp. Soldiers, split into two groups here. Group one: 2nd and 3rd Platoons with the wizards. Group two: 1st and 4th Platoons. Group one fires one crossbow bolt each, leaves the rest here, and charges with me. Group two follows platoon leader orders and uses all remaining crossbows. Then we all merge into one and plunge into the enemy lines without a thought. Hesitate in fear, and we all die. Follow my back!"
The soldiers nodded in agreement, and soon wizards and soldiers unleashed a volley of spells and arrows toward the enemy camp.
Then I led Group one in a mad charge—like crazed, drug-fueled lunatics seething with frenzy.
"Ura! Uraaaaa!!"
Like those mad bear-countrymen who harvest soldiers like wheat.