Chapter 177
Chapter 177
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 177
Chapter Title: New Tactics (2)
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The sergeant, who had been promoted from private all the way to sergeant for his exploits on Lichten Hill, had been brimming with confidence just a few days ago.
And he had every reason to feel that way.
He had fought alongside the revered Major General Jaeger right up to the end in what was known as the bloodiest battle in Imperial history—the Battle of Lichten Hill—and he had made it back alive.
Thanks to that, when he returned home on extended leave, he was treated like a national hero in his rural hometown.
That was what made the sergeant vow to follow Major General Jaeger for the rest of his life.
He was only a non-commissioned officer now, but he harbored ambitions of rising to officer rank and becoming a noble one day.
But at this moment, he was bitterly regretting that very decision.
"...Save me, fuck. I'm gonna die."
Even as he muttered those words, he kept up with the drill instructor's commands, powering through Exercise No. 8—the one infamous for being the most grueling—and he was already nearing the twenty reps the instructor had ordered.
'Please, let No. 8 end at twenty today. If it jumps to forty here, I'm really done for.'
But whether the instructor knew his thoughts or not, he gazed down at the trainees with an impassive expression, barking out commands without mercy.
"One! Two! Three!"
Either way, the sergeant swung his legs wide left and right in time with the instructor's cadence, performing the motion flawlessly to avoid any nitpicking.
All that was left now was for none of the trainees here—including himself—to call out that damned final count...
"One, two, three... nineteen, twenty!"
He didn't know who shouted it, but at the worst possible moment, the final count everyone despised rang out. The forty trainees who hadn't called it out plunged into despair upon realizing what had happened.
Part of him wanted desperately to find out who it was, but twisting his head around wouldn't reveal anything, so he'd never know who the culprit was behind this atrocity.
The instructor casually uttered the phrase they'd all grown painfully familiar with over the past few days.
"Trainees, get your heads in the game! I told you to focus on the training. Is it that hard to follow my order not to call the final count? This is nothing compared to what you went through on Lichten Hill, right? Right?!"
At those words, the soldiers lying there on the ground couldn't help thinking that the battle had actually been better than this training.
At the same time, they were dying to know which lunatic had called out the final count during the back-breaking Exercise No. 8.
The instructor spoke coldly, as if even having time to think like this was a luxury.
"I'm disappointed in you lot! We're restarting Exercise No. 8 from the top! Forty reps this time! Repeat after me: how many reps?"
"Forty reps!"
"I like that response! Good. Forty reps, starting now! No final count!"
At that, the sergeant and countless other trainees prayed fervently from the depths of their hearts.
'Fuck, please let it end here. Don't make us do another hellish sixty straight reps of No. 8 like yesterday.'
And with that, they began the grueling ordeal of forty full-body twists under the instructor's control.
Up until they'd finished the twenty, his waist muscles had been pulled tight in agony. Now, they felt like they were tearing apart.
He desperately wanted to quit it all and discharge, but... the sergeant and the other trainees believed in the promise the major general had made.
'Anyone else might lie, but Major General Jaeger wouldn't bullshit us.'
"Arrrgh!"
"Ooooone! Twoooo!"
"Thirrrty-seveeeen!"
Somehow, the trainees here managed to hold out right up until just before the fateful fortieth rep.
And then the moment for the fortieth full-body twist arrived—and right next to the sergeant...
"One, two, three... thirty-nine, forty!!!"
The sound that absolutely should not have been heard! That "forty" echoed out.
The sergeant's mind exploded in rage at that instant, and since the idiot was right beside him, he whipped his head around to memorize the face.
He planned to give the guy a brutal talking-to during personal maintenance time after training.
But the one who had called out the final count was someone completely different from what he'd expected.
"Shh. Keep it quiet."
Unlike the trainees, he wore a battle uniform barely dusted with dirt and the red cap that symbolized the devilish drill instructors.
The one who had slipped in the final count this time wasn't a soldier—it was the drill instructor himself.
Realizing this, the sergeant was so flabbergasted that his gaping mouth refused to close, and a pillar of scorching fury rose within him, ready to erupt.
