Imperial Elite

Chapter 13 Ugly Guy

Which carries more weight: a leave slip issued at the division level or a transfer order from the Expeditionary Force Headquarters? This is a question that hardly needs to be considered.

At this moment, Joe's only question was, why me? Why the heavy machine gun regiment?

How did I, a corporal in an engineer unit, become a second lieutenant in a heavy machine gun regiment?

I'm not being modest...

When Joe saw the transfer order, he had a lot to say, but since even the messenger had run away, there was no one around Joe, so naturally no one could listen to Joe's doubts and complaints.

So Joe could only put away the transfer and promotion orders signed by Marshal Haig and head towards the camp where he hadn't even had a chance to rest.

Although Joe had been eyeing the Teutonic water-cooled heavy machine guns during the previous battles.

However, this does not mean that the Bunitans did not have heavy machine guns. In fact, the Bunitans not only had light machine guns, which did not give Joe any confidence, but were convenient for attacking.

It was also equipped with a large number of water-cooled heavy machine guns.

However, the higher-ups felt that the water-cooled machine gun was too expensive and heavy to be issued to frontline combat companies, so it should be kept at the battalion level and a machine gun regiment should be established to operate these expensive and powerful weapons.

The machine gun regiment was already equipped with water-cooled heavy machine guns. Joe didn't even dare to imagine what the heavy machine gun regiment was equipped with, given how powerful these weapons were.

But even if this heavy machine gun regiment had the best equipment, they were still rolling around in the mud on the front lines, while Joe just wanted to go home.

Looking at the transfer order in his hand, Qiao glanced back at the military police behind him, wondering if he should go back and discuss with them whether he could get them to arrest him.

He had committed the heinous act of treating others to drinks, so how could they let him go so easily? They should just arrest him, strip him of his military status, and send him back to his home country.

However, recalling the somewhat obsequious attitude of the military police major who escorted him out, Joe felt that the chances of these military police arresting him and taking him back were slim.

After glancing at the transfer order in his hand, signed by Marshal Haig, Joe sighed and walked back to the camp to start packing.

Whatever the situation, Joe had to go and report it before he would know.

After all, the transfer order has been issued, and if I can't get there on time, I might be considered a deserter.

Although desertion will also get you arrested by the military police, compared to the heinous crime of inviting someone for drinks that could lead to arrest and imprisonment, desertion is obviously a minor offense. You can just be more careful in the future.

Not wanting to ruin his career yet, Joe decided to report to his new unit first and see what this so-called heavy machine gun regiment was all about.

The thought of leaving the engineering corps brought Joe a mix of relief and reluctance. While he was relieved that he wouldn't have to wield an entrenching tool to repair planets anymore, he also felt a pang of sadness at the thought of those brats who used to mooch off him.

After all, this is wartime, and a farewell could be a final goodbye.

So before returning to camp, Joe went to the bar again to buy some alcohol to take back to those brats.

Just as Joe was heading to the bar, Major General Parker, who had just returned to headquarters by car, received a transfer order.

The Expeditionary Forces General Headquarters requested that Joe Harrison, a combat hero of the 32nd Infantry Division, be transferred to the newly formed Heavy Machine Gun Regiment.

Under normal circumstances, if Major General Parker received such a transfer order, he would inevitably grumble to his superiors, saying things like, "Joe is the pillar of our morale. Without him, the boys on the front lines wouldn't know how to fight."

Although Joe is only a corporal, he is my dearest friend and family, so...

Need more money!
At least twenty heavy machine guns, or forget it!

However, since Joe's mental state was not very stable at the moment, Major General Parker took the transfer order and signed his name on it.

With a sense of relief, he handed the transfer order to his adjutant.

"Now, immediately, have the engineering battalion send Joe over. We can't wait a moment longer."

After his adjutant took the documents to carry out the orders, Major General Parker finally breathed a long sigh of relief; the bomb had finally been delivered.

