Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 244 We can't fight Paris without me!
"Add another seat?"

Ludwig's eyes widened suddenly as the idea of ​​knocking on the door of the absurd—utterly outrageous, yet seemingly feasible—exploded in his mind.

"Yes! A two-seater armored knight!"

Morin became more and more excited as he spoke, and at this point, his own thoughts were completely opened up.

"Think about it, extend your cockpit back a bit, and turn it into a two-seat configuration, front and back."

"You stay in front, still in charge of controlling the movement and melee combat of the armored knights."

"Then, we'll shove a dedicated weapons officer behind you!"

"This weapons officer is not responsible for driving. His only task is to control all the long-range weapons mounted on the armored knight through an independent observation and operating system!"

"With this, you two can divide the work, one of you can handle movement and traditional combat, and the other can handle ranged attacks. Wouldn't that perfectly solve the problem?"

Ludwig was dumbfounded.

A two-seat cockpit and weapons officer—this idea was unheard of, yet it seemed to make sense.

"even."

Meanwhile, Morin's imagination ran wild.

"We can be even bolder! The back seat doesn't have to be occupied by ordinary soldiers. What if a mage sat in there?"

Ludwig: "Wait, a mage?"

"That's right! Doesn't that make him a mobile, heavily armored magic knight who can also cast spells?!" Morin clapped his hands excitedly.

Ludwig was completely stunned; his mouth hung open, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

The future that Maureen painted for him had completely exceeded his imagination.

If all of this could really come to fruition, the combat form of the Armored Knight unit would be completely overturned!
He looked at Morin, his eyes filled not only with admiration but also with awe.

Ludwig even began to suspect that Maureen's brain structure was different from others.

This guy has never even piloted an armored knight for a single day, so why does he have a deeper understanding of this than anyone else?
"Morin. You."

Ludwig took a deep breath, trying to calm his excited emotions.

"You are a genius, a true military genius."

"Alright, alright, whether I'm a genius or not is self-evident."

Morin waved his hand, still lost in his own fantasy—walking in a heavily armored attack helicopter, what a wonderful thing that would be!
"This is just a preliminary idea. How to implement it will depend on the research of professionals like you and the magic technicians in the back. Once you've recovered, you can write this idea into a report and submit it to the higher-ups of your knight order to see their reaction."

"I certainly will!"

Ludwig nodded heavily. He had decided that once his injury had healed better in the next couple of days, he would immediately begin writing the report.

The armored knight pilot suddenly had a premonition that a new era for armored knights might be ushered in by the words he wrote.

And the source of all this is the young captain in front of us, humming a little tune as he continues to peel another apple.

After lying in the field hospital for a few more days, Morin felt like all the bones in his body were about to rust.

The wound on my waist has scabbed over, and apart from not being able to do strenuous exercise, I have no problem with daily activities.

He simply couldn't stand it any longer.

Amiens has been captured. According to information he gathered from various sources, as well as the information constantly refreshed in the system's [Intelligence] tab, the main forces of the First and Second Armies are regrouping, with their advance aimed directly at Paris, the capital of the Gallic Republic.

That's Paris!

He led the training assault battalion, fighting to the death, risking his life, all to protect his 20 million Imperial Marks from devaluation, just so that one day he could drink from the Seine.
How could he and the training commando battalion be absent from such a historic moment that would go down in history?
So, starting the day after his wounds healed, Morin began his path of 'harassing' his superiors.

One after another, applications to return to the unit flew from the field hospital to the army group headquarters.

"Reporting to the General, Captain Friedrich Morin, commander of the Training Assault Battalion, has fully recovered from his injuries and is in good health. He strongly requests to return to his unit!"

"Reporting to the General, Captain Morin has expressed his desire to continue serving the Empire by leading the Training Assault Battalion!"

"Reporting to the General, the Training Assault Battalion is eager to once again become the spearhead of the entire army group, the first to pierce into the heart of the Gauls!"

These application reports, bearing Morin's unique style, left the staff officers in charge of processing them both amused and exasperated.

They had no choice but to submit these reports verbatim to General Mackensen, commander of the First Army.

At this moment, in the temporary command post of the First Army, General Mackensen and his old partner and most trusted chief of staff, Johannes Friedrich Leopold von Seekert, were discussing the specific plan for attacking Paris while looking at a huge military map.

"That little rascal Morin can't stay still for even a moment."

General Mackensen picked up the latest application report on the table, a helpless yet indulgent smile appearing on his aged face.

"Young people have energy, that's a good thing. Unlike my husband, who probably wishes he could be lying in a field hospital every day."

