Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 181 Combat Strength Unknown
General Jean-Claude Fournier, commander of the 9th Infantry Division of the Gallic Army, was riding a tall warhorse, advancing with his division headquarters.

When gunfire erupted from the south of the city, his face was filled with confusion.

As the vanguard of the Third Army, the orders issued by the army headquarters before the battle contained only a few words about the enemy in Charleroi.

"Small Saxon harassment units, well-equipped and possessing automatic weapons."

Size unknown, unit number unknown, commander unknown.

This is practically saying nothing at all.

General Fournier had assumed that once they approached Charleroi, it would be like the previous combat exercises.

Engage the Saxons in a fair battle in the open outside the city.

At that time, he will be able to judge the strength and weakness of the enemy by observing their troop deployment and firepower.

But the result was completely unexpected.

His vanguard reconnaissance troops were like pebbles thrown into the sea, failing to even make a splash.

As soon as they approached the edge of the city, they were shattered by a fierce barrage of fire, and only a few people managed to scramble back.

According to survivors, the enemy was outnumbered but had ridiculously high firepower; all the attacked units reported being suppressed by enemy heavy machine gun positions.

But when his main force pressed forward, those mysterious Saxon soldiers showed no intention of resisting and quickly left in trucks.

All that remained was a pile of spent shell casings; there was no sign of any heavy machine gun positions.
In just ten minutes or so, whose heavy machine gun position could be withdrawn so quickly?
"What kind of tactic is this?" General Fournier frowned and muttered to himself.

"General."

The division chief of staff and several other division staff officers urged their horses forward and rode alongside him, then spoke:

"Judging from the current situation, the Saxons certainly don't have many troops. They dare not engage us in direct combat in the open, so they have all retreated into the city."

"I agree with the Chief of Staff's assessment."

Another staff officer chimed in:
"They are trying to use the city's architecture to offset our numerical advantage. This is a tactic that only the weak would use."

The staff officers' analysis sounded reasonable and aligned with General Fournier's consistent understanding of the war.

In his view, truly elite troops should line up and clash on a vast battlefield, deciding the outcome with courage and discipline.

Hiding in the city and firing snipers?
That's the style of those colonial rebel guerrillas.
"It seems the military may have overestimated these Saxons. Yesterday's cavalry suffered such heavy losses probably due to underestimating the enemy and advancing recklessly."

General Fournier's mind raced as he analyzed the situation, occasionally exchanging a few words with his staff.

Soon, the last trace of doubt in his heart was dispelled.

Since the enemy's numbers are likely small, the rest is simple.

"Give me the order!"

General Fournier had a very loud voice, and many of his colleagues said that in addition to commanding troops and fighting battles, he was also a good candidate for opera singing.

"The artillery regiment will prepare fire on the city's outskirts. After the shelling ends, the entire division will immediately launch a full-scale attack! I want to have lunch at the Charleroi City Hall before lunchtime!"

"Objective: Capture the southern city! Destroy all bridges within the city, completely blocking the Saxons on the north bank of the Samble River!"

As the general gave the order, a large number of messengers rode off on horseback toward the troops on the long attack front.

Immediately afterwards, the 75mm magic artillery regiment began to deploy, and the whistles of officers at all levels rang out along the several-kilometer-long battle line.

Thousands of Gallic soldiers, led by their officers, with bayonets fixed and rifles in neat, dense skirmish lines, began their resolute advance toward the outskirts of Charleroi.

Their faces bore the pride and fervor characteristic of the Gauls, seemingly completely unaware of what kind of battle was about to unfold.

Inside the command post in Charleroi.

Seeing the red unit badges representing Gallic infantry on the system map begin their full-scale advance, Morin took a deep breath and grabbed the MP14 submachine gun that was on the table.

"Battalion Commander, you want this again?"

Neither Manstein nor Kleist were surprised, but they still felt it was not a good idea for their battalion commander to go to the front line as an assault team leader.

"Battalion Commander, I still think you should stay at the battalion headquarters to take unified command."

Kleist, as the battalion adjutant, sighed helplessly but still dutifully offered his advice.

“When street fighting breaks out, every street and every house becomes a battlefield, and the command post can no longer play a significant role.”

Morin checked the submachine gun's magazine and answered without looking up.

"The specific command is nothing more than mobilizing the reserve forces, and I believe you two can do this job well."

"I can make a greater impact by staying on the front lines, can't I?"

Kleist and Manstein were indeed unable to refute this last statement.

In particular, after that night's battle, Manstein had a clear understanding of Morin's outrageous individual combat ability.

After speaking, Morin didn't give the two a chance to continue persuading him, and turned and strode out of the command post.

