Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 230 Strange Dreams

Albert became more and more agitated as he spoke, gripping John French's arm tightly with his intact right hand.

"We are the Highland Mages of the Holy Britannian Empire! Our lives are meant to defend the glory of the Empire and our Mage Order, not to be wasted on this damned Gaulish land and the Saxon war machine!"

John French was speechless after hearing Albert's words.

He wanted to refute, but found himself unable to utter a single word, because everything Albert said was true.

Just then, another messenger rushed in, looking flustered.

"Report to the Marshal! The western front reports that the main force of the Saxons has successfully erected a pontoon bridge on the Somme River northwest of Amiens! Our troops deployed there are too few to stop their offensive, and our defensive line has been breached!"

This news became the final straw that broke the camel's back.

John French felt a sudden darkness engulf his vision and collapsed onto the cot behind him.

It's all over.

The enemy's main force is flanking from the flank and rear. Once they cut off the route of retreat to the south, the tens of thousands of expeditionary troops left in Amiens will be trapped like turtles in a jar.

"Marshal, the situation in the war has changed."

Albert looked at the distraught John French and softened his tone slightly:
"Our invincible tactics from the past are no longer suitable for the current battlefield. If we continue to fight using the old methods, we will only cause more Britannian soldiers to die here in vain."

Listening to the other person's words, John French's thoughts involuntarily drifted back to sixteen years ago.

That was in the hot African colonies, between the Holy Britannian Empire and the Saxon Empire, where a fierce conflict broke out over mining areas on the border of the colonies.

Initially, the situation was very unfavorable for Brittany.

The fighting spirit and training level of the Saxon soldiers far exceeded their expectations, completely catching up with the well-trained Imperial soldiers.

In continuous mobile warfare, the opposing commander, relying on repeated local troop superiorities, successively eliminated several Imperial strongholds.

Just when everyone thought the empire was about to face its first colonial defeat, the empire's reinforcements arrived.

John French still remembers the scene from that day.

When the sky-covering meteorite fell from the heavens, smashing the dense ranks of the Saxons, along with their courage and pride, into ashes, the entire battlefield fell silent.

Everyone understood how futile and powerless mortals' struggles were in the face of absolute magical power.

That war ultimately ended with the Saxons initiating negotiations.

This also made the whole world realize once again that mages are still the only masters on the battlefield.

But now?

In just sixteen years, the situation has changed dramatically.

John French looked up at the officers in the command post, whose faces were also filled with fear and confusion, and then at Albert's resolute face.

He knew Albert was right, but
“Master Albert, you may evacuate first, but I hope you can leave some mages behind to assist us! After all, there are nearly 100,000 people here, and even if I order a retreat, it will take time!”

For the first time, Field Marshal John French humbled himself before a seventh-circle mage and sought his help.

Master Albert wanted to refuse, as he did not want any more mages to perish there, but faced with the request of an army marshal, he could not easily refuse.

"I understand. Please arrange the evacuation as soon as possible."

Albert paused for a moment, then pulled John French aside and spoke to him using telepathy:

"Given the current situation, the 'Fire Stealer Project' cannot proceed in the short term. We can only wait for the arrival of the mage contingent before making further plans."

John French's expression changed visibly when he heard about the 'Fire Stealer Project,' and he nodded.

"I understand, but what if the Saxons beat us to it?"

"Don't worry, they definitely haven't obtained this intelligence yet."

Maureen felt dizzy and confused, as if many people were calling her name.

When the scene before him became clear again, he found himself in a classroom at the PLA Military Academy, taking a basic command course, when the instructor suddenly raised a question.

"Students, based on the above tactical assumptions, if you encounter an enemy armored mage in an urban combat environment, and you only have one firepower squad at your disposal, what kind of deployment should you make?"

After the instructor finished speaking, he glanced around the classroom and then fixed his gaze on Morin.

"Morin, you answer this question."

"Reporting, Instructor!"

"I will order all squads to quickly find cover, and the 120mm anti-tank rocket launcher firing teams to immediately find advantageous positions and complete their deployment! Use armor-piercing rounds to suppress and strike the enemy armored division! Answer complete!"

"Captain Morin, what are you talking about? What is a 120mm anti-tank rocket launcher?"

Morin felt the scene blur before his eyes, and when it cleared up again, the instructor in front of him had become the vice dean of the Saxon War Academy.

And his classmates all became foreigners.
Moreover, his face and body were covered with bullet holes and shrapnel wounds, and the muscles, fat and even internal organs under the open wounds were clearly visible.

"Fuck!"

