Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 114 The Problem of Squad Firepower
Compared to the cocktail party, Morin found himself more interested in thinking about troop organization and equipment.

Once you get into the zone, you can't help but keep thinking about it.

So after considering the weapons for the assault team members, Morin also felt that the riflemen shouldn't be left out.

The bolt-action rifles that the Imperial Army infantry are now all equipped with are indeed quite accurate, but their rate of fire is too slow.

In the increasingly fast-paced and ever-changing close-quarters combat of the future, the time it takes to fire a shot and pull back the bolt could be enough for you to be killed by the enemy.

So we still need to find a way to develop a semi-automatic rifle.

As for developing an assault rifle in one go, Morin had also considered that.
But his understanding of that thing was limited to some basic parameters and fundamental principles; it was still a bit unrealistic for him to actually build it.

"We have to take it one step at a time. Let's get the semi-automatic rifle out first."

In addition to individual weapons, platoon-level support firepower also needs to be put on the agenda.

The 'air-cooled machine gun' mentioned by the girl named Helga Schmeisser, whom I met at the Imperial Patent Office, is a very suitable technological approach.

The MG08 water-cooled heavy machine gun currently in service with the Saxon Army is excellent in terms of sustained firepower and accuracy, but it is simply too bulky.

The gun body, gun mount, ammunition box, and coolant tank alone require several people to handle, making it impossible to keep up with the rapid advance of infantry squads and platoons.

Lightweight and flexible air-cooled light machine guns that can be carried by a single soldier or a two-person team are the core of future infantry squad firepower.

Speaking of which, Morin still thinks that during the 'Maxson Offensive', the six heavy machine gun squads of the 1st Company were all Saxon supermen.

Although pack animals were used for transport, during tactical maneuvers, in order to facilitate rapid fire suppression, the heavy machine gun teams would advance while enduring the MG08 guns.
"Herja Schmeisser Schmeisser, why does that surname seem so familiar?"

Morin racked his brains for a long time, but couldn't recall anything.

However, he felt that the weapon designers who were able to submit the 'air-cooled light machine gun' proposal at this time were already very forward-thinking.

If there's an opportunity later, Cecilia could try to find someone to make contact.
Instead of lying in bed thinking, Morin sat down at his desk, took out paper and pen, and began to write down what was on his mind.

"Besides firearms, we could also try to get some infantry support firepower."

"A mortar? That's something we could get, and we could even try using the gunpowder-free propulsion technology of the magic crystal cannon."

"We do have a prototype of a rifle grenade, but its reliability is poor. Perhaps we could consider how to develop a 40mm grenade launcher."

"Individual anti-armor knight weapons should also be put on the agenda. We can't expect infantrymen to actually carry 'dung-pulling treasures' into battle; that would be too inefficient."

"If the gunpowder-free propulsion technology of the magic crystal cannon could be made lighter, maybe we could even create a barrel-shaped one?"

With the 'swish swish' of writing, a piece of paper was quickly filled.

But these are just ideas; their practical implementation still requires professionals.
After considering individual firepower, the next step is protection.

Aside from the fact that the pointed helmet, which is full of flaws, absolutely needs to be replaced, Morin doesn't have a good solution for protecting the torso in the short term.

In his mind, the only individual bulletproof equipment that could be associated with the present era was that piece of bulletproof steel armor pieced together like a lobster shell.

That thing was heavy and bulky, and it could hardly stop rifle bullets at close range, making it impossible to march or fight normally while wearing it.

But Morin had no idea how to make more modern bulletproof vests.

Before he time-traveled, he studied command at military academy, not materials engineering. His professors never taught him how to work on bulletproof materials.

"However, this world does have magic, that illogical thing."

A sudden inspiration struck Morin.

Since armored knights can enchant melee weapons, and the armor and shields used by generals' guards also have enchanted protective effects, it means that this technology must exist.

The reasons for not promoting it on a large scale are either that it is too expensive to be widely adopted, or that its use has certain limitations.
However, Maureen didn't know the specific reason at the moment, so she still needed to find out the situation.

Human thought processes can sometimes be quite leaps in direction.

When thinking about magic, Maureen thought of a problem he had always overlooked.

