Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 258 The Final Offensive (Combined Chapter)

On the ground, Morin withdrew his gaze.

He had witnessed the brief aerial skirmish that had just taken place.

Although he thought that using pistols and rifles for aerial combat was too primitive, he was also pondering a question.

What if the aviation industry in this world could develop and the performance of aircraft could be continuously improved, reaching the level of those 'doomsday pistons' in another world in a short period of time?

Is it possible for these faster and more agile fighter jets to wrest control of the skies from armored airships and mages?
The thought flashed through Morin's mind for a moment, but he suppressed it for the time being.

Right now, the most important thing is the upcoming decisive attack.

Command of the Sixth Gallic Army.

The newly appointed commander and Paris garrison commander, General Joseph Simon Gallieri, was looking solemnly at the aerial reconnaissance photos that had just been sent back from the front.

The photos weren't very clear, but they were enough for him to see the unusual movements on the Saxon positions.

A large number of artillery pieces were converging on a narrow front, and countless soldiers surged like ants in the trenches.

All of this points to one conclusion—the Saxons are preparing to launch an unprecedented all-out offensive.

“They’re going all in,” Gallieri said hoarsely, slamming the photograph on the table.

The continuous days of bloody battle had left the gray-haired old general exhausted.

The bravery of the Gallic soldiers was beyond question, but the Saxon offensive was simply too fierce, like a tireless tide, wave after wave.

Kree's defenses were barely held up by the sheer blood and flesh of his soldiers.

"General, can we send more reinforcements to the Krei region?! If the Saxons break through here, the consequences will be unimaginable!" an advisor said anxiously.

"Reinforcements? Do we still have reinforcements?"

Gallieri shook his head and sighed deeply.

"The Sixth Army has already filled in all its mobile units, and those civilians temporarily conscripted from Paris and the surrounding areas, who haven't even gotten used to handling guns yet, are you expecting them to go up and fight Saxon veterans with bayonets?"

The command post was deathly silent.

Everyone knew that what the general said was true.

The old general has tried every possible means to defend Paris.

"Let's use the last of our strength." Gallieni remained silent for a long time before finally making up his mind.

"General, you mean the 'sentinel unit'?" The chief of staff looked surprised.

Like the Brittanyans, the Gauls also had their own mage units.

However, unlike the Britannian Highland mages who usually stayed in their mage towers, the Gauls' 'Sentinel Force' was a field mage force that participated in tactical training on a daily basis.

These battlefield mages may not be at the highest rank, but in terms of tactical proficiency, they far surpass the 'academic' mage tower.

The main force of the 'Sentinel Corps' was mostly on the southern battlefield, while the remaining part served as the last line of defense for Paris.

Gallieri doesn't want to use them lightly unless absolutely necessary, but now...
"The Saxons have a knife to our throats; now is the last resort."

Gallieri's eyes hardened.

"Have the 'sentinel units' in the Paris region depart now and be deployed to the front lines in Creil as quickly as possible."

"Yes, General!"

"Furthermore, immediately send a telegram to Commander-in-Chief General Joffre, informing him of the situation here and requesting that he communicate with the Britannians. Immediately! At once! Launch an attack on the Saxons' flank! We are about to collapse!"
-
Headquarters of the Holy Britannian Empire Expeditionary Force.

Commander-in-Chief Sir John French put down the telegram in his hand, picked up the black tea on the table, and slowly took a sip.

"The Gauls are about to give out, gentlemen."

He put down his teacup and spoke to the staff officers in the tent, his tone completely calm.

"Should we proceed with the agreed-upon attack on the flank of the First Saxon Army?" a young officer asked.

“Attack? Of course we should attack.” John French smiled. “But not now.”

He stood up, walked to the map, and pointed in Kree's direction with his baton:
"Let the Gauls bleed more. When they and the Saxons are both exhausted, that will be the best time for the warriors of our Holy Britannian Empire to come out and save the day."

"But Commander, if we stand by and watch them die, what will happen after the war?"

"After the war?" French interrupted him. "As long as we win, we'll write history. As for the Gauls, they should thank us; we saved them, shouldn't they?"

The Britannian officers inside the tent exchanged glances and smiled knowingly.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere was quite different in the command post of the First Saxon Army.

Mackensen and Seekert, the two army group's top commanders, barely slept a wink all night.

They were unaware of the Britannians' plan to "sit back and watch the tigers fight," and could only consider the worst-case scenario.

Both of them were well aware that the battle that followed had reached the level of a decisive battle.

Success will ensure your name is etched in history, and a single battle will determine the fate of the world.

If they are defeated, the entire army will be wiped out, and they will become sinners of the empire.

"General, all the artillery commanders involved in the bombardment have arrived," a staff officer reported as he entered.

“Let them in,” Mackensen said in a deep voice.

