As a former military cadet, Morin had studied military history at the academy before transmigrating.
When covering the evolution of infantry offensives, his instructor had placed particular emphasis on the battles of the early First World War.
It had been an awkward, brutal period for infantry.
At the time, infantry forces around the world still maintained the tradition of fighting in close formations. Although, unlike the earlier era of line infantry, the spacing between soldiers had increased to one or two meters, to Morin, it still amounted to lining up to be shot.
That only began to change after machine guns took the stage and ruthlessly reaped countless soldiers' lives.
The infantry in the world Morin had transmigrated into were clearly in that same "awkward period."
Worse still, this world apparently had things called "magic" and "magitech," which posed an equally grave threat to infantrymen stepping onto the battlefield in flesh and blood.
Now Morin was genuinely starting to panic. He knew perfectly well that machine-gun bullets treated everyone equally on the battlefield. Officer or ordinary grunt, anyone caught in their fire would be cut down like wheat...
He forced his expression under control, making sure he still looked as "valiant" as a soldier of Saxony should, then ventured a question:
"Company commander, do we know roughly how the enemy forces are deployed in the village we're attacking?"
At Morin's question, Captain Hauser gave him a look that said, "Good, I knew you'd ask that."
"Battalion Headquarters has already sent scouts around the outskirts of the village."
Captain Hauser drew a circle around the village on the map with the tip of his pencil.
"What we can confirm is that Aragon's 'Royal Army' is already stationed there. But the scouts didn't get too close, since we didn't want to alert them, so we still don't know their exact numbers."
Another platoon leader, a taciturn lieutenant, spoke up. "Sir, will there be a preparatory bombardment?"
"Of course."
Company Commander Hauser nodded, his tone carrying the easy confidence of someone stating the obvious.
"One battalion from the brigade's artillery regiment will fire three rapid salvos at the village before the attack begins. That'll be enough to scare those 'Royal Army' soldiers out of their wits."
At that, Captain Hauser took a pocket watch from his pocket and addressed the three platoon leaders. "It's now four thirty-seven. The attack will begin at precisely five oh-seven. Go back and make your preparations."
The brief operational meeting ended there, and the other two platoon leaders turned to leave.
Before Morin could leave, Hauser made a point of coming over and giving his shoulder a firm pat.
"I know you came straight to the front after graduating from the academy. It's perfectly normal to be nervous before your first taste of combat."
Hauser lowered his voice a little, with the concern of a veteran looking out for a newcomer.
"You don't seem to have a pocket watch or a wristwatch. That won't do. As an officer, you must have a watch to keep track of the time."
The company commander's words finally made Morin realize why he had kept feeling as though something was missing.
Yes, the original owner of this body's pocket watch had been confiscated when he was captured.
There had been no time to look for it after his rescue, so apart from the "system interface," Morin really had nothing on him that could tell the time.
As Captain Hauser spoke, he summoned his orderly and had him fetch a cloth bundle from his luggage.
"This is my old pocket watch. My wife gave me a new one before we set out, so this one's sitting idle for now. Here... take it and use it."
"Huh? Company commander, isn't this too valuable...?"
Morin looked at the cloth bundle being offered to him, caught off guard. In this era, a pocket watch was still something of a luxury.
"Just take it! I don't want you botching things because you can't keep track of the time!"
Without giving him any room to refuse, Captain Hauser thrust the bundle into Morin's hands, then continued:
"Relax, Morin... those 'Royal Army' troops in the village are mostly peasants conscripted against their will. Their fighting spirit and training are woefully lacking!
"In all likelihood, one charge by the 1st Company and 2nd Company will end the battle. We reserves won't even get a turn."
"Let's hope you're right, company commander."
"Mm-hm. Go back and get your troops ready!"
"Yes, sir!"
Morin saluted Hauser, then turned and walked back to his platoon's resting area.
He knew perfectly well that Captain Hauser's last remarks were half reassurance and half underestimation of the enemy.
But that attitude seemed widespread in Saxony's army. They had an almost blind confidence in their own fighting strength, coupled with utter contempt for the enemy before them.
When things went smoothly, that mindset meant soaring morale. But once the battle turned against them, it could lead to a catastrophic rout.
Morin soon returned to his troops' resting area and found Platoon Sergeant Klaus inspecting the soldiers' equipment.
"Sergeant Klaus, the attack orders are in. We launch in about half an hour."
Klaus's stern face betrayed no emotion. Only his hands paused briefly in their work.
"Yes, sir," he replied in a low voice. "I'll have the squad leaders carry out their final checks and make sure the men are in the best possible condition."
The experienced veteran knew full well that this unit was about to face its first bloody battle on foreign soil.
"Rest assured, sir. I'll do everything I can to help you command the troops!"
Klaus added that assurance, easing Morin's nerves a little.
After speaking with Klaus, Morin found a reasonably dry patch of sloping ground and sat down, leaning against a thick tree trunk.
The soldiers around him had stopped talking. All that remained in the woods was the faint clatter of weapons and equipment, and the sound of restrained breathing.
He closed his eyes, and the darkness before him was immediately replaced by the familiar UI. The enormous map unfolded once more.
Morin tried adjusting the map's zoom and soon found the blue unit markers representing the three battalions of the 33rd Infantry Regiment. The 1st Battalion's marker stood at the very front of the regiment.
At his mental command, the map zoomed in further. The 1st Battalion's marker resolved into three smaller icons representing its infantry companies, along with icons for Battalion Headquarters and the battalion's Supply Train.
He could even clearly see the little icons representing the 1st Company's two supply wagons, parked with the Battalion Baggage Train in a relatively safe position to the rear.
This bird's-eye view of the entire situation did much to settle his troubled mind.
Then he slowly shifted his view toward the target of this attack—the village of San Isidro.
A translucent shadow covered the village. This was presumably the so-called "fog of war."
Unlike the friendly unit markers, which updated in real time, enemy markers apparently appeared only after friendly units had spotted them.
At that moment, there was only a lone gray diamond icon in the center of the village, labeled [Aragonese Army unit (size unknown) (armament unknown)].
That confirmed Captain Hauser's account. The scouts really had only taken a look from a distance and gathered no useful intelligence.
Morin tried selecting the diamond icon with his mind, and the system displayed the message [Insufficient information. Unable to analyze].
Another detail on the map caught his attention.
Three kilometers behind their assembly area for the attack, an artillery position icon had already lit up.
He zoomed in and could see that it represented an artillery battalion belonging to the brigade's artillery regiment.
When Morin focused his mind on the artillery battalion's icon, a series of details quickly appeared.
[2nd Field Artillery Battalion, 28th Field Artillery Regiment] [FK.96n/A 77mm Field Gun × 12]
When Morin saw that these 77mm field guns had a maximum range of 5,500 meters, he understood why the artillery position was so far forward.
These were not howitzers firing in high arcs, but close-range support guns. Though their range and power fell well short of the former, they made up for it with greater mobility and flexibility...
Several faint parabolic lines extended from the icon, their endpoints covering most of the southeastern part of San Isidro.
But that coverage area... seemed far too large.
This was nothing like the precision fire strikes Morin was familiar with. It looked more like blanket fire over a designated area. Its main purpose probably was exactly what Captain Hauser had said: suppressing the enemy.
"All right, then. Let's hope it really goes the way Captain Hauser said, and the enemy runs scared as soon as the guns start firing..."
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