Chapter 32
Chapter 32
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Peter Jaeger, Soaring High (2)
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Even though, from the spectator stands a fair distance away, people were no doubt still constantly shouting words of encouragement or jeers in my direction.
My ears, however, picked up none of that noise.
Instead, what rang in my ears was solely the sound of over a thousand soldiers—enemy and ally combined—marching across the ground, their boots thudding and their armor clanking.
This had to be because I was focusing so intently on the battle.
As the distance between us shrank, Lieutenant Colonel Pommel bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"We won't lose to some green rookie who's never even seen real frontline action! Archers, fire on the enemy infantry!"
The moment I heard that, I issued orders to my troops.
"Crossbowmen, loose your bolts at the spearman of Pommel's battalion straight ahead! Pikemen, keep advancing with pikes at the ready! Don't break formation over a few arrows! Maintain speed!"
Considering that most casualties on any battlefield come from arrows, it was always better to close with the enemy as quickly as possible—even if just by a second.
That's why everything from basic military studies to advanced tactics at the academy hammered home the point: "Once combat starts, just charge in and engage."
The tercio formation I was using dramatically increased marching speed, but if it fell into even slight disorder, we'd suffer massive losses in close quarters.
The reason was simple: if the pikemen and crossbowmen got out of sync even once, the formation that covered each other's weaknesses would collapse.
To anyone who didn't know better, my orders might sound like utter nonsense that defied doctrine—which was probably why Lieutenant Colonel Pommel and his men laughed and shouted as if to prove the point.
"Look at those spear-wielding idiots trudging forward so slowly even under arrow fire. Your brat commander Jaeger has clearly lost his mind! What a shame to turn into a fool at his age!"
"Check out those guys fighting under a captain who gives orders like that."
"We'll turn 'em into pincushions! At least they won't die like in a real war, so let's break an arm or two and teach 'em a lesson!"
With that, the lieutenant colonel's battalion charged toward me with wild, furious speed.
Those who didn't grasp the true power of the tercio formation might think, "Even a young genius commander can't beat the experience and knowledge of a lieutenant colonel. The colonel's victory is sealed."
But to me, who knew its worth, Lieutenant Colonel Pommel and his troops yelling so loudly...
Looked just like foolish moths charging headlong into flames they might not survive.
Right now, we were taking arrows one-sidedly, but our iron armor protected our heads and upper bodies, so the damage wasn't severe.
Unlike Pommel's unit, where archers only shone when the pikemen were spread out, our crossbowmen were positioned at both flanks of the pikemen. Once melee truly began, the synergy of crossbows and pikes would unleash devastating power.
And finally, when Lieutenant Colonel Pommel and the other infantry's pikes came within eight to ten meters, I drew my sword in place of my baton and shouted my orders.
"Good work holding out. Crossbowmen, loose a volley at the enemy infantry! Pikemen, hold formation like an iron wall! Those in the rear with flails, prepare to dive into their ranks the moment I give the signal!"
My soldiers, as if they'd been waiting for this very command, let out a unified cheer.
Immediately, twenty-five crossbows—one on each flank—unleashed a salvo of bolts.
The enemy troops, caught off-guard by the close-range volley of fifty bolts, broke their coordination in a pathetic scramble.
Medieval and early modern infantry lost even basic defensive capability the moment their ranks scattered.
What happened next was as obvious as fire burning or stones in a stream.
Pommel's battalion, chewed up by our crossbowmen, lost their tight formation.
As a result, our pikemen faced no real threat from enemy attacks.
In the end, the foes started getting skewered on our pikes like paper windows poked through by a finger.
This was just a mock battle, so no one died or bled, but the enemy soldiers still showed the same miserable, ugly defeat they'd suffer in real combat.
"Damn it, damn it! Arrows are supposed to come from above, so you regroup after taking hits! But this?!"
"You bastards! Who taught you to stab with pikes right after shooting?!"
While the troops lamented being taken down without a fight...
