Chapter 251
Chapter 251
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 251
Chapter Title: Divide Strike (2)
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A week later, a report came in that the scouts had spotted the massive army dispatched by the Grand Duke of Warsaw.
As soon as the scouts' reports arrived, I immediately summoned the officers who had been resting leisurely inside the castle and kicked off the strategy meeting.
"The enemy commander's name is General Tadeusz von Gryniadv, and he has around 150,000 troops under him."
"Where are the Warsaw forces estimated to be right now?"
"According to the scouts' report, they passed Kaliniv Castle two days ago, so they've likely just gone by Nowakov Castle. Factoring in their marching speed, it should take them about seven days to reach us here."
A week wasn't exactly ample time to prepare countermeasures against the enemy army, but it wasn't too short either.
So, we needed to make the most of this breathing room and devise a tactic that could deal a fatal blow to the enemy.
I had several promising ideas in mind—which one should we go with?
Ideally, I'd love to dive right into specifics on how to cook those 150,000 Warsaw idiots, but discussing tactics without the scout intel first would just be armchair theorizing.
"What did the reconnaissance teams find on the battlefield candidates I selected based on the local geography info from Baron Spiegelmann? Which one looks like our best shot?"
"The recon teams say the Glovino Plains, about a day's walk away, is the top candidate."
"Bring me the map."
At my request for the map, the recon captain in front of me clapped his hands to signal.
The moment the clapping echoed, one officer in the corner hung a massive map on the bulletin board.
"This is perfect terrain. Forests ideal for ambushes on both flanks, no hills or even gentle slopes in sight. It's the prime spot for deploying knights and cavalry archers. Good work."
"I was just doing my duty, sir."
"Once we claim victory, I won't forget the recon team's efforts."
The spot they'd found was the ideal battlefield for the Imperial Army.
It was only a day's walk from Gryfino Castle, so after moving there, the troops could rest plenty and prepare for battle.
I'd make sure to supply our forces—who arrive first—with ample rations to restore their stamina.
And if things went south, we could engage when the enemy was at their most exhausted, right after arriving at the field.
If our preparations fell through, we could retreat straight back to the castle for a potential reversal. It was a cleverly positioned spot.
"The numbers are against us, but facing troops worn out from weeks of marching? We can definitely give them a fight."
"Sitting cozy in the castle, camping out until the enemy shows up? It's like something straight out of a textbook—ideal combat."
"It's an honor to fight under your command, General. You're incredible."
The officers praised me with sincere expressions, and hearing it put me in a great mood.
Praise makes even whales dance, and now I got why high-ranking folks lose their heads over subordinates' flattery.
But getting carried away with cheers and applause before the job was done was like popping champagne and cheering prematurely... Time to snap out of it.
First, I needed to check how the most crucial part of my operation—the Divide Strike—had played out.
"How's the enemy's morale?"
The recon captain's eyes lit up, as if he'd been waiting for that question.
"According to our spies inside, whispers among the troops are things like, 'Can we really win this battle?' and 'Wouldn't it be better to just desert?' Especially, the rookie lieutenants are hitting up the camp followers so much that regular soldiers can barely get near the girls."
"We haven't inflicted direct casualties, but splitting their high command seems to have hit hard. The general would try to cover it up, but his unease spreads fast, tanking their morale."
The fact that soldiers were muttering about deserting was a stark sign their morale was in the gutter.
The rookies swarming camp followers might seem odd on the surface, not directly tied to morale, but...
From over a decade in the army, rolling countless rookie lieutenants, one telltale sign of morale hitting rock bottom—hell-level lows—was rookies ramping up their use of the girls with the sutlers.
Most officers who commissioned in this era marry after lieutenant, so lieutenants are often fresh virgins.
Inexperienced guys think it's fine to fool around post-marriage but cling hard to Deus's teachings on premarital purity.
Even in Korean terms, officers who brag about dragging subordinates to after-parties for that stuff don't push it on 'rookie lieutenants.'
Breaking that taboo to visit the sutlers' girls means...
'Fuck, feels like I'm gonna die here—might as well lose my virginity first.'
Peak desperation from losers, weaklings, and losers.
Just making one baron surrender and spreading fake surrender docs to wreck morale, and officers are already this despondent...
The other officers seemed to share my thoughts—everyone but a few, like my wife the female officers, burst out laughing.
"That's right, that's how it should be. Those idiots—if you're a man, you don't die a virgin. But oh..."
"Ahem, enough laughing, Major General Falkenheim. Even if they're the enemy, knights steeling themselves for death might indulge a bit..."
"I can see that smirk, sir."
"The deserter numbers must be insane. Hell, soon just saying 'Your enemy commander is General Jaeger' might make them shake."
We were laughing it up, mocking them, but the Warsaw general's heart must be burning with anxiety right now.
So, after letting it go on for about ten minutes, I gestured to calm the excited mood and asked,
"Desertions won't be light. How many?"
"Hard to pin down exactly, but roughly one per platoon."
"What a clusterfuck. Still a week out, and at this rate, 5% of their force might desert."
For reference, getting caught deserting means instant execution, and even succeeding requires hiding months to pass as 'survived the battlefield by luck' for a clean slate.
If over 5% of those idiots brave that hellish path, the enemy will shatter like an egg when they clash with the Reich Imperial Army.
The trick now is how to smash that eggshell-weak foe effectively.
"Here's the plan. The night before we face them head-on, we'll drop massive surrender leaflets on their camp one last time. Their morale plummets further, and we hit the demoralized lot straight-up."
With our smaller numbers and their morale in the toilet, the key is seizing the advantage in the frontal clash.
Because morale rises with 'victory vibes' in war—so while the Warsaw fools are in despair, we embed the certainty of doom to win with minimal losses.
"Once the front breaks decisively, send reserves from the rear to hit their back and keep their flanks exposed. Don't let them fight with do-or-die resolve—instead, make them desperately seek escape on the left and right wings."
In a no-escape death trap, humans flail wildly, but spot a lifeline and eyes lock on it—that's instinct.
Shift focus to fleeing, and fight-or-flight turns flight. We minimize casualties while slaughtering them.
In short, overwhelming victory becomes a breeze.
"We'll finalize details on-site. From today, we're judging the fools who meddled in others' wars shirking duty. Show the enemy no mercy—not even the bare minimum."