As for what might happen to the mentally unstable Joe after he arrives at his new unit, whether he dies or not, let the commander of the heavy machine gun regiment worry about that!
Joe returned to camp with a few bottles of liquor and received a warm welcome from the rascals.

Although those brats drank the most and fought the hardest back then, for some reason, they are now all squatting in the camp, completely unharmed.

Upon seeing Joe return, these rascals immediately exclaimed, "Boss! You're finally back! If you hadn't come back, we were all preparing to dig a tunnel to rescue you!"

Seeing that these brats hadn't put away their tools, but instead left them in the tent like entrenching tools, Qiao decided to believe them for now.

But these brats all planned to break him out of prison, and Joe found it hard to bring up the idea of ​​being transferred.

Just as Qiao was pondering how to address these brats, the deputy company commander lifted the tent flap and walked in.

"You're back. What are you standing there for? Hurry up and pack your things and leave."

"what?"

Upon hearing the deputy company commander's words, the boys first looked at him in shock, then turned their questioning gazes to Qiao.

Under the watchful eyes of the brats, Joe gave an embarrassed smile.

"Um, I've received my transfer order. I'm being transferred from the engineer unit to the machine gun regiment."

Upon hearing that Joe was leaving, the boys burst into tears on the spot.

These rascals all cried out, "Boss, you can't leave! Boss! What are we going to do if you leave? We won't drink this anymore, we'll pay for our own drinks from now on, please don't leave!"

But an order is an order. Joe, who had nothing to pack, said goodbye to the brats one by one and made an appointment with them to meet at the bar of the Ritz Hotel in London on the third Wednesday after the war ended. The first to arrive would wait for everyone.

Joe picked up his backpack and stepped out of the tent.

The deputy company commander didn't say much, patted Joe on the shoulder, and escorted him to the outside of the camp.

After finishing his service in the engineering corps, Joe didn't report to the so-called heavy machine gun regiment until it was dark.

Unfortunately, Albert was already quite chaotic as a logistical hub, a scene of vibrant life and burgeoning activity, with troop groups passing through to the Somme and large numbers of wounded personnel being evacuated from the front lines.

Add to that the never-ending supply convoys, and apart from a few messengers and officers, almost no one knew exactly how many troops were near Albert, or where they were stationed.

In addition, this heavy machine gun regiment was stationed in a particularly well-hidden location.

Most of the troops were stationed in open areas near Albert, as close to the town as possible.

This would make their living conditions more comfortable and convenient, and would also reduce the effort required for moving ammunition and supplies.

However, this heavy machine gun regiment not only did not set up camp near the town, but its camp was even located in a forest, which clearly indicated that it was not a proper military unit.

However, after Joe, carrying his heavy backpack and having walked almost circling Albert several times, finally found the unit after much hardship, the impeccably dressed guard at the entrance, who looked like a royal guard standing at the palace gate, glanced at Joe's transfer order and then said something to Joe, who was already exhausted and about to vomit.

"Sorry, I can't let you in?"

When the guard handed him his transfer order back, Joe was too exhausted to argue. He could only gasp for breath and ask the guard, "Why?"

In response to Joe's question, the guard stated...

“We did receive a transfer order, and it does say that a man named Joe Harrison will be reporting for duty. But look, the order we received lists Joe Harrison as a second lieutenant, while you are just a corporal. So I can’t let you in.”

Upon hearing the guard's words, Joe laughed in anger.

"Are you alright, friend? I'm a corporal now, but this is my promotion order. Once I complete the training, I'll be a second lieutenant. Look, my name is on this promotion order. Can you let me in now?"

The guard glanced at Joe's transfer order and nodded.

"Oh, so you're still a corporal, aren't you?"

"I!"

Looking at the guard, Joe was so angry he wanted to draw his gun.

"This has nothing to do with my rank. This is my transfer order. You should let me in now!"

"No, you can't go in."

Soon, Joe's argument with the guards attracted the attention of the others in the camp.

A captain walked toward the camp gate.

"Herbert, what's going on?!"

