Chapter 81
Chapter 81
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Battle of Waterberg (1)
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Upon arriving at Waterberg, the German forces immediately set up camp on Governor Leutwein's orders and busily maneuvered to encircle the town.
In the midst of the whinnies of horses and the bellows of camels echoing here and there, I told Governor Leutwein that Letto-Vorbeck, Hendrik Witbooi, and Ludendorff and I would scout the surrounding area to familiarize ourselves with the terrain that would soon become the battlefield.
Of course, it wasn't something I needed to do personally, but with everyone else working so hard, it felt awkward just sitting around doing nothing.
Even in that laid-back healing game where you're supposed to take it easy, the Korean blood in me kicked in, volunteering for labor and hardship.
"Pardon? Me too?"
Meanwhile, Ludendorff, who had been leisurely enjoying his coffee behind us, scowled at the suggestion of joining the reconnaissance, radiating an aura of reluctance.
Honestly, I didn't want to take this guy either, but merit is merit, and grudges are grudges.
I sighed and said,
"You're a staff officer, aren't you, Major Ludendorff? That means you need to survey the battlefield with your own eyes more than anyone."
"Well, the map shows..."
"If we slack on recon just because we trust the map and something goes wrong, will you take responsibility, Major Ludendorff?"
Maps in this era weren't like the minimaps in RTS games.
How accurate could maps of Africa drawn in the mid-to-late 19th century be in the early 20th, without GPS?
"Ugh... Fine. Let's just go."
Unable to counter my logical argument, Ludendorff grumbled in response.
Of course, a staff officer of Ludendorff's caliber wouldn't be ignorant of such basics.
This guy was just being lazy, like a grizzled old sergeant.
"Baron, it seems you and Major Ludendorff don't get along?"
As Ludendorff vented his frustration on some poor junior soldier while preparing for recon, Letto-Vorbeck whispered curiously.
Hendrik Witbooi, equally intrigued, leaned in with an excited expression.
Why was everyone so nosy about other people's relationships?
"He's a Junker. No way we'd get along."
"If that's the case, Governor Leutwein is a Junker too, but you two seem friendly enough."
I appreciated Letto-Vorbeck's kind words, but there were complicated reasons here.
Most of it stemmed from Field Marshal von Trotha, whose fate—dead or alive—was still unknown.
No, this is the perfect time to settle that issue once and for all.
Even if von Trotha had pressed a knife to my throat and demanded my death, Ludendorff wasn't the type to actually go through with it if he had any sense.
Setting aside our bad blood, he'd end up shouldering all the blame himself—what would he trust in von Trotha to take that risk?
If it were during the demonstration, maybe, but a von Trotha on the brink of death wouldn't do much for Ludendorff's future.
Maybe that's why Ludendorff had been in a foul mood ever since arriving in Southwest Africa.
But if I played this right, I might just leash a valuable asset named Erich Ludendorff for myself.
In original history, he'd turned Wilhelm II into a figurehead in the latter half of World War I, run a military dictatorship, and contributed to Germany's downfall—but as shown at Tannenberg, his staff officer skills were top-notch.
Besides, with talent in short supply, I had to make use of him.
With a tight leash to keep him from mischief, of course.
And the current situation was perfect for getting Ludendorff to slip the collar around his own neck.
"I'll explain the issue between Major Ludendorff and me later. I might need your help with it, after all."
"Our help?"
"Yes. I'm thinking of acquiring a new slave this time."
At my words, Letto-Vorbeck and Witbooi tilted their heads with puzzled looks, as if wondering what I meant.
Well, Ludendorff wasn't the priority right now anyway.
"Alright, shall we get going?"
As I said before, public duty and personal matters must be strictly separated.
The battle came first.
"Baron, all units are ready."
"...Hoo. The day has finally come."
"Take a deep breath and relax. Every man faces this sooner or later. You're just a bit ahead of the curve."
I nodded, exhaling at Governor Leutwein's steady voice meant to ease my tension.
The morning sun hadn't fully risen yet, but I wasn't sleepy.
Instead, primal human fear and surging adrenaline from extreme tension made my heart race chaotically, chasing away any drowsiness.
Sweeping my eyes over the African savanna that would soon be a battlefield, I gave the order.
"Governor Leutwein, commence the attack."
"Yes, sir. All units, initiate the offensive now. Forward march—advance!"
"Forward march!"
Governor Leutwein's booming command was echoed by officers and NCOs.
Soon, flag signals and trumpets blaring the advance rang out noisily from all sides of Waterberg.
"The Germans are coming!"
"Warriors! Take up your weapons!"
The sounds reached the Herero across the river, who had erected barricades in preparation for the German assault.
The battle had begun.
Bam-para~ bam-pa-para~ bam-para-bam-pa~!
"Advance! Advance!"
"Keep in step—march straight!"
Step! Step! Step! Step!
The disciplined footfalls rang out as the German lines advanced on Waterberg Plateau, tightening around the Herero like a noose.
True to their reputation for iron discipline, not a single step deviated.
"Good thing the river's low."
"It's the dry season now. Rainy season would've been trouble."
As Governor Leutwein said, this time of year in Namibia and southern Africa was dry season.
Thanks to that, the river was shallow enough to wade across without special preparations.