Soon, dozens of artillery officers entered the command tent.

As the staff officers of the army group headquarters explained the plans, they all gasped in shock as they looked at the densely packed artillery plans on the map.

"My God, this is insane!"

An artillery colonel couldn't help but whisper:

"How is it possible to conduct such a high-density artillery bombardment on a single point in such a short period of time, while also achieving precise fire coverage?"

"Who came up with this insane battle plan?"

"He was supposed to be an infantry officer who would participate in the front-line offensive?"

"His brain must have been kicked by a donkey."

An army group staff officer overheard their discussion and said coldly:
"The infantry officer who proposed this plan was Captain Friedrich Morin, the battalion commander of the 1st Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard. Moreover, when the artillery fire extended, he would personally lead his soldiers as the first to charge."

The artillery officers' complaints stopped abruptly.

"Is this Captain Morin?"

"So it was him. That's not surprising."

"Alright, enough with the nonsense! Let's check our watches!"

The army group staff officer who spoke interrupted them, then took out his pocket watch, and the other artillery officers also took out their watches and pocket watches.

Everyone knew this would be a dangerous artillery support mission, and no one dared to be careless in order to avoid significant timing errors.

Meanwhile, Morin was unaware of these events unfolding in the command center.

The 48-hour temporary training ended quickly. Looking at the commandos in front of him, who were still clumsy in their movements but had gained more confidence in their eyes, he felt a mix of emotions.

Everything he could do has been done.

The rest was up to fate and the accuracy of the Saxon artillery.

The First Army Group had no second chance.

If this offensive fails, or fails to achieve the strategic objective of a breakthrough, the Saxon troops, stuck in a stalemate, will face endless counterattacks from the Gauls without sufficient artillery support.

Just thinking about such a scene sends chills down one's spine.

But they had no other choice.

The conventional approach is to slowly whittle down the opponent's health, eventually wearing them down until they are defeated by Kree's defenses.

While the 'assault group tactic' is extremely risky, it is the only key that can unlock the door to victory in the shortest amount of time.

At that moment, Morin felt the pressure on his shoulders was so heavy that he could hardly breathe.

This is no longer just about the outcome of a single battle. It concerns the life and death of hundreds of thousands of soldiers in the First Army, and even the course of the entire war.

The tactics he proposed have been unwittingly pushed to the forefront of determining the course of history.

On the eve of the attack, at dinner time, Morin, who had little appetite, sat on an ammunition box, watching the soldiers around him eat their rare and plentiful dinner, while his mind raced through every detail of the entire battle plan.

The selection of the breakthrough point, the timing of artillery preparation, the coordination of infantry and artillery, the organization of the assault force, the follow-up of the follow-up forces, the support of armored knights, and the suppression by armored airships.
Every link in the First Army Group must not have any major mistakes.

He looked up at the sky; dark clouds obscured the moon, and only a few stars stubbornly twinkled.

Tomorrow, this place will be a river of blood.

Maureen didn't know if he would survive, nor how many of his young men would be able to see the Paris sun.

But he knew they had no way out.

We must win this battle.

August 9, early morning.

As dawn broke, the Saxon positions on the front lines of Krei were already fully awake.

The usual deathly silence and despair were gone from the air; in its place was a restlessness suppressed to the extreme, like the calm before a volcanic eruption.

All combat units of the assault group, codenamed 'Sharp Blade,' silently entered the designated assault trenches under the hushed urging of officers and sergeants.

Eric tightened his grip on the Gew.98 rifle; the cold steel steadyed his trembling hand, which was shaking slightly from tension.

His assault unit was positioned in the center of the first wave of attacks.

He only needed to look ahead to see the backs of the training assault battalion soldiers wearing helmets without peaks and covered in all sorts of strange equipment.

This gave him a sense of peace.

But when he saw other figures, his heart started racing again.

They were a group of unusually tall soldiers, wearing heavy, full-body metal plate armor and carrying weapons even larger than MG14 light machine guns.

Their helmets completely covered their faces, leaving only a narrow slit through which cold eyes could be seen.

"It's the General's Guard!" Eric heard the veteran beside him exclaim in a low voice.

The General's Guard is a small, heavily armed force in the Saxon Army.

It is said that each of them was an elite selected from the entire army and was the general's most loyal bodyguard.

Their plate armor could withstand most rifle fire, while their weapons could easily tear apart any enemy who dared to stand in their way.

Eric had only seen them in the propaganda posters when he enlisted, but he never imagined that he would be fighting alongside these elite units today.

But what shocked him even more was yet to come.

Behind the general's guard stood another group of people.

They wore a more extensive armor, and at the joints, one could see intricate mechanical structures and shimmering magic wires.

They carried no firearms, but simply rested their massive knightly swords or warhammers on the ground.

"Good heavens! Those are squires of the Teutonic Knights!"

