Imperial Elite

Chapter 9 Land Under the Sun
After marching all night, Joe, who hadn't slept all night, finally saw their destination at dawn: the expeditionary force's logistics base in Albert.

As the morning light shone on the slightly crooked golden statue of the Virgin Mary atop the cathedral in the town, Joe was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of rebirth.

It wasn't that Joe suddenly developed any feelings for the Holy Father and Holy Child in religion and wanted to be baptized on the front lines. Rather, the last time Joe came here with his troops, preparing to go to the front lines, he heard the legend about the crooked statue of the Virgin Mary from other soldiers who were resting here.

It is said that when the Teutons occupied this place, a Teutonic colonel wanted to remove the statue of the Virgin Mary.

So he sent his guards up to the top of the tower to dismantle the statue of the Virgin Mary, while he smoked by the truck in front of the church.

However, just as the soldiers who had climbed up removed a brick from the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary, a gargoyle on the roof of the church slid down and smashed the Teutonic colonel, who was smoking, into a bloody pulp.

The falling dripping beast didn't even hurt the adjutant who was bringing him coffee or the orderly standing next to him; it seemed as if it was specifically targeted at the Teutonic Colonel.

After that colonel, no one dared to touch the golden statue of Our Lady, and the golden statue of Our Lady stood there crookedly at the top of the church.

The day the war ends will be the day this crooked golden statue of the Virgin Mary collapses.

Joe wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that the golden statue of the Virgin Mary seemed to have become more crooked since the last time he saw it.

Doesn't this mean that the war is one step closer to ending?
However, now is not a good time to study this golden Madonna statue.

Following the surging crowd, Joe arrived at their current temporary camp.

Although Albert was one of the most important logistical centers for the Bunitania Expeditionary Force, only Amiens could compare to it.

However, before the outbreak of the war, Albert was just a small industrial city with a permanent population of less than 10,000, mainly engaged in textiles and agriculture.

The sole reason for using this place as a logistics center is that a railway line passes through the city, facilitating the transport of supplies.

In a small town like this, Joe obviously still wouldn't have a place to live.

Fortunately, due to the frequent movement of people here, the expeditionary force was unusually generous and set up a lot of tents in Albert, so that the troops withdrawing from the front lines would not have to make do like they were in the trenches.

But as Joe got closer to Albert, he noticed that people on the street were always watching him.

This puzzled Joe. Why were these people looking at him? When he withdrew from that damned trench, he had put away that damned medal like it was the personal property of those damned bastards in the squad who were now dead.

Theoretically speaking, even though I am handsome and have a striking appearance, I shouldn't have so many people staring at me the whole way...

Suddenly, Qiao remembered that not long ago, the division headquarters had summoned him late at night to award him a medal and give him an interview.

Holy crap? Information spreads this fast these days?

Soon the troops arrived at the prepared camp. After Joe put his personal belongings and the rest of the rascals in the tent, he prepared to go to town to find a post office.

Before he started furiously beating the typewriter to write the report in the company headquarters last night, Joe handed in the personal belongings of those brats.

When registering the addresses, Joe memorized these brats' addresses.

Although these brats had been mooching off him with their drinks and hadn't left him any food for dinner, they had obeyed all his orders on the battlefield. Without them, he wouldn't know where he was or how many pieces he would be in now.

When they drank together in the past, Qiao learned that these lads generally came from poor families and joined the army purely out of enthusiasm.

However, in this matter, the grandfathers of Brittany remained as inhumane as ever.

I don't know if it's because these old men think, "I've already provided you with a job, how dare you ask me for a salary?" or if it's because these old men think, "You've all volunteered for the army, so it doesn't matter if the salary is a little low."

As for what to do if the wages are too low to support your family? Don't you have guns? Just take out those Teutons on the other side and you'll have money, right?

In short, although the military provides all food and lodging, there are occasionally some strange expenses, such as uniform fees, that deduct from the soldiers' already meager wages.

Meanwhile, working in the factory behind the scenes not only avoids the risk of being shot by the Teutonics, but even the most unscrupulous factory owners in London would pay each unskilled worker 15-20 shillings per week, equivalent to about £0.75-£1.

