The First Battle Began

A quarter of an hour later, with Klaus's help, Morin assembled the entire platoon.

The soldiers checked their weapons and ammunition, shouldered their packs, and silently formed three columns by squad, awaiting their next orders.

During this brief interval, Morin also discovered a new use for the "cheat" in his head.

He found that he could shrink the detailed battlefield map and pin it to the upper-left corner of his vision in a semitransparent form.

It was like playing an RTS or Battlefield, with a minimap he could check in real time.

Although doing this temporarily prevented him from switching to other tabs such as "Intelligence" or "Information," the advantages were obvious.

He could monitor both friendly and enemy movements at any time without worrying that an unexpected event around him would force the entire UI to close.

"Platoon leader, the company's moving."

Klaus's voice brought Morin's attention back to reality.

"Move out."

Morin wasted no words. After giving the simple order, he led his 3rd Platoon toward the other two platoons and company headquarters.

The sun had yet to rise. Only a faint glow showed beneath the horizon, and the woods remained dim.

The soldiers' boots made soft crunching sounds on the dead twigs and fallen leaves, mingling with the metallic clatter of equipment to form the distinctive rhythm of a march.

Before long, they reached the 3rd Company's assembly area.

The company commander, Captain Hauser, stood at the head of the formation, with the other two platoons already formed up behind him.

Morin directed his men to join the rear of the formation quickly.

A tall, stern-faced company sergeant major strode up to Captain Hauser, came to attention, and reported.

"All present, sir!"

"Thank you, sergeant major!"

Hauser nodded, then walked to the front of the company and took his position.

"Company! Dress on the center! Quick march!"

The company sergeant major took his place behind the commander, while several other headquarters officers immediately moved to either side of the formation, repeating the orders and maintaining marching order.

"Left, right, left! Left, right, left..."

Under the officers' and NCOs' commands, the company—nearly two hundred men, excluding its supply train—once again became a long gray snake, moving silently toward its designated attack assembly position.

After marching for roughly ten minutes, the formation halted behind a patch of low bushes.

This was the 3rd Company's holding area, as well as its attack assembly position as the 1st Battalion's reserve.

Through gaps in the bushes, Morin could clearly see the open ground ahead.

The soldiers of the 1st Company had already deployed into three successive skirmish lines, each roughly 150 meters wide... though these differed from what Morin understood a skirmish line to be.

Still, for combat in the waning days of linear tactics, a formation with one or two meters between soldiers was enough to qualify as a skirmish line.

Behind them stood the 2nd Company, formed into a dense company column.

Tasked with rushing into the enemy position once a breach had been opened, the 2nd Company's soldiers had already fixed bayonets to their rifles. The blades reflected pinpricks of cold light in the first glow of dawn.

The entire scene was terrifyingly quiet, with only the wind moaning across the fields.

Morin glanced at the pocket watch Captain Hauser had lent him. Its silver hands were steadily approaching five oh seven.

The moment the appointed time arrived, a piercing whistle tore through the oppressive silence.

A ranging shell streaked across the sky and exploded outside the distant village of San Isidro, sending up a column of black smoke.

On the map in the upper-left corner of Morin's vision, the artillery position icon flashed, and a red arc landed precisely on the village's edge.

A second ranging shell followed, landing closer to the center of the village this time.

Ranging was complete.

The next second, the shriek of shells seemed to fill the entire sky.

The field artillery battalion's twelve FK.96n/A 77mm Field Guns began rapid fire.

Though they were only small-caliber field guns, the combined force of their salvos still displayed terrifying destructive power.

The explosions merged into a continuous roar, and San Isidro was instantly shrouded in smoke and dust.

Earth, stones, and rubble from the houses were hurled high into the air before raining down again.

At that moment, the "god of war" gave its first glimpse of power.

After three rapid salvos, the bombardment stopped abruptly.

A brief, deathly silence fell over the battlefield once more.

Morin could feel the soldiers around him breathing more heavily, and excitement appeared on many of their faces.

To them, such a fierce preparatory bombardment was enough to utterly destroy the fighting spirit of the Aragon peasant soldiers in the village.

The instant the bombardment ended, shrill whistles pierced the battlefield's silence.

It was the signal to attack.

Beyond the bushes, the 1st Company's three skirmish lines began advancing slowly.

The soldiers marched in perfect step, holding their Gew.98 rifles level at their chests, muzzles aimed straight at the smoke-shrouded village ahead.

They did not move quickly. Every step was firm and steady, and their formation showed almost no disorder as they advanced.

The army's discipline was on full display.

Once the 1st Company's skirmish lines had advanced roughly a hundred meters, the 2nd Company behind them began moving as well.

At their officers' commands, the soldiers in the dense column followed at the same pace.

They did not spread out, instead maintaining their close formation, ready to smash into the enemy position with maximum force once the 1st Company opened a breach.

The rising sun cast golden light across the fields, illuminating the spikes on the soldiers' helmets and the rows of coldly gleaming bayonets on their rifles.

A gray assault wave of 360 soldiers surged silently toward San Isidro.

The entire advance was almost eerily quiet.

Apart from the rustle of boots on the ground and the occasional low command from an officer, there was no other sound.

Crouching behind the bushes, Morin felt his heart tighten involuntarily.

On the map in the upper-left corner of his vision, the blue icons representing the 1st Company and the 2nd Company were steadily approaching the gray diamond marking the unknown enemy force.

Everything seemed to be unfolding exactly as Captain Hauser had predicted.

The village's defenders truly seemed to have been terrified by the fierce bombardment, cowering among the ruins without daring to show themselves.

The 1st Company and the 2nd Company soon covered half the distance without encountering any resistance.

Morin even noticed that some of the 3rd Company's soldiers beside him had relaxed and begun talking quietly, as though they thought the battle was already over.

Captain Hauser wore an easy smile as well. He even took out his pipe and tapped it against his boot heel, preparing to enjoy a moment of leisure before victory.

Yet that optimistic mood did not last long.

Just as the 1st Company's foremost skirmish line came within two hundred meters of the village outskirts, a sudden burst of heavy gunfire erupted from the ruins.

Blood spattered along the 1st Company's skirmish line. Several soldiers fell at the sound of the shots, rolling on the ground in agony.

The defenders had recovered their senses and begun fighting back.

The sudden attack caused a slight stir in the advancing ranks, but the NCOs' whistles and shouted reprimands quickly suppressed it.

"Halt! Raise rifles!"

"Aim!"

"Fire a volley!"

At the sergeant major's piercing whistle and the officers' commands, the 1st Company's skirmish lines halted in unison, dropped to one knee, and raised their rifles.

Then they pulled their triggers, firing toward the source of the gunshots.

After a concentrated volley, the fire from the village outskirts noticeably weakened.

"Keep advancing!"

The soldiers rose again and continued charging forward with their rifles leveled.

Halt, aim, fire, charge... the sequence repeated over the next few dozen meters.

Although soldiers continued to fall to enemy bullets, the company's momentum remained largely unaffected.

With the discipline forged by harsh training and the precise volleys of their Gew.98 rifles, they temporarily suppressed the defenders' fire from the village.

The scales of victory still seemed to be tipping toward the Saxons.

But Morin did not relax at all.

His attention was focused entirely on the little map in the upper-left corner of his vision.

Just moments earlier, as the soldiers of the 1st Company and the 2nd Company drew closer, a completely new red icon had lit up without warning on the defensive positions outside San Isidro.

[Aragonese Army - Vickers Machine Gun Position]