"First Company, stay calm! The guys out front aren't dead! Lower pikes and charge the enemy! You gonna lose to those rookies?"
"We haven't lost yet! Third Platoon! I'll lead from the front—get ready to counterattack with me!!"
The commanders tried to rally and devise countermeasures, but charging into a wall of densely packed pikes with no gaps was suicide.
Well, not actual death since it was a mock battle—just bludgeoning pain from the blunted mock pike tips smashing arms, legs, and torsos before collapsing.
Meanwhile, our crossbowmen, covered by the pikemen on both sides, kept shooting to disrupt enemy attempts to reform or cluster up, steadily thinning their numbers.
Watching that, I couldn't help thinking: if we went into real combat with matchlocks on top of this, and kept our square formation solid, we could probably take on knights head-on and win.
Even so, with just crossbows—slightly less powerful than matchlocks—and pikes, we were nearly annihilating Lieutenant Colonel Pommel's battalion.
My goal of earning universal recognition for my battalion command skills was all but achieved.
But if I was going to do this, better to follow Countess Venner's advice: instead of playing humble, put on a show of overwhelming strength to instill fear in my enemies!
"Signal Third and Fourth Companies in the rear with the flags—have them swing wide to our right and hit the enemy's back! Same tactic: disrupt with crossbows before the pikemen attack!"
Some might worry that pulling the rear guard would leave us vulnerable, but no force could commit all troops to combat at once in a single battle.
Most units split into frontline fighters and reserves. Until rotation time came, those reserves were essentially surplus manpower.
Detaching them briefly for a flank attack wouldn't affect the fight in front of us.
On the contrary, the enemy would panic at being hit from front and rear, morale plummeting and making the battle even easier.
At my order, the signalers flagged Third and Fourth Companies to wheel around to the rear.
"Perfect. Now it's the flailmen's turn! Everyone forward—time to hammer some real combat sense into their thick skulls! Smash those pots!"
With that, the flailmen surged through the gaps on both sides of our pikemen into the enemy ranks.
Soon after, they swung their flails wildly, mercilessly bashing the heads, chests, and arms of the soldiers playing enemy.
The foe couldn't even respond properly and instead unleashed a torrent of curses at me.
"Is fighting that dirty allowed in a real battle? This is just a mock exercise!"
"Agh! Agh! I surrender!! Stop hitting!!"
"S-spare me! I might actually die in this mock battle! You brutal demons!"
Normally, that might sour my mood, but this was a mock battle tied to my performance evaluation.
Hearing curses from the enemy here just sounded like, "You're doing so well, your command rating is skyrocketing."
And the highest-ranking one among them—Lieutenant Colonel Pommel, who had strutted so arrogantly moments ago—was half out of his mind, swinging his sword wildly in place of his baton.
His mouth spewed nothing but incoherent nonsense, like a drunk rambling.
"Damn it, damn it! First Company, fall back ten paces and attack. Second Company, follow First! Fourth Company, left fifty paces!"
Not even a proper retreat to regroup—he was scattering them every which way like a madman.
How cornered did he have to be to issue orders like that?
But even his frantic thrashing soon ended...
"We're all done for! Damn it, why are Jaeger Battalion guys showing up in the rear too?! Agh~ Stop with the flails! That hurts like hell!"
The reason: they'd been enveloped front and back by my subordinate troops.
Hearing that, Pommel Battalion's soldiers gave up entirely—some tossing pikes down and raising hands in surrender, others trying to flee through gaps on the left and right.
The surrenders we ignored, but the runners ate a full barrage from our crossbowmen.
After about ten minutes of stabbing mock armor holes with pikes and bashing with flails...
A massive trumpet blast signaled the end of the mock battle.
With that, every soldier in Jaeger Battalion—including me—erupted in three cheers of victory.
"Damn, we won!"
"Knew we'd win, but wasn't that too easy? I mean, a frontline veteran unit this weak...?"
"Nah, we're just that damn strong! Long live His Imperial Majesty the Emperor! Long live the Reich Empire! Long live the Battalion Commander!!!"