Chapter 74
Chapter 74
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 74
Chapter Title: Second Battle of Ypres (2)
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Originally, the objective of the Second Battle of Ypres in real history had been to shrink the salient.
There was the advantage of being able to attack from three sides, but that also meant committing a large number of troops.
Especially on the Ypres front, where Germany was at a disadvantage in terms of supply, they judged it better to stabilize the line.
However, thanks to various factors, Germany's situation was better than in real history, so they sought to seriously target Ypres through the Second Battle of Ypres.
Therefore, they...
"Hold the line!! Gah, hold it no matter what!! Urk...!!"
"Cough!! Ack!"
Following the 87th Division, they launched an assault on the British 5th and 27th Divisions accompanied by chlorine gas attacks.
It was the moment full-scale chemical warfare began.
"Things seem to be going well."
"Hahaha, indeed. With this level of support from OHL, they have to go well. Of course."
Looking at the major in front of him, who had been dispatched as a liaison officer, the Württemberg commander broke out in a cold sweat.
The commander, as the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Württemberg and a duke, held considerable authority, but even he could only fidget in front of this mere major.
It was because he was a liaison officer dispatched from OHL, and delving deeper...
Because he was none other than Erwin Rommel.
"Supply consumption is within projections, and there are no disruptions or variables in frontline operations, so it's ideal. It seems OHL's requirements are being fulfilled well."
"Y-Yes."
Erwin Rommel.
The young war hero and genius theorist who had rampaged on the Eastern Front, brought in by Falkenhayn.
Even OHL, which had no foundation for him—not to mention slightly hostile toward him—had been completely captivated, so there was no shortage in evaluating him as now possessing political power as well.
If it ended there, it might be one thing, but rumors circulated that he even had Falkenhayn's favor, so no one saw him as just a major.
"Is there any additional support needed?"
"No?! None!"
Sending such a Rommel meant OHL was watching this battle with very, very, extremely close attention.
No matter how high his status, it was an immense pressure for Württemberg.
The commander tried to act stern... but it didn't look easy.
"Come to think of it, it's an honor. You're the Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Württemberg, aren't you?"
"Uh, yes."
Perhaps taking pity on him, Rommel spoke amiably.
"I'm from Württemberg too. My book was published in Stuttgart."
"...Ah!"
At Rommel's words, Württemberg tilted his head then let out an exclamation.
"Right, Württemberg's genius! I remember now! We even provided support to you!"
"Not genius, but prodigy... well, I've been called that, embarrassingly."
"Heh... It's not even been ten years, and you've risen to major..."
As Rommel slightly bowed his head, Württemberg was even more impressed.
Once one reached the nobility level, minor investments, sponsorships, and charity were virtues that had to be upheld.
As the Crown Prince and duke of the kingdom, Württemberg had made many such investments, and one of them had reached Rommel.
"Thank you for supporting me back then. It seems the higher-ups know we have a close connection and sent me for that reason."
"You..."
So don't worry too much. He seemed to hear such warm words trailing off.
In front of the staff, he had even created a dynamic of sponsor and sponsored, boosting Württemberg's authority.
'He's a better fellow than I thought.'
It was only natural that the commander's tension melted away.
"Haha, it's not strange for me to sponsor a genius from our kingdom. I'm the one who's grateful. You've raised the kingdom's honor."
"Not at all."
As Württemberg naturally smiled and spoke proudly, Rommel gave a faint smile.
The commander seemed to have shed his burden as intended.
Soon, reports on progress came in again, and headquarters entered a meeting.
Rommel stepped back a pace and observed appropriately.
"The chemical attack was more effective than expected. Since launching the full-scale assault, our forces have been scoring victories repeatedly."
"However, the advance is slow, and with horses—the previous supply method—gone, overloads are occurring frequently."
"I thought trucks had fully replaced them?"
"It's not the number of trucks; it's the fuel supply."
"Ugh... That's."
Württemberg furrowed his brow and glanced at Rommel.
Naturally, the 4th Army didn't procure fuel independently but received it according to OHL's supply plans.
"Is the supply situation serious?"
Catching the commander's glance, Rommel asked the staff.
He had roughly reviewed it earlier, but wondered if there were issues with detailed figures.
Then a soldier sensibly flipped through documents, and a staff officer answered.
"As you checked earlier, it's mostly within projections. However, if the battle drags on, supply efficiency could drop further."
