Battlefield Chow

Once the main force had secured a foothold in the village, the supply wagons from Battalion Headquarters cautiously moved into cover on its outskirts.

Smoke soon rose from the Hf.11 field kitchens of each company.

Morin had eaten nothing but a few pieces of dry bread since yesterday, and he was starving.

So after parting ways with Captain Hauser, he followed the first group of soldiers rotated off the line for a meal to the 3rd Company kitchen wagon, as eager as a hungry wolf.

The Saxon Imperial Army's staple food was black bread, served with thick soup or stew. Every so often, the soldiers also got canned meat.

Several folding tables beside the field kitchen wagon were piled high with loaves of Kommissbrot, the army's specially supplied black bread. Their fresh aroma told Morin they had probably just come out of the oven.

That did not surprise him. He had learned that the 16th Infantry Brigade had a Field Bakery Company, something normally assigned to a division. Its bakers had likely baked the loaves and delivered them to the companies' field kitchens.

Indeed, under normal circumstances, the Field Bakery Company's hundred-odd bakers were chiefly responsible for supplying black bread to an entire division.

Among them were more than ten technical NCOs who had already spent years as professional bakers before joining the army.

Supplying bread for a single infantry brigade was a breeze for a Field Bakery Company capable of producing more than twenty thousand loaves a day.

Morin swallowed as he looked at the bread. Then he noticed a plump cook beside the kitchen wagon slicing something that looked like sausage into a pot.

"Oh, nice. Sausage too..."

Morin's eyes lit up. He knew that the Second German Empi—no, the Saxon Army had several sausage dishes that tasted pretty good!

"Sir, I could've brought your food to you. You didn't have to come in person..."

The orderly beside Morin could not help speaking up when he saw how ravenous his platoon leader looked.

"No, no. I want to eat the moment the food's ready!"

Morin shook his head and took his mess tin from the orderly. Without cutting in line, he joined the soldiers waiting to be served, full of anticipation.

But when he saw the cook ladle slightly viscous, grayish-white soup from a large pot and pair it with two pieces of black bread sturdy enough to serve as armor plates, Morin lost all hope for this world's field rations.

Then he spotted the discarded "sausage" wrapper on the ground and understood.

"Erbwurst. Well, that explains it..."

Not every "sausage" was an actual sausage. The Saxons called most foods packaged in long, thin rolls "sausages."

Erbwurst was one of them, famous in both worlds.

Made from bacon, onions, peas, and dehydrated vegetables, the mixture had nothing to do with what Morin thought of as sausage.

The proper way to eat it was to cut it into thick slices and dissolve them in hot water to make a bowl of thick soup.

Incidentally, in the world Morin had come from, Erbwurst's inventor had eventually sold the patent to a company called Knorr.

That company's best-known product was Bovril...

Still, when someone was starving, the taste of the food hardly mattered.

At least the hot soup offered a little comfort.

Besides, Morin had actually wanted to try Erbwurst before crossing into this world. Unfortunately, Knorr had discontinued the century-old product in 2018.

So he had finally gotten to satisfy that curiosity after traveling through time and space.

After collecting his soup and bread, Morin and the orderly sat on the ground against a tree.

Following the other soldiers' example, he broke the hard black bread into small pieces and soaked them in the soup. Once it had absorbed the broth and softened, he wolfed it down.

Saxon-style bread soup: not bad!

The hot meal finally drove the hunger from Morin's belly.

When lunch was over, Morin and the orderly returned to the 3rd Platoon's position.

Once the platoon's soldiers had taken turns eating, Morin summoned Sergeant Klaus, the four corporals, and the eight squad leaders.

They gathered around him with puzzled looks, thinking he had another combat assignment for them.

Instead, Morin cleared his throat and told them there was nothing urgent. This was a good chance to hold a combat debrief.

The veterans and NCOs stared at one another, baffled. For a moment, none of them understood what he meant.

In their experience, fighting meant obeying orders, winning or losing, then waiting for the next order. They had never heard of sitting down for a meeting after a battle.

Their reaction did not surprise Morin. Rather than explain further, he asked them outright what they thought of the morning's battle and what they felt they could have done better.

That only confused them more, and the mood grew awkward.

It was the first time any of them had been in a meeting like this. Morin was also their newly appointed commander, so no one dared speak first.

At last, a young squad leader who had charged at the front with Morin during the assault on the farmhouse spoke hesitantly.

"Sir... I... I think it took more out of us than I expected."

The young squad leader scratched his head, looking embarrassed.

"Especially when we circled around through the riverbed. We sprinted several hundred meters over rough ground, and by the time we reached the farmhouse wall, several of my men were out of breath."

Morin nodded approvingly.

"Well said. Physical fitness is the foundation of every tactic."

Morin was relieved that someone had responded, and with a worthwhile point at that.

"Judging by our current training schedule and rations, fitness really is a weak spot... I'll remember that and do my best to account for everyone's stamina when assigning tasks from now on."

Once someone had broken the ice, the others relaxed and began chiming in.

"Sir, having us advance in separate squads really did help us avoid enemy fire. It made it harder for them to wipe us all out at once! But once the guns start firing and the men spread out, they're hard to control. Sometimes we can't even hear orders."

A corporal raised his own concern.

Another squad leader agreed. "Right. Especially when we're away from the main force and can't see you. It's hard to feel sure of ourselves when we don't know what to do next."

To Morin, all those problems came down to one thing: too little relevant training.

"These tactics are new, so it's normal that you aren't used to them... After we've done this a few more times and learned to work together, things will improve."

He explained patiently, while privately marveling at the Saxon Empire's system of mission command. It suited him perfectly.

Superiors set the objective. As long as their subordinates did not violate military law, almost no one interfered with how they achieved it.

In his previous life, the famous stormtrooper tactics had been developed by frontline officers under just such a system.

It gave Morin enormous freedom of command. It was also the main reason Captain Hauser had ultimately agreed to let him take a platoon out on its own that morning.

The combat debrief lasted about half an hour, and the discussion grew livelier as it went on.

At the end, Morin made a point of telling the eight squad leaders to find time to talk with their men and hear what they thought and what difficulties they faced.

After everyone else had left, Platoon Sergeant Klaus stayed behind.

The experienced veteran looked at Morin with genuine admiration.

"You've opened my eyes today, sir," Klaus said sincerely. "Since last night, I've learned so much from you that I'd never even encountered before!"

"You're too kind, Sergeant Klaus. I'm just sharing some of my experience in the hope that it'll reduce our casualties in battle..."

Building a closer relationship with the platoon sergeant, who commanded great respect among the men, was good for Morin too. It meant he had taken another step toward gaining firm control of the unit.

The two were still chatting when a messenger from Battalion Headquarters came jogging over.

"Second Lieutenant Morin! Major Thomas wants to see you!"