Chapter 51
Chapter 51
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: Snare Operation (6)
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Pa-pa, pa-pa-pa, pa-pa-ra-pa~! Pa-pa-pa!!!
The earsplitting blare of that massive trumpet assaulted my ears. Damn... I'd been hearing this sound from Baron Kroitel's army for nearly two years now...
I just couldn't get used to this godawful noise that grated on my nerves.
If only I could wake up without hearing this irritating trumpet blast, I'd have no other wishes in life...
But even though the trumpet had jolted me awake, I deliberately kept my eyes shut.
Because the privates and lance corporals handling all the cleanup in the tent right now were worlds apart from me in rank...
"Hans, hurry up!! Roll call's almost here!!"
"Even if we haven't seen any action, the enemy's close by!! Use your heads, you idiots!! If you're late for roll call, the ensign will chew you out!! No, it's a battlefield, so it'll be flogging!!"
"Private John!! Hands where I can see them!!!"
"Private John, I'll fix it right away, sir!!!"
Hmm... Guess it's about time to get up if I want to make roll call on time.
With that, I rose leisurely—truly leisurely—exuding the dignity of a sergeant, and slowly changed into my uniform.
Then I tidied up my spot at their pace.
"We've got a bit before roll call, right?"
"Yes, Sergeant!"
"Hustle up. From now on, except for guard duty days, you can play soccer like His Excellency taught us, take naps, whatever—but if you're late for roll call... You know, right?"
Hearing that, Squad Leader Sands the corporal swallowed hard and replied.
"Yes, Sergeant Sands."
**
Once our squad finished cleaning the tent, we hurried to roll call to avoid being late.
On the way, I spotted the rear support guys placing flat stones over campfires...
Looks like we're slaughtering a cow again today.
Yesterday, our company was on guard duty, so we only got some cold beef scraps and the usual wheat-and-barley bread...
As those thoughts crossed my mind, we reached the company roll call area. The other squads had already arrived and formed up.
I took our squad to our spot, and Sergeant Sden from the neighboring squad grinned and struck up a conversation.
"Hey, our squads are up against each other this time..."
"Yeah."
"Feels like death if we lose..."
"Why?"
"Well..."
As Sden started to continue, the company commander's booming voice rang out.
"Entire company, attention!!!"
At those words, Sden, I—no, every soldier—instantly stopped chatting and faced the commander.
Next, the commander lifted his helmet slightly and announced,
"Today, our company has been ordered by His Excellency the Baron to rest!!"
At that, all of us soldiers, myself included, erupted in cheers at the thought of no half-day guard shifts like yesterday.
"Hooray!!!"
"Long live Baron Kroitel!"
"We're finally off too!!"
The commander grinned at us and said,
"Even I, your company commander, prefer lounging like this over standing guard. Napping and playing soccer beats being on edge all day, right?"
"Yes, sir!!!!!"
Then the commander grew serious.
"But don't disappoint me like you did three days ago. No—if you want beef, you have to win. No choice, you must win..."
A few days back, His Excellency had suddenly declared the fortress complete and the enemy's supplies running low, so we should enjoy a feast.
He grouped eight companies per team: first place gets a whole cow, second a half, third and fourth a quarter, fifth through seventh get pigs and chickens, and eighth place...
"Remember losing to Captain Beastman's reserve company last time? While the others gorged on meat and white bread, what did we eat? Yeah, that hardtack mush with salted meat. Want that again?"
We answered as one.
"No, sir!!!"
"Then win, no matter what. Sergeants Sden, Sands!! You must win."
**
Under that vow to never suffer 'hardtack porridge' again while others feasted on beef and pork, we ran our hearts out.
"Private Hans!!! Run!!!"
"Private Hans!!"
"Private Hans!! Thank you, Sergeant, for kicking the ball this way!"
"Nah, you received it perfectly, Hans!! That's 1-0 thanks to you!!"
