Chapter 164
Chapter 164
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 164
Chapter Title: Deception, and the Thirty-Six Stratagems' Hasty Retreat (2)
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The entire 7th Division, myself included, was in a state of utter exhaustion where dropping dead on the spot wouldn't have been surprising.
In that situation, the soldiers had ridden horses they weren't used to at a pretty fast clip for several hours. The mood should have been downright somber.
Yet the troops were laughing heartily and chattering away like it was some kind of festival.
"Look at those damn Switchelland bastards! They look just like dogs chasing after chickens!"
"They thought they had us cornered, but we slipped away. Those Switchelland idiots must be pissed now! When we get home, let's grab a drink to celebrate."
"They dragged 100,000 men here and got their asses kicked by less than a full division. What a bunch of morons for the history books."
Deep down, I wanted to join in the cheering and share their joy.
But I'd pushed myself too hard up to now, and I didn't have the strength left for a loud whoop.
I'd burned through so much stamina that I couldn't even handle riding on my own anymore.
So I stayed silent, clinging tightly to Anya's waist as she urged the horse forward from in front of me.
"Thanks for the help. I think we'll make it back alive because of you. When I get to the Empire safe and sound, I'll buy you that drink."
"If it weren't for you, Major General, we'd all be dead. Helping out like this is the least we could do. And before that, you're the benefactor who avenged our White Wolf Tribe and gave us a place to live."
"Still, thanks are thanks. I'll repay the favor, so bring all your cavalry troops. I'll treat you right, even if it bankrupts me."
Truth be told, I was saying this to dilute a bit of the embarrassment I felt.
Even though we were still in enemy territory, it wasn't all that dangerous anymore, and I'd let my guard down quite a bit.
Sober as I was, riding pressed up against Anya's body—even if it was through her leather armor.
She was a tough warrior, but I could feel that uniquely feminine softness and warmth.
Her scent wasn't the usual rank foot odor from male soldiers' balled-up socks. It was a pleasant, fleshy smell that wasn't half bad.
And there was this inexplicable comfort and coziness to it all, making me—a married man—wonder if this was okay, leaving me feeling a little off.
That said, in my current state, grabbing the reins and bouncing along at a fast trot would probably end in disaster.
To survive and get back, this was the only way.
At least the fires we'd set in the army camps were blazing fiercely, tying up the Switchelland forces for quite a while.
Days had passed since we started our escape, and there was still no sign of Switchelland troops on our tail.
But it was too early to relax. We'd barely crossed half of Ticino Canton.
"Switchelland mountain bandit scum are throwing arrows and stones from the side!"
"Those dog-tier cowards, stabbing us in the flanks like that!"
"Spot the enemy positions! Weapons at the ready—prepare to respond! Intercept on my mark!"
At that, the soldiers dismounted, drew their weapons, and formed up.
The NCOs didn't panic at the ambush, immediately responding to the commanders' and officers' orders, calming the men. Even exhausted, the troops reacted swiftly.
They were all a source of pride, but sadly, halting here was the wrong call.
We were covering about 50km a day at light speed thanks to the horses.
But our enemies? Even their rank-and-file had NCO-level combat prowess. Their ten-year veterans were knight-level maniacs.
Those battle-hardened pros were no doubt marching relentlessly after us, written off stragglers, under the enraged Switchelland Duke's orders—eyes bloodshot with fury.
Wasting time tangling with these small fry?
"Anya, don't order the men to engage. Tell them to push straight ahead no matter what. Even if arrows and stones take out some of us, we don't respond."
"The enemy knows we're worn out and can't fight properly. They're hiding in the woods, just shooting arrows—they can't number more than a few hundred at most."
"Their goal isn't to hurt us. They're just buying time for the Switchelland Duke's army to catch the 7th Division. From now on, no dismounting outside sleep and minimum rest breaks—unless they're blocking us head-on. Like how your White Wolf Tribe marched."
Just as I said, Anya explained that when leading the White Wolf Tribe, they never dismounted except for sleep and bare-minimum rests.
The soldiers took only the essentials—water and food—on horseback. Their only real breaks were once a day when the horses grazed and at night.
Even accounting for biological differences between man and beast, how the hell did horses endure that?
As I pondered that, Anya and the division's commanders relayed my orders across the ranks.
"Division commander's orders! Don't get bogged down by these small-time bandits! March on even if we take arrows and stones!"
"Keep going till they drop from exhaustion!"
"Mount up! We've gotta hurry. Homeward bound!"
The soldiers ignored the Switchelland hillbillies chucking arrows and stones from the woods like petty thugs.
They remounted, spurred their horses, and gradually picked up speed.
It wasn't blazing fast—maybe 10km/h—but compared to a division marching at 5km/h on foot, it was double the pace.
Steady riding like this would shake off the foot-slogging bandits easy enough.
Survival demanded tough choices, but it still pissed me off.
To vent a little, I squeezed out what little energy I had left and bellowed.
"You Switchelland mountain bandit fuckheads! You look worse than dogs chasing chickens on rooftops! Even your precious Duke's wearing the same dumbass face. Is this the mighty Switchelland tradition you brag about? Your ancestors would wail in hell seeing you clowns!"
Leaning against Anya's back, I let loose on the Switchelland scum.
"We lost the battle, sure, but we got a good taste of your retarded traditions! Switchelland mercs can only ambush from bushes—face-to-face, you're all braindead losers!"
"I almost feel sorry for your parents—tears welling up! How'd they sleep raising gutless eunuch cowards like you?"
"Not too late—go find a skirt, slap on some makeup! You skirt-wearing, panic-prone morons!"
That got us through the ambush without further trouble, despite barely clinging to life in our escape.
In the process, smart decisions kept us from getting ankle-bit and wiped out.
An hour of hard riding at a fast trot, and we shook the enemy unit completely.
But already beat to hell, facing that ambush—even from just a hundred foes—the damage to our division was worse than expected.
"One mountain after another. I figured it'd be tough, but not this tough. Fuck it, never doing this shit again."
**
A week later.
"Fuck yeah, Reich Empire flags in sight! Major General, our boys' banners up ahead!"
Every eye, mine included, turned toward where the soldier pointed.
A fairly large fortress came into view.
Its walls fluttered with banners of other Imperial legions and divisions. Unlike our near-dead crew, the guys up top looked fresh as hell.
In other words, we'd lost, sure—but this was the front line where Empire and Switchelland met. No territory lost, and the moment they realized my division made it back safe...
Officers and enlisted alike wept at the sight.
"Hooray! Fuck, we made it back alive!"
"The Division Commander's right! We lived!"
"Fuck, is this a dream? Real life? Mom!"
All the fatigue and tension I'd built up from the overexertion hit me at once, unraveling...
"Major Anya, thanks."
I slumped against her back and passed out like a sack of potatoes.
And with that, the Switchelland conquest war ended.
Switchelland Forces: Total Dead 18,000. Seriously Wounded 8,000
[Successfully Repelled Imperial Invasion, Devastation of Ticino Canton]
Reich Empire Forces: Total Dead 10,000. Seriously Wounded 145 (most died or went missing during retreat)
[Double Agent Puts Expeditionary Force on Brink of Annihilation. Enemy Strategy Foiled by Defensive Battle Led by Major General Peter Jaeger. 2,500 KIA out of 8,000 in 7th Division]