Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 212 The Somme River in the Opposite Direction

2 kilometers north of Amiens, Koise village.

The villagers have been living in fear since yesterday.

First, a large number of Brittany's allied troops passed through the town from north to south, heading towards Amiens. They looked like they had suffered a defeat, looking disheveled and demoralized.

Immediately afterwards, news that the Saxons were about to attack spread like wildfire throughout the village.

Since 80 percent of the young and middle-aged men in the village have been conscripted into the army and sent to the front lines, the remaining people in this small village are mostly women, children, and elderly people.

The winter wheat planted last October should have been harvested in July or August, but due to a severe shortage of labor, the harvesting work was already facing a manpower shortage.

Now every household in this village is worried about how to get through the winter. These days, they are discussing whether several families should join together and help each other finish the work in the fields.

Now, hearing that the legendary, barbaric Saxons are about to attack, the villagers are extremely nervous.

At noon on August 22, an elderly farmer who was exempt from military service because he was over seventy years old staggered back to the village, his face filled with panic.

He loudly told everyone that he had seen the Saxon army with his own eyes; they were riding in those iron carts that didn't need horses and had already reached the outskirts of the village.

The news caused even more panic among the villagers. People rushed home, locked their doors and windows, and frantically hid their meager food supplies in cellars or holes in walls.

Strangely, they hid in their homes trembling for half a day, but the Saxons never came into the village to break down their doors and rob them.

After the old farmer who had previously reported the news mustered up his courage and secretly slipped out to take another look, he returned to tell everyone that the Saxons who had arrived by truck did not seem to have any intention of entering the village.

They seemed to have bypassed the village and headed in another direction; it's unclear what they were doing.

Upon hearing this, the village chief immediately planned to set off for Amiens to report the appearance of the Saxons to the city's garrison.

But as soon as he stepped out, he was held back by several villagers.

Everyone was afraid that his actions would anger the barbarians from the north outside the village. If they were displeased and came into the village to massacre them, then everything would be over.

Meanwhile, Morin, hiding in a grove of trees near the fields by the village of Coise, was looking toward Amiens through binoculars.

He looked at the vast expanse of farmland stretching before him, and the faint outline of Amiens in the distance, and couldn't help but let out a long sigh.

He sighed, not because he was worried that his whereabouts might be exposed by the villagers in the nearby village.

On this vast plain, a convoy of five trucks, no matter how small, is conspicuous and it is almost inevitable that it will be seen by nearby civilians.

Moreover, according to his observations, these small towns currently have no wired telegraph lines leading to Amiens—or rather, at this time, wired telegraph lines were only between cities.

In these small villages outside the city, long-distance communication relies entirely on the regular visits of postmen.

Even if the village chief was determined to deliver the message, by the time he managed to get it on foot, his main force would probably have already reached the outskirts of Amiens.

Morin sighed mainly because he now had to admit that the vast plains along the Somme River were a hellish experience for the attacking side.

With the defenders having already established defensive positions, the attackers have virtually no terrain to use for cover or concealment during their attack.

Looking out from here, all you can see is flat land.

Therefore, he is not at all surprised that in the famous Battle of the Somme in another world, the commanders of the 'British' were able to send tens of thousands of people to their deaths in a single day.

Launching a mass assault on such open ground is no different from firing squads; it's simply handing over the heads of the machine gunners on the other side.

Even worse, in this world, on the banks of the Somme, the roles of attacker and defender have been reversed.

Now the Britannians were defending their positions along the Somme, while the Saxons had to grit their teeth and launch an attack on the Britannians' carefully constructed fortifications.

Since the battle of Alas ended, Morin's training assault battalion and the entire 'assault combat group' have barely had any rest and have been relentlessly chasing after the Brittany Expeditionary Force.

However, the expeditionary force commanded by John French was indeed well-organized in its retreat.

In addition, their systematic destruction of roads and bridges along the way greatly slowed down the Saxon army's pursuit.

Even the training assault battalion, which possessed a large number of trucks and horse-drawn carriages and had a mobility far exceeding that of ordinary infantry, was severely affected in terms of assault speed.

After a half-day and a night of pursuit, the training assault battalion only managed to catch two straggling Britannian infantry companies.

Although both small-scale battles were fought very easily, thanks to Morin's reliance on the system's minimap and the convoy's mobility to cut off the enemy's retreat, these battles were fought with great ease.

Only a few of their own men suffered minor injuries, and they also captured more than two hundred soldiers of the Brittany expeditionary force.

But Morin knew very well that such a minor loss was nothing to the main force of the Brittany expeditionary force and would not have any substantial impact.

So the worst-case scenario he feared ultimately came to pass.

The main force of the expeditionary force successfully retreated to Amiens.

After the pursuit operation ended, the training commando battalion set up a temporary camp about nine kilometers from Amiens to rest.

Meanwhile, Morin couldn't stay idle. He, along with his staff officer Manstein and a platoon from the 1st Company, managed to gather a total of five trucks and two 'Saxon-style Tajon trucks'.

They then formed a small reconnaissance team and made their way to the vicinity of the village.

After confirming that no news would be coming from here in the short term, Morin took out a leather telescope case that had been seized from the body of a Brittany officer and took out a brass monocular telescope from it.

He discovered that the monocular telescopes used by the Britannians, although having a smaller field of view than the binoculars issued to the Saxon army, had an exceptionally high magnification, allowing them to see farther and more clearly.

Through the telescope, the spire of Amiens Cathedral, one of the pinnacles of Gothic architecture, was now clearly visible.