"..."
Flip— As Rommel turned the pages, headquarters fell silent.
They pretended otherwise, but everyone was on edge, watching him.
With the stigma of foiling the Schlieffen Plan already on them, one word from Rommel, OHL's liaison officer, could cost someone their head.
Finally, the major quickly finished reviewing the documents and spoke.
"No major issues."
"Phew..."
"I'll report to the top, but support will continue only until we're confident of taking Ypres. Therefore, aim for a short decisive battle."
The staff, who had secretly sighed in relief, nodded at Rommel's words.
Rommel stepped back again, and the meeting resumed in a more relaxed atmosphere.
They felt this inscrutable major was favorable toward them.
Of course, the major himself...
'Ah, I miss Elise.'
...had no such thoughts.
Having grasped the general situation at 4th Army headquarters and even suggesting improvements, it was now up to them.
The Battle of Ypres was proceeding smoothly to victory, and for the enemy to block the Germans, they needed at least gas masks.
No matter how slow the advance, it would still be faster than the enemy's gas mask supply, so no worries.
'By the way, how should I get rid of Falkenhayn.'
Thus, Rommel's thoughts naturally turned to higher-priority matters.
'Can't leave him until next year...'
"Sigh."
Flinch— Those who preemptively flinched trembled at Rommel's sigh.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Corporal, deliver this letter to battalion headquarters. Tell them to move their forces to Point B as marked, as quickly as possible."
"Understood."
The corporal, with his distinctive toothbrush mustache, familiarly grabbed the letter and gas mask, saluted the officer, and quickly moved his legs to deliver it.
Frontline wired communications couldn't withstand most of the intense battlefield changes, so they relied on runners or carrier pigeons.
The corporal was one of countless such runners.
"Damn it."
Boom!! Bang!! Even just seeing the corporal advancing through the shelling made it clear that being a runner was grueling work.
Unlike regular infantry, they had to constantly dart outside trenches across open ground to relay orders.
British records even claimed the average runner's survival time was just over a week.
The terror of not knowing when death would come, the burden that failing to deliver could collapse a battalion or regiment—countless runners suffered mentally because of this...
But this corporal was among the braver ones. The Iron Cross pinned to his chest was proof.
"Whew... another gas attack?"
As he cautiously ran and caught a pungent smell, the corporal hurriedly donned his gas mask.
In the yellow fog that had appeared, he frequently checked his compass and pressed forward.
As he neared the front, the corporal steadied his growing anxiety...
"Gaaaaahhh...!!!!"
"Wh-What?!"
"S-Save meee... save meee...!! Gah...!!"
Startled when what he thought was an enemy corpse grabbed his ankle, he kicked wildly.
The enemy soldier, whose face and body skin had melted away, was screaming while vomiting flesh from his mouth.
"You bastard!!"
The melted-skinned enemy crawled toward him like a climber. Already half-corpse, yet the pain seemed unending.
Horrified by the gruesome sight, the corporal tried to shake him off, but the enemy clung tenaciously with inexplicable strength.
"Heeelp... heeeeelp... pleeeease..."
"Y-You psycho...!!"
His body froze at the sight of the corpse come to life.
Just as the enemy began crawling up his leg...
"Stay put."
"Eek!!"
Bang!! A bullet pierced the enemy's head, turning it into a real corpse.
The officer who saved the corporal casually kicked the body aside and grumbled.
"Whew— Didn't expect it to still be alive. Impressive."
"Th-Thank you. My god, I was so startled..."
"Well, a corpse moving would startle anyone. Just get used to it. You'll see a lot more."
"Huff— Yes, sir..."
Calming his breath, the corporal looked up. His heart still pounded, but relief was settling in.
The officer, also wearing a gas mask, waited for him to compose himself before asking.
"Hm, you're a runner, I take it?"
"Yes, sir. Delivering orders to 1st Battalion."
"Conveniently, that's our battalion. Let's go tog— Huh, wearing an Iron Cross? Not your average runner, eh?"
"Hahaha..."
As the corporal adjusted his mask bashfully, the officer chuckled.
Giving an appreciative look, he asked again.
"What's your name? Since we're walking together anyway, let's chat."
At the officer's friendly demeanor, the corporal smiled and replied.
"Corporal Adolf Hitler."
A name that felt unfamiliar, yet somehow destined to endure.