Molin suddenly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar gray ceiling with a metallic texture.

The air was filled with a faint smell of engine oil and some kind of chemical gas.

"So it was all a dream? Where am I now?"

Morin shook his slightly dizzy head and struggled to sit up, but felt a burning pain in his lower back and abdomen. He looked down and saw that his military uniform had been untied, and a thick white bandage was wrapped around his waist and lower abdomen, with a trace of blood seeping through it.

Then memories flooded back like a tidal wave.

Explosion, shockwave, rope ladder, and Captain Schneider's face, etched with shock.
"Oh, I remember now, I think I passed out right after being pulled onto the airship."

"You're awake, Captain."

A voice came from the side.

Morin turned his head and saw a young man wearing a Saxon Air Force uniform with a medical sergeant insignia on his shoulder, standing by the bed with a tray in his hand.

"How are you feeling? Does the wound still hurt?" the medic asked, placing the tray on the table beside him.

"Not bad." Morin grinned. "What's wrong with me?"

"You lost a lot of blood, and with the physical exhaustion from the outburst, you passed out," the medic explained. "Our captain ordered me to stay with you."

He pointed to the bandage on Morin's waist: "You probably got a gash in your waist from a bullet or shrapnel. Luckily it's not deep, otherwise it wouldn't be just a little bleeding."

"We've already given you emergency treatment on the airship, stitched up some wounds and applied some medicine. But once we get back to the ground, you'd better go to the field hospital for a proper check-up, mainly to see if there are any signs of infection in your wound."

"inflamed?"

Upon hearing this word, Maureen instantly lost her composure.

He suddenly realized that there didn't seem to be any miracle drugs like penicillin or antibiotics in the world!
In this era, let alone being hit by a bullet, even being scratched by a rusty piece of iron, if the wound becomes infected, is basically a death sentence.

The mortality rate is alarmingly high!
"Good grief, can I really be that unlucky?"

Morin became increasingly panicked, breaking out in a cold sweat.

He risked his life on the battlefield, luring mages and blowing up streets, barely surviving. It would be such a waste if he died from a small infection.

“Um, Sergeant,” Morin asked tentatively, “what kind of medicine do you usually use to prevent wounds from getting infected?”

"We have the Empire's latest 'sulfonamide powder,' which is very effective."

The medic said with a proud expression:

"However, this stuff is very precious, and it's usually only officers and technical personnel who can use it. Don't worry, Captain, we've already given you the best medicine."

"Sulfonamides?"

Morin was stunned for a moment, then let out a long sigh of relief.

Thank goodness, although there's no penicillin, at least there's sulfonamide.

Although this stuff has a lot of side effects, it's still a legitimate antibiotic, and at least it can minimize the chance of infection.

It seems that the technology tree in this world isn't entirely off track.

After confirming that he was no longer in immediate danger, Maureen felt full of energy again.

With the help of the medic, he sat up again, buttoned up his uniform, and walked out of the small medical pod.

As soon as he stepped outside, he saw Captain Schneider leaning against the wall in the corridor, seemingly waiting for him.

"Awake? Mr. Madman."

Schneider smiled when he saw him.

"Thanks to you, I'm still alive." Morin laughed. "Thank you for pulling me out of there, otherwise I'd probably be roast meat by now."

"No need to thank me. If you want to thank someone, thank your staff officer named Manstein. He's the one who contacted me by radio."

Schneider looked Morin up and down, still unable to help but marvel:

"But then again, you're really something, you single-handedly turned the ground upside down."

"Oh? How is the situation now?" Morin immediately perked up.

"Come and see for yourself."

Schneider led him through a long corridor to the bridge at the very front of the airship.

The wide bridge offers excellent visibility, allowing a panoramic view of the entire Amiens battlefield through the huge arched portholes.

Morin walked to the porthole and looked down.

The entire city of Amiens was shrouded in war and smoke.

The northern city has been completely occupied by soldiers of the Saxon Empire, and countless soldiers and vehicles are pouring into the southern city through the railway bridge they have captured.

Meanwhile, on the Somme River northwest of Amiens, a long pontoon bridge can be vaguely seen that has been completed. General Mackensen's main force is crossing the Somme one after another, and is encircling the southern city of Amiens from the flank and rear.

Inside the southern city, the battle had also reached a fever pitch.

Saxon and Britannian soldiers engaged in brutal street fighting in narrow streets and dilapidated buildings.

Gunshots and explosions rang out one after another, and bursts of light from explosions could be seen every now and then.

As he arrived in this open airspace, the system map in his mind was instantly filled with a massive amount of information.

(End of this chapter)