On the outskirts of northern Amiens, one could also see the basic defensive positions hastily but methodically constructed by the expeditionary force. Even through the blurry images in his binoculars, Morin could easily discern that the Britannian positions here were far more complete and robust than the makeshift fortifications they had in Arras.

The trenches were dug deeper and reinforced with sandbags. Some machine gun emplacements made of large amounts of sandbags could even be seen.

However, the light-colored sandbags they chose made these machine gun emplacements exceptionally conspicuous.
This defensive position clearly couldn't have been built in just a day or two.

So Morin knew that his previous judgment was completely correct; the Britannians never intended to fight them to the death in Arras from the beginning.

Moreover, if he were in the position of the expeditionary force commander, he would also choose to organize the defense in Amiens, which has the Somme River as a natural barrier, rather than wasting precious troops on defending Alas.

After surveying the perimeter and noting down several suspicious locations that looked like junctions between positions in his notebook, Morin took five brand-new bicycles from the trailer of a truck.

Then, he called on Manstein and three veterans from the 1st Company who were both skilled marksmen and daring enough, and together they rode their bikes to continue their journey toward Amiens.

Manstein was actually a little nervous when he received the brand-new bicycle.

Because he originally thought that Morin's so-called "close reconnaissance" would at most be like what they were doing now, hiding in the woods a kilometer or two away from Amiens, taking a few glances from afar with binoculars, and drawing a rough sketch.

After all, further ahead lay open ground, where they could easily run into a Britannian patrol.

But who knew that Maureen had already prepared bicycles in the truck, and it seemed he was planning to go deeper into the area.

"Commander, should we go any further?" Manstein asked uncertainly, holding onto his bicycle.

"Of course~"

Morin hopped on his bicycle, adjusted the seat, and answered matter-of-factly:
"What can you see clearly from this distance? At most, you can only see a general outline. If you want to know where they hid the machine guns and what the specific structure of the position is like, how can you do it without getting up close?"

Manstein was well aware that tens of thousands of Britannian expeditionary troops were stationed inside and outside Amiens.

So after he got on his bicycle, he was still a little uneasy, and his palms were slightly sweaty.

If they were discovered, a cavalry unit would charge straight at them, and their few men plus two horse-drawn machine guns would be no match for them.

However, when he saw Morin and the other three veterans from the 1st Company, his tension dissipated considerably.

The four men looked as relaxed as if they were out for a weekend bike ride, showing no sign of tension about being in enemy territory.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant."

A veteran from the 1st Platoon of the 1st Company grinned and slowed his pace slightly to follow Manstein:

"The battalion commander has always acted with great discretion. The fact that he dares to lead us forward further means he is absolutely confident!"

“That’s right, Lieutenant. When has our battalion commander ever made a mistake while leading the team?” another soldier chimed in.

Looking at their calm demeanor, Manstein also felt that they made sense.

Yes, he had already joined the Training Assault Battalion, a renowned elite unit throughout the army, and had even followed Morin from the armored airship directly into the heavily guarded Liège fortress.
Having experienced those near-death situations, what am I afraid of in this little situation?
With that thought in mind, Manstein took a deep breath, his eyes hardening.

The five-person team rode bicycles silently along the country lanes toward the expeditionary force's defenses.

Manstein didn't know how Morin did it either.
Anyway, they kept stopping and starting along the way, and several times, thanks to Morin's advance warning, they managed to hide in the roadside ditches or bushes, thus perfectly avoiding several patrolling Brittany cavalry squads.

The thrill of brushing past the enemy still made Manstein's heart beat extremely fast, even though he was a seasoned veteran.

Finally, led by Morin, they quietly made their way through the enemy's front lines to a place that was only five or six hundred meters away.

This is a wheat field that should have just been half-harvested, with the golden stubble glistening in the sunlight.

Although the view was wide open, the dense stubble of wheat could still effectively conceal their figures and bicycles if they lay down.

"Alright, let's stop here. It's too dangerous to go any further," Morin said in a low voice as he stopped the car.

He had the others lay down and hide the bicycles, and then he and Manstein removed their pointed helmets, which were easily exposed in the sunlight, and crawled to the edge of the wheat field.

Since the ideal helmet for Morin is said to still be designed and finalized at the rear, the training camp has started to make some 'minor modifications' to the pointed helmet in the past two days - removing the top point.

After all, this thing is really useless and is easily exposed due to its reflective properties.

The two men each raised a pair of binoculars and began to carefully observe the enemy positions ahead.

"Manstein, I've got it."

While observing, Morin acted like a teacher, giving Manstein on-the-spot instruction.

"When conducting this kind of close-range reconnaissance, the distance must be close enough, otherwise what you see will be blurry and have no practical value."

"Moreover, on such a vast plain, concealment is paramount. You must lie down or find a good hiding place to blend your body into the surrounding environment."

"Also, never wear anything that is reflective, including pointed helmets. These things are too easy to spot in the sun, making you a sitting duck."

Manstein nodded repeatedly as he listened; these were things that couldn't be learned from books, but were real battlefield experiences.

"But Battalion Commander, is it really necessary for us to take such a big risk and move to such a close position for reconnaissance?"

Manstein, still somewhat puzzled, asked:
"Can't the artillery observers and aerial reconnaissance personnel in the rear also provide intelligence?"

Hearing Manstein's question, Maureen put down his binoculars, turned to look at him, and asked in return:
"Manstein, I ask you, why did our training assault battalion's previous offensive battles go so smoothly? Why were we always able to break through the enemy's defenses so quickly?"

(End of this chapter)