Heavy machine gun on the flank

Although the soldiers in his platoon had been under his command for less than forty-eight hours, Morin's heart bled when he heard the casualty report.

But he knew this was no time to grieve. After ordering the squads to treat the wounded, he rushed to the edge of the high ground and raised his binoculars again.

Through the slightly blurred lenses, he saw at least a battalion of Royal Army troops advancing toward the high ground in close formation.

He glanced back at his own position. The 1st and 2nd Companies had already been devastated the day before, and the bombardment had only made matters worse.

Countless men had been killed outright by airburst fragments from the Magic Crystal Cannons. Most of the survivors were wounded.

The stretcher teams organized by the company medics were nowhere near enough, and morale across the battalion had hit rock bottom.

Major Thomas and the three company commanders were loudly rallying the others. Urged on by their officers, the soldiers gradually crawled to the edge of the high ground and raised their rifles.

But Morin knew that, in its current state, the 1st Battalion had almost no chance of stopping a battalion-sized charge head-on.

Their only hope was to inflict enough casualties to drive the enemy back in the first wave. Otherwise, they would lose this high ground today.

His gaze swept back and forth across the enemy's line of advance. A bold, reckless idea rapidly took shape in his mind.

"Klaus! Corporal Jonah!" Morin shouted.

"Here!"

"You two, the heavy machine gun team, and everyone left in First and Fourth Squads—come with me!"

He pointed to a slope on the left side of the high ground, where the terrain was more broken.

"We'll swing around the side and hit them hard!"

Platoon sergeant Klaus and Corporal Jonah didn't hesitate. They immediately called for the designated soldiers to follow.

The Vickers Machine Gun team currently had five men. Three of them lifted the assembled gun together and carried it along.

Another took an ammunition box in each hand, while the last man picked up the heavy cooling-water tank.

When they had captured the gun, Morin's men had also scrounged up fewer than five hundred rounds on the farmhouse's second floor.

That wasn't much ammunition for a heavy machine gun meant to provide sustained suppressive fire. Morin had intended to use it sparingly; Vickers ammunition wasn't easy to find.

True, it used the same .303 cartridge as the Royal Army's rifles—the caliber commonly called ".303 British."

But Morin and his men hadn't managed to collect much in the time they had. Now he couldn't worry about that.

"Baumann, Fisher, Miller! Stay here with the rest of the men! Help Captain Hauser and the others hold the front! Keep the enemy occupied until we open fire!"

"Understood, platoon leader!"

After giving the other three corporals their orders, Morin wasted no more time. He led the two squads and the heavy machine gun team quickly down the slope on the left.

They had to move fast and stay hidden.

Fortunately, the rolling slope and crater-pocked ground gave them natural cover.

Their Field Grey uniforms also offered decent concealment on an autumn battlefield thick with gunsmoke—better, at least, than the red trousers worn by the Gauls.

Morin ran at the front, his mind racing. The System Map kept updating before his eyes, plotting the safest, fastest route.

The maneuver was fraught with danger. If the enemy spotted them, his small detachment would be surrounded. There was no telling what would become of them then.

Luckily, the Royal Army's attention was fixed entirely on the defenses at the front of the high ground. No one noticed the small force quietly working its way around to their flank.

A little over a minute later, Morin and the others reached their chosen position.

A shell had blasted a huge depression here, creating a perfect natural machine gun emplacement.

From here, they had a clear view of the long, unguarded flank of the Royal Army's assault force as it struggled up the gentle slope.

As the saying went, "Fire downhill and you can hit anything," especially when the infantry had to make the assault on foot.

Under normal circumstances, a commander would think twice before ordering such an attack.

But the Royal Army was desperate to retake the high ground. Its commander hadn't given it much thought; he had simply ordered the Royal Army's "Black Cattle" to charge first and worry about the rest later...

"Quick! Set up the gun!" Morin ordered the machine gun team in a low voice.

The soldiers swiftly set up the heavy Vickers Machine Gun, while the loader fed in the canvas ammunition belt with less practiced hands.

"Everyone else! Form a perimeter around the gun! Get ready to fight!"

The soldiers spread out and dropped prone, working their bolts. Their dark muzzles pointed toward the advancing Royal Army troops as they watched for any threat that might appear.

Morin lay beside the gun and raised his binoculars.

The Royal Army's first wave had begun its attack.

Just like the Saxony soldiers Morin had seen attack before, the Royal Army troops formed three fairly close ranks and charged toward the crest, shouting as they ran.

Behind those three ranks came another company's soldiers in a tight column.

The front rank of Royal Army soldiers was now less than two hundred meters from the positions held by the 1st Battalion.

Scattered rifle shots rang out from the high ground. The 1st Battalion's soldiers were taking aimed shots, trying to slow the enemy advance.

"Platoon leader, can we fire yet?"

The gunner licked his dry lips, a hint of excitement in his voice.

Though this would be his first time firing the gun, he seemed to already know how much damage an attack from this angle would do.

"Wait..."

Morin kept his voice steady and put a hand on the gunner's shoulder.

"Let them come a little farther. Fire when they can't retreat easily!"

Time seemed to stretch endlessly.

Every second felt like a century.

Morin could hear his own heavy breathing and that of the soldiers beside him.

One hundred and fifty meters...

One hundred and twenty meters...

One hundred meters!

Now!

"Fire!"

Morin slapped the gunner's shoulder.

"Dakka-dakka-dakka-dakka-dakka!"

The heavy Vickers Machine Gun roared, spitting a long tongue of flame.

Hot bullets swept into the Royal Army's unguarded flank like Death's scythe.

The Royal Army soldiers charging uphill never dreamed that such a deadly firing position would suddenly appear off to their side.

They were caught halfway up the slope, with nowhere easy to go. The .303 bullets tore through their tightly packed ranks.

Many soldiers were hit and fell before they could even react.

Because the attack came from the flank, the enemy's advancing ranks looked like a column to the gunner.

He barely had to adjust his aim to bring an entire line of enemy soldiers into his field of fire.

The machine gun's roar and the Royal Army soldiers' screams instantly filled the battlefield.

"Fire, fire! Target their officers first!"

Once the machine gun opened up, Morin shouted the order to the riflemen beside him.

More than twenty rifles fired at once. Accurate rounds from their Gew.98s picked off Royal Army officers trying to find cover or organize a counterattack.

To mark their rank and make them easy for their men to find in battle, Royal Army officers wore uniforms that were clearly different from those of ordinary soldiers.

Silver trim on their black uniforms marked them out even more—and made them ideal targets for Morin and the others...

The Royal Army's entire assault formation collapsed.