Chapter 30
Chapter 30
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: Time Passes (1)
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Contrary to the worries, the attack phase proceeded far more smoothly than the defense, and there were several reasons for that.
First, the battalion commander had succeeded in properly disciplining the arrogant staff officers. The staff seemed to regard their special experience of being taken prisoner by the enemy as highly unpleasant, but the momentum had already shifted away from them.
Seeing the evaluation team staring at the staff with sharp eyes while scribbling notes furiously, it appeared not only the momentum but something far more important had deserted them as well.
Next, due to injuries, some members of the cavalry company had dropped out, leaving gaping holes in the enemy's trenches.
The enemy battalion hadn't even considered, let alone prepared, how to efficiently deploy their insufficient manpower in the trenches.
This naturally led to the next factor: the creation of a battlefield perfectly suited for the Stormtroopers to shine.
According to Hutier... no, Rommel's tactics, it involved concentrating fire on weak points before thrusting in the full force—and the current situation matched that theory perfectly.
As a result, this mock battle became a dazzling debut and showcase for the Stormtrooper Battalion, delivering a massive shock to all who witnessed it.
"Do you understand? You smash every available artillery resource in all at once."
"Not prolonged fire to heighten the enemy's fatigue?"
"Yes, to allow the main force to advance immediately."
"A curious method..."
A new form of preparatory barrage: the Hurricane Bombardment.
"Don't you guys have anything like this?"
"Dance the 'Dance of Death'!"
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
"This is cheating!"
New weapons: the MP40, which demonstrated tremendous power in the trenches, and the flamethrowers that annihilated every position they hit.
"Our squad keeps pushing through along the weak points."
"Understood."
The introduction of the squad concept, which they had thought was only used by New World Yankees.
"Enemy forces on the left."
"Ignore them! Keep moving inward along the torn front line! The guys following behind will handle the rest anyway!"
To those who had only just begun to grasp trench warfare, it was a display of the pinnacle of breakthrough and infiltration tactics—strong enough to flip them the bird.
In the end, this mock battle proved the notion that trench warfare was modern warfare itself, while simultaneously making the name of one genius lieutenant who could tear even that apart echo even louder...
"...It's embarrassing, so please stop, Senior."
"Why? It's true, isn't it?"
"At least say it plainly."
"Oh? You're not denying it's true, then?"
"Senior!!"
"Kekekeke."
Manstein was truly savoring these days.
The world was changing day by day, a feast for the eyes, but especially in the field of military affairs, which fascinated him the most.
Being beside that shooting star in military matters was enjoyable in itself, and he could feel his own perspective broadening and himself growing naturally.
Yes... like this, someday. Before long.
'It won't take long to stand by your side.'
He had said war would break out soon.
'I'll catch up by then, no matter what.'
Behind the cheerful, teasing grin that provoked onlookers lurked a serious determination.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The tournament concluded with a solid victory for the 3rd Battalion of the 3rd Guard Infantry Regiment.
After a shaky start, they displayed overwhelmingly superior combat prowess in the remaining mock battles compared to the other battalions.
No one knew what the participants themselves thought, but it was a foregone conclusion.
They weren't called the Guard Regiment for nothing. And Rommel was in that battalion, after all.
...At least, that's how Battalion Commander Hindenburg saw it.
"..."
Hindenburg, who had been meticulously reviewing the mountain of reports piled up like a hill, finally set them down and called for his valet.
"Move all of this to 'that mansion.'"
"A-all of them, sir?"
Hindenburg's eyes sharpened momentarily at the valet's trembling voice.
"What, can't you manage it?"
"No, sir. I'll get it done."
"Hm."
The valet promptly summoned others and, with much grunting, hauled the reports stacked in Hindenburg's room away.
It looked like they'd need a wagon rather than a car.
Hindenburg sat in his chair for a brief rest before standing up.
He then boarded the car waiting outside.
"Ugh, to Silesia."
"Silesia... You mean Count Schlieffen's villa, sir?"
"Yes. I've got to go anyway, so might as well head early and mooch some meals."
Hindenburg grumbled in response.
Vroom—the chauffeur started driving but asked with an uneasy look.
"I heard the Count incurred His Majesty the Kaiser's wrath... Is it really all right to visit like this?"