Seeker adjusted his monocle and said calmly:
"Moreover, our next offensive will indeed require training of elite troops like the assault battalion."

He pointed to the jagged defensive lines around Paris on the map, his expression somewhat serious.

"The Gauls have filled in their colony troops that they urgently brought back to their homeland. Although they are a motley crew, their will to resist is surprisingly strong." "Our vanguard has been stalled on several fronts and we now need a powerful strike force, like a sharp scalpel, to cut through their defenses."

"I see."

Mackensen nodded; he certainly knew what his old partner meant.

The Gaulish colonial forces dug extensive trenches on their way to Gaul and, having learned their lesson, also deployed large anti-aircraft magic devices to the front lines.

This also limited the attacks of armored airships, preventing them from flying over enemy positions and firing at will like they could in Amiens.

Therefore, the offensive of the First Army Group is indeed showing signs of being hindered by trench after trench.

In addition, the Brittany Expeditionary Force was also watching their flanks, which forced General Mackensen to detach a portion of his troops to protect his flanks.

Thinking of this, he looked at Seeker: "What did the General Staff say about the transfer of the training assault battalion?"

"It has been approved."

Seekert replied:

"I just received a telegram from the rear at noon. The General Staff has approved your application and officially transferred the First Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard from the Second Army Group to our First Army Group."

"That's good." General Mackensen breathed a sigh of relief.

"However, you'll have to personally go and talk to General Bilo and try to take such a capable unit from him. I'm afraid he'll have mixed feelings about it."

“I’ll handle it,” Mackensen nodded.

In fact, as soon as the Battle of Amiens ended, he immediately sent a telegram to the General Staff, specifically requesting the reassignment of the training assault battalion.

After the General Staff gave their approval, they immediately notified General Bilo, the commander of the Second Army.

Meanwhile, at the Second Army headquarters in the direction of Saint-Quentin, General Billo's mood was indeed as Seeckt had predicted: a mixture of joy and sorrow, a complex mix of emotions.

When the General Staff's transfer order was officially delivered to him, he breathed a long sigh of relief, feeling as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

The First Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard is a very special unit.

Its commander, Captain Friedrich Morin, has two powerful figures behind him: the Crown Prince and General Mackensen. His interpersonal relationships are frighteningly complex.

Commanding such a force is like holding a hot potato; if done well, it's a great achievement, but if something goes wrong, the consequences are unimaginable.

Now that Mackensen has taken the initiative to take over the troops, General Bilo can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

On the other hand, the thought of the training assault battalion's insanely powerful combat capabilities made General Bilo feel a pang of heartache.

The performance of this unit at the Liège fortress complex and Charleroi was nothing short of legendary on the battlefield.

With them around, it feels like even the toughest challenges can be overcome.

Now that his best knife is going to be transferred away, how could he not feel heartbroken?

"General, orders from the General Staff." The adjutant cautiously reminded him, noticing General Bilo's unpredictable expression.

"understood."

General Bilo sighed, waved his hand, and said in a tone full of helplessness and reluctance.

"Reply to the First Army Group, saying that our unit will resolutely obey the orders of the General Staff and wish the First Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard to achieve new merits under General Mackensen's command."

After saying that, he seemed to have all his strength drained away and slumped back into his chair.

"What a pity, what a real pity."

Just as the commanders of the two army groups were engaged in 'friendly negotiations' regarding the ownership of the teaching assault battalion, the instigator, Morin, finally received the order he had been longing for.

On September 1, exactly one month after the start of the war, a messenger ran breathlessly into the medical tent and handed over an order stamped with the wax seal of the First Army Headquarters.

"Captain Morin, orders from headquarters to immediately return to your original unit and prepare for a new combat mission!"

Morin snatched the order, read it carefully twice, and finally breathed a sigh of relief after confirming that it was correct.

"Great! Finally, we can leave the rear! If we stay idle like this, we'll get sick from boredom."

Soon, a doctor from the field hospital came over to give Morin a final physical examination.

"The wound is healing very well, Captain Morin."

After examining Morin's wounds, the military medic, whose hair was already somewhat gray, nodded in satisfaction.

"You young people are so healthy, you recover so quickly. But I still have to remind you to avoid strenuous exercise, especially movements that strain your waist, for the next two weeks."

"Okay, doctor, thank you." Morin replied with a smile while buttoning his uniform, his mind already flying to the training assault battalion's camp.

Because just yesterday, Kleist told him some good news.

The 75.8mm grenade launcher and flamethrower equipment he had previously applied for have been arriving in recent days.

(End of this chapter)