Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 18 Hans, Your Coffee Is Terrible
After briefly explaining the mission to the others, Morin looked solemnly at Sergeant Klaus beside him.

With this highly experienced veteran around, even though he wasn't directly commanding the troops, Morin was still somewhat at ease.

This can also be seen as another kind of "having an elder in the family is like having a treasure".
"While I'm gone, the troops are in your hands, Sergeant Klaus! Keep a close watch and be wary of any enemy counterattack."

"Don't worry, Lieutenant."

Sergeant Klaus nodded vigorously. After the morning's battle, he no longer had any doubts about Morin's orders.

After arranging everything, Maureen turned around and found Hans, the orderly sitting nearby.

He felt as if his eyelids weighed a ton, and his legs felt like they were made of lead. From yesterday until now, the tension in his nerves and the intense physical exertion had almost drained him dry.

Morin even felt that the fact that he had been able to hold on until now meant that his body's abilities were already superhuman.

"Hans."

"Second Lieutenant?" The young orderly immediately stood up.

"Go to the kitchen cart and get me a cup of coffee." Maureen rubbed his temples. "The stronger the better."

"Yes, Lieutenant!" Hans replied and immediately jogged off.

After the orderly left, Morin, along with Corporal Bowman and four other selected elite soldiers, headed towards the back of the village, where the battalion's supply convoy was located.

Before the morning attack, the field artillery battalion provided fire support with 77mm field guns. Although Morin did not know how many casualties he had caused to the Kingdom's army, it was clear that the damage to the village was considerable, with many buildings damaged in the shelling.

Morin and his men traversed the village roads riddled with craters and rubble, and soon found the supply train's hideout and temporary camp.

More than a dozen four-wheeled heavy-duty carriages, as well as several trucks that Morin had ridden in before, were cleverly hidden at the edge of a small grove of trees. The horses, unsaddled, were leisurely grazing nearby.

The quartermaster of the 1st Battalion, 33rd Infantry Regiment, a middle-aged captain with a Prussian-style mustache, was counting supplies with the soldiers of the supply corps.

Upon seeing the warrant handed to him by Morin, he was taken aback for a moment, then his mustache twitched upwards.

"Lieutenant Morin?" The quartermaster sized him up. "That brilliant flanking attack this morning, was it you who did it?"

“Just lucky, sir,” Morin replied modestly.

"Luck is also a part of strength."

The quartermaster said very seriously, and at the same time, the look in his eyes as he looked at Morin changed. He readily put away the order and waved to the soldiers beside him.

"Go, pick out six of the best-condition bicycles and give them to Lieutenant Morin and the others."

He turned to Morin and reminded him, "Lieutenant, the country roads here are not easy to travel on. They are full of potholes and put a lot of strain on the vehicles. You must be careful when you ride them."

"Thank you for reminding me, sir."

Just as the soldiers went to move the bicycles, Morin's gaze fell on the rear of the supply depot, and then a secluded area caught his attention.

Two enormous figures were parked there.

They were like two heavily armored knights magnified several times, standing about 3 meters tall, kneeling silently. Together with the armed swords, kite-shaped shields, and huge rifles (cannons) on the weapon racks, they gave Morin a silent sense of oppression.

Compared to their massive and heavy bodies, their limbs appear rather short, giving them a slightly odd proportion.

It's like a combination of 'Onion Knight', 'Sakura Wars', and 'SYNDUALITY'.
Very abstract.

Their entire bodies were covered by robes printed with black and white crosses, with only some thick metal pipes exposed from the gaps, and exhaust pipes protruding from their backs indicating that they seemed to be driven by some kind of internal combustion engine.

At this moment, many people, also dressed in black and white robes but without weapons, were busily maintaining and resupplying the two steel behemoths. "My God... is this the 'Armored Knight'?"

Corporal Bowman, who was following behind Morin, couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

The other soldiers also craned their necks, their eyes filled with curiosity and awe.

Like most Saxon soldiers, they had only seen blurry photos of these steel structures in newspapers; this was the first time they had ever seen them in person.

The visual impact of that cold metallic texture and massive size was far beyond what black-and-white photographs in newspapers could offer to people of that era.

The quartermaster followed their gaze and a knowing smile appeared on his face.

"It seems this is also the first time you've seen these precious darlings of the Teutonic Knights."

He walked over to Morin and lowered his voice.

"The brigade headquarters heard that we suffered heavy casualties this morning, so they specially sent these two 'Siegfried' armored knights, along with a whole squad of knight squires, to reinforce us."

The quartermaster seemed to have a good impression of Morin, this valiant officer, and unusually said a few more words:
"With these two big guys, the next attack will be much easier! When we encounter enemy machine gun positions, they will go up and clear them out. It's better than letting our men risk their lives to fill the gaps, or sending you out on those dangerous missions again."

Morin's heart skipped a beat. He knew, of course, how foolish and cruel it was to use human lives to attack a machine gun position; the battle that morning was still fresh in his mind.

If this kind of unit, which resembles his understanding of 'mechs,' can effectively deal with enemy strongpoints, it will undoubtedly be a boon for infantry.

He was curious about how this thing would work on the battlefield, whether its armor could withstand machine gun bullets, and whether it could effectively defend against artillery fire.

But he also understood that now was not the time to satisfy his curiosity; the reconnaissance mission was urgent.

"Thank you for informing me, sir." Morin withdrew his gaze and thanked the quartermaster again.

"Go ahead, and good luck."

The group pushed their brand-new bicycles away from the supply depot. They hadn't gone far when Hans, the orderly, caught up with them, panting, carrying a steaming tin cup.

"Lieutenant, your coffee!"

Morin took the cup, and a strange smell, a mixture of burnt and bitter odor, wafted up.

He took a sip, and the taste was indescribable. It was like a soup made by boiling burnt beans and some kind of herb together, bitter and astringent, almost scraping his tongue.

He frowned and glanced at his orderly, Hans.

The name, and the coffee in his hand, made him feel like there was a joke stuck in his throat, about to burst out.

"Hans!"

"Yes, Lieutenant!"

"Your coffee is awful!"

"."

After saying that, Morin tilted his head back, drank the stimulant that tasted like poison in one gulp, then shoved the empty cup back into Hans's hand, and got on his bicycle.

"set off!"

(End of this chapter)