Manstein and Kleist exchanged a glance, both seeing helplessness in each other's eyes.

However, they also knew that Maureen's decision was right.

Putting aside Morin's combat abilities, well, that's something we can't really ignore.
However, urban warfare was described by Morin and the veterans as chaotic and complex, especially for the 1st Company, which faced the greatest defensive pressure. It was indeed necessary for a commander who could make decisive decisions to be on the front line.

After leaving the temporary battalion headquarters, Morin got into a truck and sped off to the 1st Company's defense zone, which served as the main defensive position.

When he arrived, the soldiers of the 1st Company were making their final preparations for battle. Behind the sandbag bunker at the street corner, the machine gunner was adjusting the firing range of the MG08 heavy machine gun.

The soldiers checked their weapons and ammunition, their faces solemn as a major battle was about to begin.

A soldier who appeared to have served as a temporary altarkeeper in a church before the war was chanting prayers devoutly to a large group of his comrades.

The machine gunners and assault troopers around him knelt on the ground, heads bowed and expressions solemn, as if participating in a sacred ceremony.

They slung light machine guns and submachine guns diagonally over their shoulders or held them in their hands.

Molin curiously went over and heard the 'charlatan' soldier performing his 'prayer' in a melodious and rhythmic tone.

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.

May your gun fire smoothly, and may your will be carried out on the battlefield as it is on the firing range.

We ask that you grant us our ammunition today.

It frees us from jamming, just as it frees us from the weapon that jams us.

They prevented us from encountering malfunctions and saved us from the horrific danger of a barrel explosion.

Because the chamber, the ammunition belt, and the rate of fire are all under your protection, until the magazine is emptied, there is no end to it.

Amen!"

Upon hearing this drastically altered version of the prayer, Morin completely lost his composure.

Is this considered blasphemy?
However, this unique pre-battle ceremony did alleviate the soldiers' tension to some extent.

The soldiers who participated in the ceremony were completely different after they stood up and picked up their weapons.

However, after they saw that Morin was staring at them, they all smiled a little embarrassedly.

The soldier presiding over the ceremony appeared somewhat nervous.

"battalion commander."

"Don't be nervous, everything's fine~"

Morin suppressed a laugh and patted the 'charlatan' soldier hard on the back.

"I suggest you get a small incense burner next time and use it to fumigate these weapons, to appease their machine spirits~"

"Machine Soul?"

At the same time, Klaus and the others arrived. When they saw Morin, who was fully armed and carrying a submachine gun, they felt a huge weight lifted off their shoulders.

He quickly came forward to greet him: "Battalion Commander, why did you come in person?"

"Let's see how your preparations are going. I'll be joining the battle here from now on."

As he spoke, Morin glanced around the position and nodded.

"Well done."

Before the two could exchange more than a few words, cannon fire erupted outside the city.

Everyone instinctively looked up at the southern sky.

It was a Gaulish bombardment.

"boom--!"

The first shell whistled through the air and landed on an open area several hundred meters from the edge of the city, exploding into a huge cloud of mud and black smoke.

This seems to be a signal.

Immediately after the first few shots were fired, a barrage of shells from 36 75mm magic cannons rained down on the southern city of Charleroi.

The earth trembled violently, and the explosions were deafening.

The outermost buildings of the entire city of Charleroi were instantly enveloped in thick smoke and towering flames.

Countless houses collapsed in the explosion, bricks and rubble flew everywhere, and huge craters were blown into the streets.

The observation posts, which were originally located in the outermost buildings, were forced to retreat under the shelling.

The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and dust, making it almost impossible to breathe.

At this point, Morin was still unclear about the Gauls' 75mm magic cannon's technological approach, but judging from the sound of the shelling, its power seemed to be greater than that of ordinary field artillery.

"Miss 75 in this world seems to have a pretty bad temper."

However, in response to artillery fire, the training assault battalion always retreated its soldiers to the second line of defense, leaving only a few of the luckiest companies at the front as observation posts.

Therefore, this 15-minute shelling was more like a large-scale armed parade.

Although a large number of unmanned houses on the outermost edge of the city were destroyed, no substantial damage was caused to the core defense system of the training assault battalion.

As the sound of artillery fire gradually subsided, a silence accompanied by ringing in the ears enveloped the battlefield.

The observation posts that had retreated to the rear peeked out from behind their bunkers, shaking their heads which were still dazed from the shock, and returned to their posts to look out of the city.

Before the smoke of battle had even cleared, on the distant horizon, the torrent of red and blue began to writhe forward once more.

The Gallic infantry attack began.

(End of this chapter)