Chapter 42
Chapter 42
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: If You're Going to Throw a Tantrum, You Should Brag About It Too (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Even during a hit-and-run raid carried out by a small unit striking as swiftly as possible and pulling back, in most cases, you have to linger in place for at least a short while after the attack.
Because you need to confirm whether the raid yielded successful results or failed before deciding how to make your escape.
If the raid succeeds, simply shaking off any enemy pursuit is enough. But if it fails, the enemy might exploit that to launch a counterattack, inflicting heavy damage all the way to our main force.
In such a scenario, the raiding unit might even have to deliberately draw enemy long-range fire to buy time...
However, since our raid targeted just one enemy company—killing only a few but completing the attack unscathed, with every raider mounted and fleeing—there's no need to worry about those potential complications I mentioned earlier.
With that in mind, I spurred my horse through the forest and called out loudly.
"Is everyone keeping up alright?"
The detachment members riding close behind responded first with hearty laughs.
"We're just following the battalion commander's lead!"
"Running through a forest like this? Piece of cake!"
"No one's falling behind over something this minor."
About twenty voices answered my call, from those nearby to those farther back—proof that no one had died or dropped out during the raid.
Moreover, we'd been riding at full gallop for around two hours with no sign of pursuit, meaning our escape had succeeded too.
The enemy commander, stung by our detachment, would expand their alert and reconnaissance perimeters to the maximum. Linger or slack off here, and we could get caught.
So, much as I hated to push them, I had no choice but to ask for a little more effort from everyone.
"Good. Then today, we'll ride as fast as we can to put even more distance between us and the enemy! In return, once we rejoin the main unit, I'll buy out a sutler's wagon just for the detachment so you can rest up. Let's go!"
That day, we covered 100 kilometers on horseback, successfully shaking off all pursuit.
Even after confirming we'd lost them, we had to keep up the rapid march to avoid capture. In the end, we completed our mission and rejoined my battalion, which had been on advance recon, before returning to His Highness the Crown Prince's forces entering Checovia.
The morning after joining His Highness the Crown Prince's army.
Normally, the soldiers would be packing up their tents and preparing to march at this hour.
But with our advance recon battalion and the other scout units all back, a rest order had gone out across the army to devise plans based on the gathered intel.
Those of us who'd handled advance recon and detachment duties had bathed and tended to personal maintenance yesterday, excused from all duties and roll calls until tomorrow.
Not so lucky, I sighed and muttered to myself.
"I'm the battalion commander, and just the detachment op nearly killed me—yet the moment we get back, I'm stuck writing reports all night. Makes me wonder if this is really what climbing the ranks is for..."
Still, the army's the army—you do what you're told. I'd prepared everything in advance, so it'd work out somehow.
My footsteps carried me along until, before I knew it, I'd reached the command tent where His Highness the Crown Prince was.
I addressed the knight standing guard in full armor.
"Advance Recon Battalion Commander Peter Jaeger Major. May I enter?"
"Loyalty. Please come in."
I'd imagined a solemn gathering of high-ranking officers deep in grave discussion. Instead, the scene inside the tent was the polar opposite.
To elaborate: His Highness the Crown Prince, who held the authority to mediate, sat in the highest seat, silently observing.
The star-bedecked generals were actively voicing their opinions and debating.
"Major General Samuel, that's absurd. Even if Checovia's army is weak, wiping them out in a week and pushing past Bisocia into Palensia?"
"Brigadier Chelsea, isn't this His Highness the Crown Prince's first personal command? Last time, that Jaeger fellow ended the war before His Highness could even take the reins..."
"Ha~ Supply lines won't keep up. We only made it here at this pace because we loaded up on hardtack and rations from Bruno territory all at once."
Back at 7th Division HQ on the Rhineland Front, meetings were mostly the division commander talking to himself, with me as the sole exception.
What I was seeing now was the kind of thing my future self as a general might experience—an ideal for the current me.
Subordinates presenting all sorts of intel, mulling countermeasures, proposing and rebutting tactics and strategies, refining them together... all to find the optimal path forward.
As I moved to take a seat in the corner with the other majors, a lieutenant approached and whispered.
"Now that the major's here, the scout reports will start soon. Please prepare."
"Thanks, lieutenant."
The lieutenant should have withdrawn then, but instead, he leaned in and murmured so softly only I could hear.
"Countess Venner asked me to pass this on. All the generals here belong to His Highness's faction, but they're split between those opposing Major Jaeger and those supporting him. Be especially cautious."
I nodded and took my seat, thinking.
The nail that sticks out gets hammered down, huh? Too much success, and I've become a thorn in the side even to the higher-ups?
Damn, that means some bigwig here will nitpick me for forming a detachment outside my recon battalion and running independent ops.
At least I had a little time before the recon and op reports to steel myself and think up rebuttals—not the worst outcome...
But no time was given. Other scout units had already begun presenting their findings one by one.
"Captain Simon Pilsen, here on recon duty. From scouting a day ahead of the main force, it appears the enemy is pulling their troops back to assemble for the decisive battle..."
About an hour and a half later, one of the high-ranking officers called my name directly.
"Advance Recon Battalion Commander Peter Jaeger Major, report the intelligence gathered from scouting the enemy lines and all events during the process."
At that, I walked right up to the table where the VIPs sat, set down my report and map, and began.
"We advanced three days ahead, surveying the expected battleground and detailed terrain around it. En route, we identified villages and roads suitable for foraging supplies. Details are recorded in the report and map."
Pointing to the unfurled map, the high-ranking officers murmured in impressed tones.
"This alone will make marching far easier."
"You've even marked high-probability ambush spots by the enemy and candidate camp sites. Impressive."
"The terrain survey looks nearly flawless."
Honestly, even I was shocked when I first saw that recon map.
Because I'd only given the 1st Company commander a few casual suggestions on how to draw it up.
The sharp fellow had immediately incorporated my advice to produce that map.
"The map was made by Captain Marco, acting as deputy battalion commander. I formed a detachment on-site and led it on separate activities."
Forming a detachment and splitting the unit in enemy territory was already beyond norms for a recon battalion commander.
But when I—the battalion commander—said I'd done it, the generals could only gape in stunned silence, unable to argue.
"Full details are in the report, but I'll start with the key intel. My 21-man detachment scouted the enemy main force coming from the end of Bisocia region here. Their numbers are around 50,000—superior to ours. However, as Checovia's army nears the border zones, their supplies dwindle, and they've overcommitted troops to alerts and guards, sapping their morale and combat effectiveness."
One general asked incredulously.
"Falling enemy morale and weakened combat power? That's great news for us. But hearing you tell it, it almost sounds like your detachment caused it."
I smiled and replied.
"Yes, it's the result my detachment achieved—maximizing the discretion His Highness the Crown Prince granted us while out on recon."