"Time to start the bombardment."
Muttering that, Governor Leutwein lowered his binoculars and ordered the waiting artillery commander.
"Artillery, commence fire. Target: Herero forces ahead."
"Jawohl! Artillery, prepare to fire!"
The artillery commander saluted and barked orders; gunners hurriedly adjusted their pieces.
Soon they signaled readiness, and Governor Leutwein and I plugged our ears with our palms.
"Feuer!"
Boom!! Bang!
Even with ears covered, the piercing roar shook us as field guns spat flames in unison.
Crash! Boom!!
"Argh!"
"The barricades...!"
Moments later, the far bank erupted into chaos.
The Herero barricades proved useless.
If it had just been the Schutztruppe short on heavy weapons and artillery, maybe—but with over thirty guns shipped from the homeland, wooden barricades were no obstacle to the Germans.
"Waaaaah!!"
"Halt! Halt!"
"Herero charging!"
As the shelling continued, the Herero opted for a charge.
Roaring war cries to banish fear, they rushed the Germans with rifles, traditional spears, and shields.
"Better to close with our lines to dodge shells and leverage their numbers—that's the plan."
"Worth bringing them from the homeland."
Governor Leutwein grinned in anticipation at my words.
Meanwhile, our troops assumed firing positions at the Herero approach.
"Fire!"
Rat-a-tat-tat──!!
At the officers' curt order, our soldiers pulled triggers in volley.
Leading Herero warriors crumpled, bleeding, under the German fire—but like veterans of such sights, the Herero pressed on undeterred, surging like a black wave.
"Dieee!"
As gleaming spear tips neared our troops' noses,
"Machine pistol squads, forward!"
The Germans countered the charge by deploying machine pistols.
These were the ones I'd commissioned from the Bergman Arsenal—vastly improved prototypes over those sent to the Russians, faster and sturdier.
Brat-a-tat-tat-tat───!!
"?!"
The distinctive sharp bursts echoed everywhere.
The machine pistols hosed bullets at any Herero getting close, dropping them before they could react to the unfamiliar weapon.
Some warriors raised shields, but their wooden and leather defenses couldn't stop the onslaught.
"Charge!"
"Waaaaah~!!"
The German officers seized the moment.
They ordered a countercharge; bayonets fixed, our troops smashed the disordered Herero front.
A bloody melee ensued, and even from afar, the gruesome scene turned my stomach.
"Urk..."
But I swallowed it down.
Honestly, I wanted to turn and retreat to camp, but I couldn't.
This was the path I'd chosen.
Frightening as it was, enduring was right.
Many more would die because of my decisions ahead.
The moment I looked away, I wouldn't be me anymore.
"Governor! The Herero are retreating!"
"I see it."
"Pursue?"
"No pursuit. One mistake and the encirclement breaks. Tell forward units to hold formation and advance slowly per plan—like wolves hunting deer."
"Yes, sir!"
As the subordinate saluted, Governor Leutwein turned to Ludendorff, overseeing operations.
"Major Ludendorff, how long since the other units departed?"
"28 minutes. If no delays, they'll cross the river and reach the Herero camp soon."
Ludendorff checked his watch.
The "other units" were those advancing from the flanks and rear to encircle the Herero, bypassing the front.
"Then we'll shell Waterberg meanwhile to pressure Maharero. Artillery, shift fire to Herero camp."
At the order, guns elevated toward the Herero positions.
Boom! Bang!
Massive explosions bloomed on the high ground below the mountain.
Crash! Boom!!
"Kyaaah──!"
"Hurry, get the cattle to safety. Lose them, and we're done!"
"Someone's trapped here! Help!"
The merciless German barrage turned the Herero camp into hell as shells rained down.
Dozens of guns unleashed firepower the Herero had never faced.
Only then did they regret assuming the mainland Germans were no stronger than the Schutztruppe.
But regret, as always, came too late.
Veteran warriors who'd clashed with Germans before recovered quickly, but civilians—women, children—panicked in confusion, while startled livestock spread chaos everywhere amid the blasts.
"Don't panic! Moving wildly is more dangerous!"
As the Herero wavered under the shelling, Samuel Maharero bellowed to match the thunder.
Yet even he groaned inwardly at the indiscriminate shells striking warriors, civilians, women, children, and livestock alike.
The damage is worse than expected.
Screams of tribesfolk and bellows of cattle sapped the warriors' morale, who moments ago burned with zeal to crush the Germans.
The German firepower dwarfed their expectations, and even those sent to the river had fled from unprecedented weapons.
At this rate, the Herero would perish under steel rain without a proper fight.
"Chief Maharero! Germans approaching from the north via mountain paths!"
"German flags sighted west and east!"
"Chief, southern Germans crossing the river! They'll overrun us soon!"
But the guns and new weapons weren't all.
The Germans advanced slowly, carefully—like hunters herding prey—from every direction: north, west, east, south.
They aimed to annihilate the Herero here or inflict such losses as to force surrender, ending the rebellion.
Stay, and we die!
He and the warriors were prepared for death, but not the 60,000 civilians, including women and children.
For the Herero future, they had to survive.
"Change of plans."
Samuel Maharero declared gravely to his people.
His eyes reflected the distant land of glowing red death.