"They're here too! Instead of joining the armored knights, they're attacking with us?!"

A barely suppressed commotion arose from the crowd.

If the general's guard is the elite among mortals, then these knight attendants wearing magically powered armor are on an even higher level.

They are the true Teutonic Knights of the future, each possessing strength and speed far exceeding that of ordinary people.

Eric felt his breathing become rapid.

General's Guard, Knight's Squire, Training Assault Battalion
The command post actually concentrated so many elite troops on this small breakthrough point!

He finally realized that this was no ordinary attack.

This is the final battle.

Morin, along with the soldiers of the 1st Platoon of the 1st Company of the Training Assault Battalion, huddled in the foremost trench where the assault began, and naturally saw these troops as well.

He knew very well that General Mackensen was going "all in," and he and Seeker bet all their cards on the table at once.

Morin glanced at the watch worn backwards on his wrist; there were still two minutes until the scheduled start time of the shelling.

He could feel the tension in the air around him, a tension that seemed almost tangible.

Even the battle-hardened soldiers of the training assault battalion were mostly silent at this moment, quietly checking their weapons and ammunition.

The assault team members who were transferred from other units were so nervous that their faces turned pale, and many of them were praying quietly.

In the suffocating silence, it was exactly 6:00 AM. "BOOM—!!!"

Behind them, on the Saxon artillery positions, hundreds of cannons roared simultaneously!

The earth began to tremble violently, and countless shells, with a piercing whistle that tore through the air, ripped through the morning mist and crashed into the Gauls' positions like a meteor shower!

Massive artillery bombardment has begun!

This made everyone even more nervous, because it meant that the attack would not be canceled, and they would launch an attack on the enemy's position as soon as the time came.

"Battalion Commander, do you want to say something?"

Manstein, also fully armed, leaned close to Morin and asked in a low voice:

"Everyone seems a little too nervous."

"Forget it, even though the shells landed far away, the noise was still quite loud. No one else can hear what I'm saying here anyway," Morin shook his head.

However, no sooner had he finished speaking than a captain from the 42nd Infantry Regiment next to him seemed to have overheard their conversation. His eyes lit up, and he immediately turned and ran away.

A short while later, the captain came running back, panting, carrying a strange object that looked like a microphone with a long wire attached to the back.

"Captain Morin! Please use this!"

The captain handed the megaphone to Morin and said excitedly:

"This is the broadcast we used to shout at the Gauls, but we stopped using it because it was too loud and they kept targeting it with their artillery. The cable is still in place, and the whole attack position can hear it!"

Looking at the megaphone in his hand, Morin was both amused and exasperated, and his tense mood dissipated considerably.

He never expected that these guys would hide such a thing on the battlefield.

Now there's no way to keep quiet.
Morin could feel that everyone's eyes were focused on him.

Those who trained the assault battalion soldiers, those temporary assault team members, and even those proud general's guards and knights' squires.

Their eyes held a complex mix of anticipation, curiosity, and trust.

These soldiers, about to participate in the attack, were all waiting for him, waiting for this legendary instructor of the assault battalion to say something in the final moments before the decisive battle.

Morin sighed and had no choice but to bite the bullet and raise the megaphone in his hand.

What should I say?

Inspiring rhetoric? Promises of wealth and glory after victory?
His mind went blank.

As a military academy student from a peaceful era, he was really not good at this kind of pre-battle mobilization.

Just as he was about to say something casually, a passage of text, deeply engraved in his soul and belonging to another world, suddenly popped out of his mind uncontrollably.

He cleared his throat and pressed the switch.

"Zi-"

After a burst of electrical noise, his clear and powerful voice echoed in the ears of all the soldiers about to set off, through every loudspeaker spread throughout the two-kilometer-long assault trench.

The distant rumble of explosions from the Gallic positions became the background noise of his speech.

"Gentlemen, I am Friedrich Morin, the battalion commander of the 1st Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard, and I will be leading you in this attack."

The trench fell silent instantly, and everyone pricked up their ears.

"I know that our previous attacks have all failed. We have suffered heavy casualties and are exhausted. We can only rest and pray beside our fallen comrades."

His voice was calm, without the slightest incitement, simply stating a fact that everyone has experienced.

But it was precisely this tranquility that made every soldier feel the same way, and a pang of sorrow welled up in their hearts.

"But I also know that as long as the Saxon soldiers have a breath left, they will not give up!"

Morin's voice suddenly rose in pitch!
"Although we have lost many comrades, the iron blood that gives us strength still flows in our veins! It is the iron blood that our predecessors forged in victory and glory in Sedan and Sadowa!"

"Today, we will prove it again here!"

"The training assault battalion will be your spearhead, thrown into this final offensive! I will be the first to leap out of the trenches, paving the way to victory for you!"