Logically speaking, a 'wild mage' who awakened on the battlefield should have attracted the attention of certain relevant units.

But until now, not only have no mage organizations come looking for him, but not even a single person has come to inquire about the situation.

Throughout the entire Saxon Empire, there seemed to be no unified institution for managing spellcasters.
However, there is actually an organization called the 'Imperial Spellcasters Association' that specifically manages the mages within the Saxon Empire.

"Damn, could it be that these mages are forming cliques and engaging in xenophobia?"

Morin couldn't help but make a comment.

He felt that the world's mage community was like a mysterious, closed circle, and it was difficult for outsiders to see its full picture.

Just as he was lost in thought, there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Young Master Morin, Madam is almost ready. Please wait in the lobby downstairs for a moment."

A maid spoke softly from outside the door.

"So fast?"

Maureen was somewhat surprised. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table; only an hour and a half had passed.

This woman's makeup efficiency was much higher than he had imagined.

He straightened his uniform, put on white gloves, picked up his command sword, and walked out of the room.

When he arrived in the lobby on the first floor, he immediately attracted everyone's attention.

The butlers and maids in the hall couldn't help but let out a small gasp when they saw Morin in his military uniform and medals.

His crisp military uniform accentuated his tall and slender figure, and the Iron Cross on his chest gleamed under the lights. Paired with the command sword at his waist and the impeccably worn white gloves, he exuded an imposing and heroic aura.

This was completely different from the somewhat frivolous young nobleman they remembered.

However, this amazing feeling didn't last long.

Because when Cecilia's figure appeared at the top of the spiral staircase on the second floor, the entire hall fell into silence instantly.

All eyes were drawn to her like iron filings attracted by a magnet.

Even Morin felt his breath catch in his throat at that moment.

Cecilia chose a deep purple off-the-shoulder evening gown tonight.

This haute couture gown from Paris, with its silky satin fabric shimmering with a mysterious and noble luster under the crystal chandelier, perfectly accentuated her breathtaking curves.

The skirt's design is not complicated, yet it sways gracefully as you walk, like a night-blooming cereus quietly blooming in the night.

Around her neck hung a necklace made of countless tiny diamonds, with a sapphire the size of a pigeon's egg hanging in the center. Its deep blue color complemented her gray-blue eyes, creating a breathtaking effect.

Her long, honey-colored and platinum-colored hair was carefully styled into an elegant and intricate updo, with a few slightly curled strands playfully dangling by her ears, adding a touch of femininity.

At this moment, even Maureen couldn't help but sigh, realizing that the old 'Maureen' still had some self-control and was a real man.
As Cecilia slowly descended the stairs, holding onto the handrail, the whole world seemed to become her backdrop.

Maureen stood there, stunned, at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her. He felt his heart pounding uncontrollably, as if all the blood was rushing to his brain.

My pitiful family ties seem to be deteriorating rapidly?
At that moment, he completely forgot about the assault battalion, the semi-automatic rifles, and the 20 million marks.

Only one thought remained in his mind.

This is so beautiful.
It wasn't until Cecilia reached the last few steps that Morin seemed to wake up from his daze.

He instinctively took a step forward, straightened his chest, and then gracefully extended his right hand.

This is a standard gesture for inviting a dance partner.

Cecilia was slightly taken aback when she saw Morin's actions, but then a captivating smile spread across her beautiful grey-blue eyes.

She gently placed her slender hand, clad in a long silk glove, in Maureen's palm.

"Let's go, my war hero."

Her voice was soft and pleasant, with a hint of teasing.

Morin took Cecilia's soft, boneless hand in his and helped her down the last step. The two stood side by side. Although this description was not quite right, they truly looked like a match made in heaven.

Luna, the head maid standing to the side, looked at the scene before her, which was comparable to an oil painting, and her eyes almost sparkled with admiration.

She couldn't help but sigh inwardly that the lady and young master would definitely be the most eye-catching attendees at tonight's party.

As the carriage smoothly entered a brightly lit manor, Maureen and Cecilia arrived at the venue for the party.

Although this manor is not as large as Cecilia's residence, it exudes an ancient and profound charm.