However, the infantrymen who were crouching in the front-line trenches, facing constant artillery fire and bullets from the Teutonics, only received 7 to 12 shillings per week, equivalent to about 0.35 to 0.6 pounds.

With this salary, let alone supporting a family, it would be difficult to support even a small animal on top of supporting oneself.

Although theoretically those brats' families had nothing to do with Joe, and those brats were just unlucky to be down there, they should have gone to the big shots in the War Department if they had any problems.

But Joe felt things shouldn't be like this, and he should do something more for these brats.

So, despite being very tired, Joe still took his wallet and checkbook and headed out of the tent.

Seeing that Joe was about to leave the tent, those rascals who had thrown down their backpacks as soon as they entered the tent and collapsed onto their cots like they'd been shot all sat up and asked Joe, "Boss, where are you going?"

"I'm going to town to mail a few letters."

Upon hearing that Joe was going to town, these brats, who were just moments before sprawled on their beds like rag dolls, all sat up and said they would go with him.

Joe knew these brats were just trying to mooch off him for another drink.

But it wasn't a big deal. Qiao waved to the group of rascals, and they immediately gathered around, ready to go to town with him.

John, who had just joined, was still lying on the bed, looking completely bewildered as he watched Joe and the other brats crowd around him, unaware of what was going on.

Seeing that John was still confused about the situation, Joe felt it wouldn't be right to just leave the kid like that, so he waved to John.

"Don't lie there, let's go together."

John shook his head, somewhat bewildered.

"Let's not go. We've been walking all night and we're quite tired."

Seeing John's lack of interest, one of the brats couldn't stand it anymore. He gestured as if drinking and said to John, "Let's go to a bar. This is Gaul, there must be good wine here."

Upon hearing that he was to drink, John's blank expression immediately turned into a refusal, and he shook his head as he said this.

"No, I haven't been paid this month yet, I'm not going."

Hearing John say that, Joe sighed and waved to John.

"Don't be silly, it's my treat!"

Upon hearing this, John's expression of resistance immediately turned into surprise. Before that surprise could completely transform into an expression mixed with excitement and a hint of embarrassment, John had already sprang out of bed and joined the line behind Joe.

"Really? I've heard that Gaul wine is quite expensive."

Joe waved his hand without saying a word and left the tent.

Meanwhile, a brat walking behind whispered to John, "Joe owns a factory. He makes a fortune in royalties every year. For the past year or so, Joe has been paying for their team's bar trips. What's the point of having you here?"

Amid John's exclamation of "Holy crap!", Joe led the brats out of the camp and headed towards town.

Along the way, Joe noticed that many people were pointing and whispering about him, which made him even more suspicious.

Could it be that those reporters actually wrote something?

Otherwise, why would these people look at me with the eyes of someone who has seen something rare and precious?

Joe's doubts were answered when he went into the post office to buy envelopes, stationery, and stamps.

It seems that because most of the people using the post office have now become Buntanian soldiers, there are now several more soldiers wearing Buntanian Expeditionary Force uniforms at the post office counter.

When the soldiers saw Joe approaching with an envelope and stamps, paying his bill and asking to borrow a pen, they immediately pointed at him excitedly and said something incomprehensible like "a hero of our time," leaving Joe, who had no idea what was going on, so embarrassed that he scratched his toes on the ground.

However, Joe quickly learned the current situation from the soldiers.

Then Joe became depressed.

Joe had been thinking about this ever since he wrote those letters and put the checks in the envelopes.

Joe still couldn't figure out what was going on until those rascals spotted a decent-looking bar on the street, went inside, and started ordering the bartender some specialties.

The old men up there gave me medals and recognized my talents, yet they still made me stay on the front lines. I almost died yesterday!
Looking at the glass of red wine the bartender poured in front of him, Qiao didn't think twice and drank it all in one gulp.

Damn it, how the hell is it possible to make Britannia any better with these insects around?!

Is it too late to seek refuge with the Teutons?
Just as Joe gulped down the drink, one of the soldiers drinking in the bar recognized him.

Unlike the soldiers in the post office, this soldier, who also had several medals hanging on his chest, walked up to Joe with a beer in hand, leaned against the bar, and asked Joe a question.

"You're Joe? Joe Harrison? The hero of our time?"