"As expected of a corporal—on a whole other level from the others. Your feet were a blur during soccer."
"No, Sergeant."
"Kid's got a silver tongue. I'll defend next match, so you lead the attack."
In company games, I always took the best role for our squad, but we had to win here...
I wanted that beef, tasty bread, and beer so bad... I cooperated, yielding the ball as needed.
And so, we made it to the finals... to decide first place.
Before kickoff, the company commander approached, clapped our shoulders, and said,
"Your commander is proud of you. Just one more."
"Thank you, sir."
He smiled at us and added,
"Win today, and by my authority, unlimited beer. Plus, by my authority, your duty tomorrow..."
"No way..."
"I'll switch it to company HQ guard. Drink all you want and crash in my tent—no complaints!! But lose, and you're all on first watch tomorrow. You know why I'm this serious."
Ah... Right, today's final is against Captain Brian's company.
Those two go way back to their mercenary days, but if we lose, they'll tease us for a 'week'...
Meaning a week of hell if we lose...
"We'll win and come back."
"I expect great things."
**
We grabbed the ball first at kickoff and scored, but...
Soon after,
Back and forth we went, trading goals until it was tied.
If we don't score this attack, it's a draw.
I dashed toward the enemy to make the final push.
I got the ball, dodged their attacker, and faced their defender.
"Can't pass here, old timer..."
"Outta my way, rookie!!"
"Just some other company's vet, whatever."
"'Whatever?' Did you just say 'whatever'?"
"What if I did, old timer!!"
After that brief trash talk, I feinted right and passed left.
"Private First Class Mark, go!!"
"Private First Class Mark, on it!!"
Mark took the ball, flashed me a grin, then charged laughing.
He dazzled past two defenders with slick moves, then struck toward goal with his left foot.
Their goalie dove desperately to block it, but...
"It's in!!!"
"We won!!!"
Mark's shot sailed just over him into the net.
Whew, we lived. If we'd lost here, the commander might've gone nuts and piled on work after guard shifts...
Soon after, the commander ran over shouting,
"Fall in!!"
We soccer players hustled to him.
As we gathered, he looked at us with emotional eyes and said just one thing.
"Your commander is proud of you. Drink all the beer you want tonight—you're all on duty."
**
By evening, flat stones were on campfires per squad.
Next, wood platters arrived with pre-prepped beef for us, courtesy of the other soldiers.
Rich red meat studded with snowy white fat... With white wheat bread and beer...
"Man, looks delicious. Hey, Private Max. Get that meat on quick."
"Private Max, yes sir!"
"Private First Class Jack! Beer and bread coming up!!"
With that, Max slapped the glistening beef onto the sizzling hot plate.
It hissed, filling the air with savory aroma.
We all swallowed hard at the smell.
"Driving me crazy, Sergeant."
"...Yeah."
As the meat grilled—feeling like an eternity—the red glow turned brown.
Done.
As senior squad member and leader, I grabbed beer in one hand, skewer in the other first.
Speared some meat, ate, then chased with bitter, nutty beer...
Heaven who?
Then I shouted to everyone,
"Eat up, all of you. It's just one cow—even if the whole company stuffs itself, there won't be enough!! But our squad won't waste a scrap—that's cursed!! Minimum one kilo per man!! Execute!!!"
At my forced order, the squad laughed and echoed,
"Execute!!!!"
**
Seems the siege was dragging morale down, so with surplus food rotting anyway, His Excellency threw this feast to burn through it...
Worked wonders. Baldt said squad unity's skyrocketed compared to before...
Back at the barony, maybe run a 'company league,' divide into platoons for tournaments?
A little prize money and meat as stakes? Effect would be huge...
Lost in those happy thoughts, munching soldier-grilled meat with Ella, when a messenger rushed in and reported,
"Report! Sir Lance, commander of Helsman Castle's garrison, requests to speak directly with Your Excellency!!!"
...Perfect. It's about to fall.