Don't Worry, the Enemy Will Break at the First Charge!

Before crossing over, Morin had been a military academy cadet, and he had taken classes on military history.

When they covered the evolution of infantry assaults, his instructor had emphasized the fighting in the early days of World War I.

It had been an awkward and brutal period for infantry.

Infantry in every country still fought in dense formations. Soldiers stood one or two meters apart, wider than in the earlier age of line infantry, but to Morin, it was still a firing squad with extra steps.

That only began to change after machine guns arrived on the battlefield and ruthlessly cut down vast numbers of soldiers.

And the infantry in this world, Morin realized, seemed to be in that very same awkward period.

Worse, this world apparently had "magic" and "magitech," both of which posed enormous threats to infantry who went into battle in the flesh.

Now Morin was genuinely rattled. He knew machine-gun bullets treated everyone equally. Officer or common soldier, anyone caught in their sweep would be mown down like wheat...

He forced his expression under control, making sure he still looked as "brave" as a Saxon soldier should, then ventured a question:

"Captain, do we know roughly how many enemy troops are stationed in the village we're attacking?"

At Morin's question, a look crossed Captain Hauser's face that said, Good. I knew you'd ask.

"Battalion Headquarters sent scouts around the outskirts of the village."

Captain Hauser used a pencil stub to draw a circle around the village on the map.

"We can confirm that Aragon's Royal Army has troops stationed inside. But the scouts didn't get too close for fear of alerting them, so we don't know the exact numbers."

Another lieutenant, a quiet platoon leader, added, "Sir, will there be an artillery bombardment beforehand?"

"Of course."

Captain Hauser nodded, his confidence suggesting it went without saying.

"A battalion from the brigade's artillery regiment will fire three rapid salvos on the village before the assault. That should scare the wits out of those Royal Army soldiers."

With that, Captain Hauser pulled a pocket watch from his coat and told the three platoon leaders, "It's four thirty-seven now. The attack begins at five oh-seven sharp. Go back and get ready."

The impromptu briefing ended, and the other two platoon leaders turned to leave.

Before Morin could go, Hauser walked over and gave his shoulder a firm pat.

"I know you came straight to the front after graduating from the academy. It's only natural to be nervous before your first real battle."

Hauser lowered his voice, speaking with the concern of a veteran for someone younger.

"I notice you don't have a pocket watch or a wristwatch. That won't do. An officer needs a watch to keep track of the time."

Only then did Morin realize what he had felt was missing.

Yes, the original owner of this body had had his pocket watch taken when he was captured.

There had been no time to look for it after his rescue, so apart from the "system interface," Morin had no way to tell the time.

As Hauser spoke, he called over his orderly and had him fetch a cloth-wrapped bundle from his luggage.

"This is the pocket watch I used to carry. My wife gave me a new one before I left, though, so this one's just sitting around. Here... use it for now."

"Huh? Captain, this is too valuable..."

Morin looked at the bundle Hauser held out, surprised. A pocket watch was still something of a luxury in this era.

"If I say take it, take it! I don't want you missing your cue because you can't keep track of the time!"

Without giving Morin a chance to refuse, Captain Hauser pressed the bundle into his hand and went on:

"Relax, Morin... Most of those Royal Army soldiers in the village are farmers who were forced into service. They're short on both fighting spirit and training!

"Chances are the battle will be over after one charge from 1st Company and 2nd Company. Our reserve won't even get a turn."

"I hope you're right, Captain."

"Mm. Go get your men ready!"

"Yes, sir!"

Morin saluted Hauser, then headed back to his platoon's rest area.

He knew perfectly well that Hauser's last words were half reassurance and half underestimating the enemy.

That attitude seemed common throughout the Saxon army. They had an almost blind faith in their own fighting ability and held the enemy before them in utter contempt.

When things went their way, that mindset made for high morale. But if the battle turned against them, it could become a disastrous rout.

Morin soon reached his unit's rest area and found Sergeant Klaus checking the soldiers' equipment.

"Sergeant Klaus, the attack order's come down. We move in about half an hour."

Nothing changed on Klaus's stern face, though his hands paused for a moment.

"Yes, sir," he replied in a deep voice. "I'll have the squad leaders make their final checks and ensure the men are ready."

The experienced veteran knew this unit was about to face its first bloody battle on foreign soil.

"You can count on me to help you command the men, sir!" Klaus added, and Morin felt a little steadier.

After speaking with Klaus, Morin found a fairly dry patch of sloping ground and sat down with his back against a thick tree trunk.

The soldiers around him had stopped talking. Only the faint clink of weapons and gear, and the sound of restrained breathing, remained in the woods.

He closed his eyes, and the familiar UI immediately replaced the darkness before him. The vast map unfolded again.

Morin tried zooming in and soon found the blue unit markers for the 33rd Infantry Regiment's three battalions. The marker for the 1st Battalion stood at the very front of the regiment.

At his will, the map zoomed in further. The 1st Battalion's marker resolved into three smaller icons for its infantry companies, along with icons for Battalion Headquarters and the Battalion Baggage Train.

He could even make out the tiny icons for 1st Company's two supply wagons, safely positioned in the rear with the Battalion Baggage Train.

Being able to survey the whole battlefield from above did much to calm his racing thoughts.

Then he slowly shifted his view to their objective: the village of San Isidro.

A translucent shadow covered the village. That must have been the "fog of war."

Unlike the live markers for friendly units, enemy markers seemed to appear only after friendly forces spotted them.

At the center of the village sat a lone gray diamond icon labeled [Aragonese Army unit (size unknown) (armament unknown)].

That confirmed what Captain Hauser had said. The scouts had only looked from a distance and gathered no useful intelligence.

Morin tried selecting the diamond with his mind, but the system displayed a message: [Insufficient information. Unable to analyze.]

Another detail on the map caught his attention.

Three kilometers behind their assembly area, an artillery position icon had lit up.

He zoomed in and saw that it marked an artillery battalion from the brigade's artillery regiment.

When Morin focused on the battalion's icon, a series of details appeared.

[2nd Field Artillery Battalion, 28th Field Artillery Regiment]

[FK 96 n.A. 77 mm field gun × 12]

When Morin saw that the 77 mm field guns had a maximum range of 5,500 meters, he understood why the artillery position was so far forward.

These weren't howitzers that lobbed shells in high arcs, but close-support guns. Their range and power fell well short of howitzers, but they were more mobile and flexible...

Several faint arcs extended from the icon, their endpoints covering most of the area southeast of San Isidro.

But that coverage area... wasn't it a little too wide?

This wasn't the kind of precision strike Morin knew. It was more like saturating an area with fire. Its main purpose probably was exactly what Captain Hauser had said: to suppress the enemy.

Well, here's hoping Captain Hauser's right, and the enemy runs the moment the guns start firing...