"How many times must I say it? That's not the case."
"Right, just rumors, then..."
"He was simply exiled."
"..."
The chauffeur was bewildered.
Was it really fine to casually visit such a dangerous figure, whom the empire's sovereign had personally banished?
But Hindenburg had no such qualms.
He held a position and prestige too lofty for the Kaiser to touch recklessly, and the fact that the Kaiser had already dealt with Schlieffen that way had built up some resentment.
He was certain the military wouldn't stand idly by if they tried to cast him out too.
Especially after choosing that mediocre Moltke as Chief of Staff over him.
...Plus, he planned to retire after finishing his final duty anyway.
"We've arrived."
As he organized his thoughts on that final duty, the car had already pulled up to the Count's villa.
The chauffeur got out and opened the door, and Hindenburg stepped down after him.
"Hm."
The villa lay shrouded in heavy silence, steeped in an atmosphere as somber as ever.
It seemed to reflect its master's mood perfectly.
Guided by the head butler, Hindenburg entered the mansion.
"You've come, *cough*."
"You look even worse than last time I saw you."
The sight of Count Schlieffen lying in bed, seemingly drained of both vitality and will, darkened Hindenburg's heart.
But as if scoffing at such a reaction, the Count mixed a snort into his cough and spoke.
*Cough*. "The Lord is calling me. Consider my age... I've lived long enough."
"Didn't you say you'd at least see your plan completed before going?"
"With that eight-armed invalid blocking the way, what choice do I have but to die?"
Hindenburg flinched at the Count's radical words as he moved to sit.
But thinking he had nothing left to lose anyway, he sat down.
At that, the Count gave a faint smirk and asked.
"Once you think that way, curiosity lingers about how the world turns. In the end, you took up the mantle and tested this trench warfare business yourself, eh?"
"The young ones these days lack grit, so no one steps up. It's quite the spectacle, shoving the work onto an old man about to retire."
"Old man? You're far younger than me, you brat."
The two chuckled softly.
As the laughter subsided, Hindenburg explained calmly.
"...I saw it myself, and it's not without promise. If the Schlieffen Plan fails, it feels like it could easily happen on the vast Western Front."
"Is that so."
"However, I doubt such a stalemate would occur on the broader Eastern Front."
"Yes... I suppose so. He said the same."
Hindenburg nodded faintly as the Count let out a hollow laugh.
All the predictions and words worth noting were written in that thick report he had authored.
"Indeed, that's exactly what was written."
Silence descended upon the room for a moment.
Gazing at the opposite wall, each lost in inscrutable thoughts, the Count spoke first.
"I can't wrap my head around it. *Cough*. Is all that really accurate?"
"...Genius."
"Genius, my foot... That's in the realm of the occult."
"Isn't calling it genius more rational than occult?"
Hindenburg retorted quietly to the grumbling Count.
Soon, the Count furrowed his brow and shook his head.
"Tch, whether occult or precognition bordering on it, what does it matter? *Cough*. As long as the job gets done."
"True. Thanks to that lieutenant, his battalion won the mock battle."
"Lieutenant? Lieutenant, eh."
The Count's eyes wavered briefly at Hindenburg's words.
It had been a few months since he last saw him as a cadet.
To think he had already been commissioned in that short time—it was astonishing.
*Cough cough*! "How's he been lately, anyway?"
"Don't tell me that lieutenant hasn't sent even a single letter."
Hindenburg reacted fiercely to the Count's words.
As if outraged at such insolence... but the Count waved it off with a small laugh.
"I suppose I was a bit mischievous."
"Even so..."
"Right after being chased out by that eight-armed invalid, I sent a letter telling him to come at once."
"..."
Hindenburg clamped his mouth shut.
He knew exactly how insidious the intent behind those simple words was... he had no choice.
The Count stared at him plainly before speaking slowly.
"I had to confirm it. Whether that fellow was just a smart aleck relying on foresight, or the real deal."
"..."
"Times are what they are. In such circumstances, deficiency is a problem, of course—but excess can be too."
The Count turned his head toward the incense stick flickering faintly on the bedside table.
Staring at his reflection wavering in the glass and flame, he soon picked up the incense and asked Hindenburg.
"Got a cigarette? It's been ages since I craved one."