Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 235 is still one step away.

On the southern edge of Amiens, a relatively intact municipal building was temporarily requisitioned as a joint command post.

Mackensen, Ludendorff, and generals from various corps and assault combat groups gathered together.

On the huge map temporarily hung on the wall, the blue arrow representing the Saxon army had completely sandwiched the red marker representing the Brittany army.

"Generals, it seems the outcome of the Battle of Amiens is now decided!"

A staff officer reported with great enthusiasm:
"Based on our current understanding of the enemy's movements, the commander of the Brittany Expeditionary Force should have led the expeditionary force headquarters and some remnants to break out to the south last night."

"However, many troops are still trapped in the city by our army. According to observations from the air by armored airships, these troops are breaking out one after another."

"Very good. Tell all units that they don't need to surround the enemy. Our target is not this expeditionary force."

General Mackensen nodded, his aged face revealing little expression, but the satisfaction in his eyes was evident.

"in addition."

The staff officer paused, his tone tinged with excitement.

"Regarding the massive explosion that occurred yesterday near the South City Railway Bridge, we have determined that it was Captain Friedrich Morin, commander of the 1st Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard, who planned and executed the operation."

"He used himself as bait to successfully lure four Brittany highland mages into a trap and annihilated them all!"

These words caused an uproar in the command center.

The generals present all gasped in astonishment, exchanging surprised glances.

A captain orchestrated an operation that killed four Britannian mages.

This sounds like a made-up story!
Mages, especially high-level mages, have always been a strategic deterrent force on the battlefield.
But this Captain Morin just wiped out four of these valuable deterrents, who were also precious to the Britannians.
General Ludendorff's eyelids twitched, and he looked at General Mackensen.

Then I noticed that the old general was gently stroking his beard with his fingers, and there seemed to be a faint smile on his lips.

"That little madman, he's like a completely different person since he went to the battlefield."

Mackensen murmured to himself, a complex mix of pride, admiration, and lingering fear welling up inside him.

He knew Morin was incredibly audacious, but he never expected him to do something like this, and to do it so skillfully.

This famous playboy from Dresden has now grown to a level that even surprises him.

"Now that the overall situation is settled, the rest of the battle is just 'garbage time'."

On the other side, General Ludendorff, as the superior of the current training assault battalion, cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"Let's replace the training assault battalion. They've been at the forefront since the start of the war, and their casualties have been considerable. They deserve a rest."

The generals present all nodded in agreement.

The training assault battalion, this sharp blade, has completed its most crucial mission of breaking the deadlock; there's no need to waste their energy on the subsequent cleanup work.

Soon, an order reached Morin.

"Battalion Commander, the Army Group Command has ordered you to proceed to the temporary command post immediately."

A messenger ran up to Morin, panting.

Morin was lying on top of some ruins, observing the enemy situation across the way through binoculars. He frowned somewhat reluctantly after hearing the order.

"understood."

He temporarily handed over command to Kleist, and then, surrounded by the guard platoon, limped toward the rear.

When Morin walked into the command post, which had been converted from the city hall, all the generals' eyes fell on him.

What they saw was a young captain covered in gunpowder smoke, his uniform stained with dust and blood.

His face was somewhat pale, and his gait was a little awkward, clearly indicating that he was injured.

General Ludendorff noticed his stiff waist immediately, frowned, and strode forward.

"Captain Morin, I heard you injured your back?"

"Reporting to the general, it's just a minor injury, nothing serious."

Morin straightened his back, but the stinging pain from the wound still made his lips twitch.

"Nonsense!" Ludendorff's face darkened. "I heard from Captain Schneider that you lost too much blood and passed out on the airship! Is that a minor injury? Do you think you can fool us old folks?"

He certainly knew about the relationship between Morin and Mackensen, and he also knew how much His Highness the Crown Prince treasured this captain.
If someone they value gets into trouble while working for them, those two will definitely find a chance to execute him.