The car door was opened by the waiter, and Maureen got out first, then turned around and extended her hand very naturally.

Cecilia placed her slender hand, clad in a long silk glove, in his palm, and with his help, gracefully stepped down from the carriage.

As the two walked side by side toward the open banquet hall doors, they instantly became the focus of everyone's attention.

The noisy conversation seemed to pause for a moment.

The men in the hall were all captivated by Cecilia's breathtaking beauty and elegance.

Meanwhile, their female companions, while amazed by their beauty, secretly cast scrutinizing and comparative glances at them.

But soon, people's attention was drawn to the young officer beside Cecilia.

His perfectly tailored military uniform, his sharply defined face, and especially the Iron Cross First Class medal on his chest that gleamed coldly under the crystal chandelier, all proclaimed the extraordinary nature of this young man.

"That's... Mrs. von Falkenstein?"

"Could the young man next to her be that playboy? He seems like a completely different person."

"My God, that's an Iron Cross First Class! And he's so young!"

Whispers echoed throughout the hall.

Cecilia was clearly used to being the center of attention. With a polite smile on her face, she took Maureen's arm and slowly entered the room.

As she passed by Morin, she whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear, with a hint of boastful excitement, "See, Fritz. They're all looking at you."

Morin, his back ramrod straight, his hand on the sword at his waist, replied in a low voice, without looking to the side, "No, they're all looking at you. I'm just benefiting from my sister's fame."

Cecilia's smile deepened.

Soon, the host of the party, an elderly nobleman with gray hair but a vigorous spirit, took the initiative to come forward.

“My dearest Cecilia, you are radiant tonight, making my manor shine.”

“You flatter me, Your Excellency,” Cecilia said with a smile and a bow.

The old nobleman turned his gaze to Morin, his eyes filled with undisguised surprise.

"Look who this is, Friedrich! You're like a completely different person!"

Morin exchanged a few polite words with the other party, and then greeted Cecilia and a few other people, most of whom were Cecilia's business partners.

However, the old nobleman's commotion had also attracted the attention of the other officers present.

Soon, several officers dressed in various military uniforms came over with wine glasses.

"Lieutenant Morin, I've long admired your name."

An officer wearing the rank of major spoke first, and his attitude was very enthusiastic.

Morin glanced at the other man's rank and immediately straightened up: "Good morning, sir!"

He also noticed that the lowest-ranking officers present tonight seemed to be majors.

This means that, as the lowest-ranking officer present, he seemed to have to constantly salute everyone first.

“No need to be so formal, Lieutenant Morin, this is a private occasion.”

The major smiled and waved his hand.

"We've all heard that His Highness the Crown Prince has been full of praise for your performance on the Aragon front."

Another colonel also came over, looking at Morin's Iron Cross First Class badge with some envy:

"Lieutenant Morin must be the fastest Saxon soldier to obtain the First Class Iron Cross. It seems the battle for the Kingdom of Aragon is far more brutal than we imagined."

These officers, who had long resided in the rear or were stationed on the empire's homeland, were clearly filled with intense curiosity about the war in distant lands.

Compared to discussing the weather and stocks with nobles and merchants, they were more eager to hear the most authentic battlefield stories from Morin, a firsthand witness.

As a result, a group of officers quickly surrounded Morin.

Surrounded by the crowd, he answered various questions with neither arrogance nor servility.

He didn't exaggerate; he simply presented information that could be made public in plain language.

Even so, the stories of the brutal hand-to-hand combat, the howling cannon fire, and the army's rapid advance to the outskirts of Madrid still stirred the emotions of these officers who had not personally experienced the bloody battle.

Cecilia stood not far away, chatting quietly with several familiar noblewomen.

Her gaze, however, would occasionally drift toward Morin, who was surrounded by officers in the center, her eyes brimming with pride and joy.

“Mrs. Falkenstein, your brother has truly brought you honor,” a lady said enviously.

"Yes, he's not only handsome, but also a war hero with a limitless future."

"You flatter me, you flatter me. This child was just lucky."

Whenever acquaintances praised Morin's bravery and youthful talent, she would always wave her hand modestly, but the smile on her lips, which she could not suppress, betrayed her true feelings.

(End of this chapter)