When the Machine Gun Opened Fire...

When the red icon popped up on Morin's map with a line of cold explanatory text, he felt his heart skip a beat.

The thing he feared most had finally happened.

The Britannians had clearly supplied the "Royal Army" with weapons, and the latter had deployed a machine gun position in this village on the outskirts of Seville!

"Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!"

A burst of rapid, piercing gunfire rang across the battlefield like the Grim Reaper's chainsaw.

Through the bushes, Morin saw a scene he would never forget.

The foremost skirmish line of the advancing 1st Company looked as though an enormous, invisible scythe had swept through it.

From left to right, soldiers fell one after another. Before the dense hail of bullets, their fragile bodies were no different from stalks of wheat cut down in a field.

Bullets streaked through the ranks faster than the naked eye could follow, tracing lines of deadly fire.

In less than ten seconds, a single machine gun completely erased an entire platoon at the front of the 1st Company from the battlefield.

The gray assault formation, which had seemed unstoppable just moments before, collapsed in an instant.

The surviving soldiers screamed in terror and flattened themselves against the ground, not daring to move, utterly ignoring their officers' hoarse shouts.

But the Vickers Machine Gun did not stop there.

The gunner calmly adjusted his aim, extending the deadly hail into the 1st Company's second and third skirmish lines.

Even the 2nd Company, still behind them in a tight column and not yet committed to battle, became a target.

Against such densely packed formations, the machine gun's killing power reached its full potential.

Every bullet seemed to find its mark.

Company commander Hauser, brimming with confidence only moments earlier, now stood frozen. The smile had vanished from his face, replaced by deathly pallor.

His mouth hung open as though he wanted to say something, but not a word came out.

His reaction did not surprise Morin. He knew that the present Saxon Army was just like the European armies before World War I.

They had yet to recognize how terrifying machine guns were, considering them cumbersome weapons useful only for defense.

That was also why the entire 33rd Infantry Regiment had only one machine gun company equipped with eight MG08 Heavy Machine Guns—and it had not even reached the front yet...

The 1st Company's attack had been utterly crushed.

The surviving soldiers lay on the ground, clutching their heads, not daring to move.

Anyone who tried to stand up and return fire or retreat was immediately caught by that whip of fire and reduced to a mangled corpse.

The 2nd Company following behind had also descended into utter chaos.

The officers leading it blew their whistles desperately, trying to get their troops to spread out or lie down, but under the machine gun position's sweeping fire, the soldiers' discipline was rapidly disintegrating.

Already in a dense formation, the 2nd Company crowded together, unable to advance or retreat, becoming the perfect target for that machine gun.

Bullets poured into the packed crowd like water, every burst claiming several lives.

While everyone else was stunned by the carnage before them, Morin's mind raced, his gaze fixed on the minimap in the upper-left corner.

In front of the red diamond icon representing the [Vickers Machine Gun Position], a red fan-shaped area marking its field of fire covered the entire attack frontage.

The unit markers for the 1st Company and 2nd Company sat squarely inside that fan.

After confirming its approximate location, Morin pulled his officer-issued binoculars from their case and looked in the direction marked on the map.

Sure enough, behind a second-floor window of an unremarkable-looking farmhouse, he spotted flickering muzzle flashes.

Morin was just about to find Captain Hauser and say something when he saw Major Thomas, commander of the 1st Battalion, speaking to messengers at the temporary forward command post on the other side of the bushes.

Immediately afterward, he saw one of the messengers mount a horse and ride toward the rear.

Morin guessed that the man might be going to contact the artillery position and ask for continued fire support.

But even if everything went smoothly, it would take at least ten or fifteen minutes for the shells to arrive.

That was more than enough time for the machine gun and the other defenders to slaughter every man in the 1st Company and 2nd Company exposed in the open.

But Morin soon realized that he apparently had no time to worry about anyone else.

He saw another messenger running toward his own company.

This is bad. They're not about to send in the reserves, are they...?

Morin watched anxiously as the messenger jogged up to Captain Hauser and shouted breathlessly:

"Captain! Orders from Major Thomas! The 3rd Company is to enter the battle immediately and press forward from the front!"

Every officer's expression changed, Morin's included.

How the fuck was that any different from willingly jumping into a meat grinder?

Captain Hauser's face instantly turned a dark, livid red. He grabbed the messenger by the collar.

"Are you sure those were his orders? Has the major gone mad? Can't you see what's happening up there?"

"Y-yes... those were the major's exact words..." The messenger was on the verge of tears.

"Bullshit!" Captain Hauser swore furiously, but he finally released his grip.

Orders were absolute. He could not disobey Major Thomas's command, because doing so could even count as cowardice in the face of the enemy—enough to get him court-martialed and shot.

He took a deep breath, turned around, and faced his men.

His gaze passed over one tense, frightened face after another before finally settling on Morin and the other two platoon commanders.

"You all heard him!" Captain Hauser's voice had grown as heavy as his mood. "Prepare for battle! 3rd Platoon on the left, 1st Platoon in the center, 2nd Platoon on the right... spread out into skirmish lines! Advance with alternating covering fire!"

Having witnessed the disastrous defeat of a dense formation firsthand, he at least refrained from issuing another foolish order to charge in ranks.

Even so, Morin knew this was still suicide.

Until that machine gun was dealt with, any frontal assault was meaningless. And they had no idea how many other enemies remained undiscovered in the village.

Morin's heart sank. He did not want to die here, and even if he had to die, it would not be for this textbook "imperialist state."

Besides, he still had a full eighty men under his command. He could not lead those living, breathing men into a battle doomed to fail.

The problem was that he had no choice.

His only hope was to attack another way and knock out the machine gun position that kept harvesting his comrades' lives.

Just as Captain Hauser was about to blow his whistle to signal the attack, Morin abruptly stepped forward.

"Sir!"

Captain Hauser stopped and turned to look at Morin, his brow deeply furrowed.

"What is it, Second Lieutenant Morin? Are you intending to disobey orders?"

His tone was impatient, even carrying a hint of menace. The disastrous defeat ahead and the uncompromising orders from Battalion Headquarters had already begun to fray his temper.

"No, sir!"

Morin immediately shook his head, making his voice sound as persuasive as possible.

"I request permission to lead the 3rd Platoon around the left flank!"

The proposal stunned the officers and NCOs around him.

"A flanking maneuver?" Captain Hauser repeated, his eyes full of suspicion. "What are you planning?"

"Sir, I saw through my binoculars that the enemy machine gun position is in a two-story farmhouse. Its field of fire is fixed!"

Morin explained rapidly, pointing toward the left side of the battlefield.

"There's a dry riverbed over there, along with a few patches of bushes we can use as natural cover! My platoon can use the terrain to move around to the side of the village and attack the machine gun position from there!"

"Even if we can't knock it out immediately, just drawing their attention would create an opening for the main body of the company to attack!"

Captain Hauser fell silent. He stared hard at Morin, seemingly trying to judge whether this young second lieutenant, fresh out of military academy, was indulging in a wild fantasy.