Moreover, from Ludendorff's own perspective, the loss of such a once-in-a-century military genius here would be a huge loss for the entire empire.

"General, I'm really fine, I can still fight!"

Morin was getting anxious. The most difficult moment was over, and they were about to start cleaning up the battlefield and collecting loot. Was it time to replace him?

"Alright, obey orders, Captain Morin!"

A deep but authoritative shout silenced the entire command post instantly.

General Mackensen slowly walked over from behind the others. He didn't look at Morin, but instead spoke to the two 'plate armor supermen' at the door:
"Send Captain Morin to the field hospital in the rear. If he resists, tie him up."

His voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable power.

Morin opened his mouth, but looking at the old general's emotionless face, he swallowed back all his protests.

He knew that when General Mackensen gave an order in this tone, it meant there was no room for negotiation.

"Yes! General!"

Two tall, burly general's guards came up and flanked Morin from both sides.

"At the same time, order the First Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard to immediately disengage from the battle and retreat to the North City for rest and reorganization!" Mackensen added.

And so, amidst the amused and admiring gazes of the generals filling the room, Captain Friedrich Morin, one of the stars of the Battle of Amiens, was 'forcibly' escorted out of the command post.

Seeing the unwilling look on Morin's face as he was dragged away, Kleist and Manstein finally breathed a long sigh of relief.

Finally, at least their mad battalion commander can have some peace and quiet.

The Saxon Empire's field hospital was set up in a requisitioned farm on the northern outskirts of Amiens.

The air was filled with the disinfectant smell of Lysol and the faint groans of the wounded, a stark contrast to the deafening artillery fire from the front lines.

Morin was placed in a medical tent reserved for officers.

As he lay on his cot, watching a nurse, clearly newly recruited, cut the bandage around his waist with scissors to change his dressing, he truly felt a lingering fear.

The wound, caused by a bullet or shrapnel, was not deep, but it was long and gruesome, with signs of inflammation at the edges.

"Luckily, it arrived in time!"

As the nurse clumsily cleaned the wound with an alcohol swab, she said softly, "If you delay for another two days, your wound could become seriously infected, which would be a real problem."

After the dressing was changed, Morin had just lain down when the curtain to the next bed was lifted.

A man with his head wrapped in bandages, only one eye showing, was lying on the hospital bed, grinning at him.

"Hey, isn't this our great hero who took down four mages with that massive explosion, Captain Morin? What, you got hurt too?"

Morin chuckled when he saw the newcomer. This guy, wrapped up like a dumpling, was none other than Ludwig, who had been shoved into the wall along with his armored knight by Master Albert using the "Hand of Bigby."

The two men, who had narrowly escaped death, smiled at each other, and Ludwig curiously inquired about the battle after he was knocked unconscious.

Morin casually recounted how he had 'persuaded' four highland mages using magic crystal bombs.

The conversation between the two was full of dark humor, which made the other wounded in the tent listen with great interest, temporarily forgetting their own pain.

Not long after, Kleist, Manstein, and the four company commanders, Steiner, Klaus, Wolf, and Jonas, also arrived at the tent.

"Battalion Commander, you can finally take a break!"

Wolf, that burly man, shouted as soon as he entered, but there was a hint of embarrassment on his face.

After being called out by Morin through a loudspeaker on the battlefield yesterday, this 2nd Company Commander, who "doesn't get into position," has become somewhat famous.

"How dare you say that to me? Once I'm healed, I'm definitely going to make you train extra!"

Morin shook his head in annoyance, then continued speaking to the others:

"You guys, keep a close eye on the troops while I'm gone, and make sure nothing goes wrong!"

"Don't worry, Battalion Commander!"

Kleist quickly said:

"Everyone has been settled in, and the wounded have been sent to the field hospital. Just focus on recovering; the army has taken care of us!"

Looking at the concerned and familiar faces, a warm feeling welled up in Morin's heart.