Upon hearing the captain's question, the guard named Herbert immediately turned around like a puppet on a clock, with a perfect gait that even the military police couldn't find fault with, saluted, and then greeted the captain.

“There’s a Corporal Joe Harrison who claims to be Second Lieutenant Joe Harrison and wants to enter the camp. After I refused, he refused to leave.”

Upon hearing the guard's words, Joe sighed and handed his transfer order, promotion order, and identification to the captain.

“I am Joe Harrison.”

The captain took Joe's ID and looked at it, then his eyes immediately lit up like searchlights.

He looked at Joe in surprise.

"You're that Joe? The Joe Harrison who single-handedly held the flag and the trenches."

Although Joe wanted to say that it was all due to a misrepresentation in the publicity, he was too exhausted to explain anymore and simply nodded wearily.

"Yes, I am Joe Harrison."

Seeing that Joe had admitted his identity, the captain quickly ordered the guards to let Joe in.

"Welcome to join us!"

After returning the identification and documents to Joe, the captain shook hands with him excitedly.

"We are currently short-staffed, and we are very honored to have a combat hero like you join us."

Seeing the excited captain in front of him, Joe was a little puzzled.

"It's just a heavy machine gun, there shouldn't be a serious shortage of personnel, right?"

Upon hearing Joe's words, the captain chuckled.

"What heavy machine gun? That's just a lie to fool the Teutons. Our equipment isn't heavy machine guns. Come with me."

Soon, following the captain, Joe walked a short distance into the woods and saw a group of steel behemoths silently standing there.

Looking at these steel behemoths, Qiao was afraid that he was seeing things wrong, so he raised his hand to rub his eyes, blinked, and opened his eyes again, but it still didn't look right, so Qiao rubbed his eyes again.

At this moment, Qiao dared not open her eyes, fearing that everything before her was a hallucination.

No, Joe had no idea what he was thinking about joining the armored forces.

These things that appeared in front of me were just too ugly!

If the structure hadn't been so complex, Joe had considered whether he should build the tank himself.

However, as a mobile weapon, the tank is a complex system engineering project.

As someone who had worked illegally for several years in the Slavic hypotension treatment game, Joe knew very well that tanks were a huge thing that required balancing power, firepower, and defense. Outside of the game, you even had to consider human-machine interaction. It was a huge project that no one person could handle.

Of course, as a type of army equipment, tanks, like aircraft, follow the rule that style equals combat effectiveness; if something looks unattractive or offensive, its combat effectiveness is unlikely to be very good.

The tanks or tracked armored vehicles that appeared in front of Joe at this moment were really ugly to a certain degree.

As a former enthusiast of the "Hammer" series, Joe could even accept the "tanks" that GW created, with an explosive number of turrets and secondary weapons, and sizes so large that they seemed to want everyone to be able to see them from 800 miles away.

Furthermore, it's quite normal for the first-generation tanks to be a bit ugly or rather, to look a bit haphazard.

But the things that are now in front of Joe are just too ugly.

It looks like the product of Saint-Chamon and the Great Vagrant Tank getting drunk one night.

There is a side turret on each side of the track, which is quite normal, after all, it is a feature of British tanks.

The vehicle has a huge cannon at the front, which is quite normal; that's the design for assault guns and tank destroyers.

The vehicle has several small turrets on the roof that are equipped with machine guns and appear to be able to rotate; this is a truly groundbreaking design.

It was so huge that it looked like a church with tracks ready to run away, which wasn't a problem. After all, it was the first generation of tanks, so it wasn't wrong not to control the size.

But when all of the above are put together, and even in the center of the vehicle, there is a towering structure with a pole that seems to be used to hang command flags, which appears to be a lookout or command tower.

Joe finally broke down.

For the first time, Joe felt his limited vocabulary was inadequate to describe his current feelings.

If I had to say something, all Joe could say was, even if I died—outside, blown up by Teutonic cannonballs—I would never sit in this ugly thing!
(End of this chapter)