But this was the Imperial Army, where rank and position ruled everything.
As a mere non-commissioned officer in the 7th Guard Division, no matter how cornered he felt, he couldn't openly complain about the instructor being the culprit.
"I'm greatly disappointed that the trainees still can't focus on training! Prepare for Exercise No. 11!"
Doing No. 11 right after No. 8 was practically torture.
The trainees next to the sergeant whispered complaints behind the instructor's back.
"Fuck, just kill me already. Why No. 11 after No. 8?"
"Which bastard called the final count again and fucked us? He's insane."
"Whoever it is, if I find him, I'll kill him..."
Their grumbling stayed at a whisper, so it didn't reach the instructors' ears.
"Exercise No. 11, ten reps!"
"Ten reps!"
"Too quiet! Thirty reps! Thirty reps, go! No final count."
"Fuck!"
The sergeant let out a sigh but had no choice, so he got into position to start No. 11.
"Trainee No. 38, fall out!"
"Trainee No. 38, falling out! Fuck!"
The instructor who had been sneaking in the final counts called out the sergeant, sending him to the back of the parade ground.
The sergeant knew what happened to guys who'd been called out before—he'd seen them snap to attention after some brutal punishment.
Like jumping into the air then dropping for dozens of perfectly angled push-ups, or holding the bottom position of a push-up for over a minute.
Sometimes standing at attention with hands behind their back, helmet on, head bowed indefinitely...
They were tested to the limits of body and mind with new, ingenious methods he'd never seen before.
This time, only the sergeant was called to the back of the parade ground. The instructor stood a short distance away and spoke quietly.
"Trainee No. 38, at ease."
"At ease!"
"Maintain position and listen to the instructor."
Unlike his expectations, the instructor's words were giving him a break, so he set aside his worries.
"I won't tell anyone I sneaked in that final command. This is a special order from the major general to boost training effectiveness, so you can't breathe a word. Got it?"
The sergeant briefly resented the major general but quickly repented for it.
Daring to harbor irreverent thoughts toward that man was unthinkable for him.
The major general had risked death to save grunts like him on Lichten Hill, so if he'd ordered this, there must be good reason.
"Good."
"Now roll left and right on command for five minutes."
"Roll left!"
Rolling side to side at a moderate pace was basically a rest during ranger training.
As he rolled on the instructor's orders, he started thinking that if he survived this training, something good would come of it—so he'd just tough it out.
And so, the sergeant and the other trainees from the 7th Division finished their PT gymnastics that day, moved on to drill training, and even completed a mock battle that felt like the real thing.
After the day's training, the trainees entered their temporary barracks and collapsed onto their bunks, falling asleep like the dead.
And a fortnight later.
The soldiers, including the sergeant, started the morning not with ranger gymnastics for once, but with mock battle training first.
The training was conducted at an intensity incomparable to before.
Under normal circumstances, people would have been dropping out midway.
"This spear feels light. I could thrust it full force dozens of times in a row."
"The armor isn't that heavy. I could run in this without breaking a sweat."
"Was this training always this doable?"
The soldiers had been battling their limits every day: ranger gymnastics in the morning, drill or mock battles in the afternoon.
As a result, they had gained stamina incomparable to two weeks ago.
Watching them, the officers in command thought back foolishly to when they'd wondered during ranger training if they should complain to the major general that "this is too much."
The fact that their own stamina—and the soldiers'—had improved so much in this short time meant the unit's combat power had surged.
It meant their chances of surviving the battlefield and returning alive had increased.
The other 7th Division officers, who had endured the ranger training alongside them and were watching the mock battle, nodded and chimed in.
"Fuck, I really thought I was gonna die during training."
"The major general knew what he was doing. Who'd have thought it'd work this well."
"As officers, we can't let the troops outdo us in stamina. Gotta focus harder on training starting tomorrow."
Watching the scene from behind, Major General Peter Jaeger thought they'd freak out if they heard what he had in mind.
'If I stoke their sense of honor as officers, I can gradually ramp up the training intensity by about 1.2 times, and they'll go along with it no problem.'