He knew these people were genuinely worried about him. He was happy to have some peace and quiet, so he simply became a hands-off manager.

After seeing off the subordinates who came to visit, the tent returned to silence.

This sudden leisure allowed Morin's brain, which had been working at high speed since his transmigration, to finally have time to calm down and think.

He lay in bed with his eyes closed, but his mind was like a fast-forwarded movie, replaying battles from the past.

From the initial skirmishes to the airdrop into the Liège fortress, and then to the bloody street fighting in Amiens.

He discovered that although he had achieved a series of victories thanks to his tactical thinking that was ahead of its time and the 'cheat code' provided by the system.

But in essence, the form of war has not fundamentally changed.

The ordinary infantrymen were still using weapons similar to those from World War I to fight against armored knights and mages who were clearly superior to those of World War I.

But is this really the limit?
Maureen doesn't think so.

His thoughts drifted to the spoils he had captured.

The Gauls' enchanting techniques proved that the power of magic was not exclusive to the spellcaster.

It can be fixed onto objects and used by ordinary people.

The existence of magic crystal cannons, magic crystal bombs, and detonators further showed him the possibility of infantry fighting against heavily armored units.

If this technology can be miniaturized and popularized, then every infantry squad will have the capability to challenge armored knights!
And then there's the [Enchanted Weapon] spell he used on the MG14 light machine gun in a moment of desperation yesterday.

In those brief few minutes, the enchanted machine gun bullets effectively damaged the mage's protective spells.

This made him realize that the combination of magic and technology could unleash power far exceeding that of either alone.

What if we could mass-enchant soldiers' standard weapons?

Even if it's just the most basic effect, it will be revolutionary in improving the combat effectiveness of infantry!

One bold idea after another collided and merged in Morin's mind.

He seemed to see the battlefield of the future:
Squads of infantry, equipped with enchanted rifles and carrying small magic crystal armor-piercing rounds, moved nimbly through the city ruins.

They no longer feared the sturdy barricades, nor the enemy's armored knights.

They are even capable of fighting lone low-level mages in a coordinated squad.

This is not a fantasy!
This is a brand new elite force, somewhere between ordinary infantry and expensive armored knights!

Their cost is far lower than that of armored knights, and their training period is shorter, yet they can exert combat effectiveness far exceeding that of conventional infantry.

Moreover, infantry, this ancient branch of the military, will always be an indispensable part of the battlefield.
This is the real force that can change the course of a war!
Morin became more and more excited as he thought about it; he almost jumped out of his hospital bed.

He felt he had grasped the key to unlocking the door to future wars.

Weapons, tactics, organization—he had already formed a preliminary framework for everything in his mind.

However, just as he was reaching the peak of his excitement, a fundamental and unsolvable problem was poured over his head like a bucket of cold water.

Whether using magical items or maximizing the effectiveness of enchanted weapons, there is a fundamental prerequisite: the user must possess a certain level of 'magic affinity'.

Just like a light bulb without electricity, no matter how good the wiring and switch you give it, it won't light up.

Most ordinary people have almost no magical power in their bodies, let alone any 'magical affinity'.

In the Saxon Empire, this technology was even monopolized by mages.

He can forge the finest enchanted weapons and design advanced tactics.
But if enough 'magic affinity' soldiers can't be found, then it's all just talk.

How to solve this problem?

Maureen fell into deep thought.

This problem is like an insurmountable wall, blocking his path to the future.

Morin opened his eyes and stared blankly at the gray-white ceiling of the tent.

Outside, the soldiers' loud singing before their meal could be heard, full of vigor and vitality.

He suddenly realized that his next goal might no longer be to win a particular battle.

Instead, we need to find a way, a way to make the ordinary infantry of this world extraordinary.

"How can we enable ordinary soldiers to possess so-called 'magic affinity' in large numbers?"

(End of this chapter)