Joe glanced at the soldier, then at the beer in his hand, and without saying anything, turned to the bartender who was wiping glasses behind the bar.

"How can the warriors of the expeditionary force drink such weak horse urine? Bring out your best brandy and red wine, the next few rounds are on me."

As Joe spoke, he waved the half-empty glass of red wine in his hand at the bartender.

"How much water did you add to this stuff? Don't try to fool me with this garbage!"

After saying that, Joe placed his wine glass on the table, leaving the soldier who had come looking for trouble in a daze.

He then pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and slapped it on the bar.

"Today, everyone here, let's drink until we drop!"

Just as Joe's name resounded through the air in one of Albert's bars, nearly shaking the roof tiles off, Major General Parker of the 32nd Infantry Division was finally able to sit in his room and begin reviewing reports.

Although as a senior officer, Major General Parker was different from those poor soldiers who could only retreat on foot to the rear, even on the front lines he could comfortably retreat to the rear in his luxury car worth a thousand pounds.

However, as a crucial logistical hub for the expeditionary force, throwing a brick here could knock down nine colonels and one general out of ten people.

Under these circumstances, it would obviously be a difficult task to squeeze in another division headquarters.

After much coordination work, Major General Parker finally had a bed and desk under the eaves, and this feeling of accomplishment greatly improved his mood.

Then, as he began to review the reports, Major General Parker's mood soured again.

Although Major General Parker knew that the 32nd Infantry Division had performed very poorly in this campaign, having captured almost no Teutonic positions after two days of offensive.

The Teutonic Army's three defensive lines were breached, and the 32nd Infantry Division was forced to retreat and regroup before even breaking through the first line.

However, the losses reported still made Parker's brow twitch. If the fighting continued for another two days with losses of this magnitude, the 32nd Infantry Division might have been able to be reorganized into an infantry regiment on the spot.

No, I need to find a way to salvage some of my pride.

Having learned from the previous experience, Major General Parker felt that awarding medals to his subordinates and publicizing their heroic deeds was a good practice, so he decided to do it again.

Then, Major General Parker, who was reviewing the report, saw a familiar name in the report in front of him.

What has Joe Harrison done now?
After the infantry advanced, and after two infantry companies lost their officers, he temporarily took command and withstood two Teutonic attacks, losing at least one enemy company.

Major General Parker tapped the table. Although he really hoped it was true, the report was still a bit too far-fetched. If the battle results were fabricated, he would be laughed to death if he submitted it.

No, I need to be more careful this time.

So Major General Parker summoned his adjutant and ordered him to find the remnants of the two infantry companies and ask them what exactly happened.

The report may have been embellished, but those soldiers wouldn't lie.

Meanwhile, in the royal palace in Germania, the capital of Teutonic China, Frederick II looked with a smile at the newspaper in front of him that published Joe's story and called him 'a hero of our time'.

“I knew it! Those Buntanians couldn’t sustain the war any longer. Falkingham was right!”

After reading it, Frederick II waved the newspaper in his hand and addressed his ministers.

"It seems that the campaigns launched by our army in Ypres and Los last year, and the naval offensive in Jutland this year, have dealt a heavy blow to those islanders, to the point that they now even have to send such scientific talents into the war. Such a thing is absolutely impossible in the Teutonic Empire."

With a beaming smile, Frederick II put down his newspaper and looked at his ministers before him.

"Having scientific research talents participate in the war will only allow us to gradually gain a technological advantage. Although the situation in China is very difficult right now, with shortages of many supplies, these shortages can be overcome."

"Spread this word, let the soldiers and the people know that the Bunitanias are about to collapse, and that we will soon crush the Gauls at Verdun. Once we have dealt with the Bunitanias and the Gauls, the Lucias to the east will be nothing to us."

As the ministers nodded, Frederick II seemed to suddenly realize something.

"By the way, the corporal who brought back this newspaper, I remember the report said that he was captured and then escaped and returned to his unit. Such a brave man must be rewarded and awarded a second-class Iron Cross."

After speaking, Frederick II turned around and looked at the huge world map behind him.

"Soon, we will win this war, and the Teutonic sword will win the land under the sun for the Teutonic plow. All sacrifices will be worthwhile for that day."

(End of this chapter)