"Gentlemen! Look around you! The Gauls have run out of soldiers! They can only fill their trenches with soldiers from their colonies and civilians they have temporarily conscripted! Their resistance is at its last gasp!"

"For the Empire!"

It's unclear which soldier in which trench was the first to shout it out.

Immediately afterwards, a deafening roar erupted from every corner of the trench!
"For the Empire!!"

"For the Emperor!!"

"For the land under the sun!!"

All the soldiers' faces were flushed with excitement. They raised their weapons high and roared with all their might.

The pent-up frustration, anger, and desire for victory that had been suppressed for so long were ignited at this moment!

In that instant, their voices seemed to drown out the distant explosions.

At the same time, Morin's almost fanatical voice was once again broadcast throughout the entire position!

"Saxon warriors! Do not fear death! Defeat is more terrible than death!"

"Victory is within reach! The Black Eagle of the Empire will surely fly over Paris!"

"charge!!!"

“Beep!!!!”

The sharp whistles of the charge sounded simultaneously from all parts of the trenches!
With the sound of whistles and the roar of soldiers, Morin was the first to roll over and leap out of the trench!

Immediately afterwards, countless figures in gray from the wilderness surged out of the trenches like a flood bursting its banks, launching a desperate charge towards the hellish area completely covered by artillery fire!

A war correspondent, hiding behind a bunker in the trench, trembled as he recorded this historic moment with his camera.

Meanwhile, in the concealed positions dug in the second trench behind.

Grand Commander Leonia von Foltis personally led thirty 'Siegfried Type 1' armored knights, also activating their hybrid engines, and the massive steel bodies began to move forward.

Their goal was to eliminate any possible Gallic armored cavalry, clearing the final obstacle for the infantry breakthrough.

This was the first time Morin had truly charged forward under the fire of his own side.

The deafening explosions rang out not far ahead, each one causing the earth to tremble violently.

The flying dirt fell around them like raindrops, making a "pitter-patter" sound.

He could feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and his adrenaline soaring to its peak.

Morin was praying silently.

I pray that the artillerymen in the rear won't mess things up at this critical juncture.

We pray that they will follow the plan precisely and extend the artillery fire inland before they reach the Gauls' positions.

Every second they were a second later, those at the forefront were in greater danger of being blown up by their own people.

Every second earlier the Gauls were, the more time they had to recover from the shock of the artillery fire and climb the breastwork to set up their machine guns.

Morin didn't look back, but he could hear thunderous footsteps and deafening shouts behind him.

He knew that thousands of Saxony’s most elite soldiers were following behind him, entrusting their lives to him and to this insane plan.

He cannot fail.

The First Army Group cannot afford to fail.

"Keep going! Don't stop! Follow me!"

As Morin ran, he shouted to the soldiers around him.

This was also the standard procedure for all officers leading assaults on the front lines; they had to ensure that the soldiers knew their location so that no one would lose their bearings during the assault.

The distance is getting closer.

Two hundred meters!
One hundred meters!

Fifty meters!
Morin could clearly see the barbed wire that had been bombed to pieces in front of the Gauls' position, and further away, the first trench that had been repeatedly razed by artillery fire and was almost completely leveled.

Eric, on the other hand, felt like his lungs were about to explode.

He had never run so fast before; at this moment, he could only move his legs mechanically, his mind blank.

He couldn't hear any sound; all he could hear was his own heavy breathing, like a bellows, and the frantic pounding of his heart.

Eric saw the figure ahead from under the helmet brim—Captain Morin, the first to leap out of the trench and lead their charge.

That figure was like a lighthouse in the darkness, guiding them towards the sea of ​​fire where the shelling had not yet ceased.

However, when they were only about twenty meters away from the first trench of the Gauls, a miracle happened.

The barrage of artillery fire, which had been raining down on the Gauls' first trench, suddenly seemed to be controlled by an invisible hand, and suddenly extended backward in unison!
"Boom--!"

Even more violent explosions rang out from deep within the Gauls' positions.

That was the Saxon artillery, which began to bombard the Gauls' second and third trenches, as well as their reserve assembly areas.

"Success!"

Morin was overjoyed! At the same time, he breathed a sigh of relief.
These artillerymen, thankfully, didn't let us down at the crucial moment.

"Come in!"

He roared and was the first to rush through the gap in the blasted barbed wire. He then charged a few more steps before leaping into the Gauls' first trench.

A strong, acrid smell of burning and blood instantly filled his nostrils.

This can no longer be called a trench.

The once deep ravines were blasted beyond recognition by countless 105mm howitzer shells.

The trench walls on both sides had long since collapsed, and everywhere there were scorched earth and charred corpses.

There wasn't a single living person.

Under a barrage of intense artillery fire lasting twenty minutes, the Gallic soldiers stationed in the trench, along with their fortifications and weapons, were completely wiped from the face of the earth.

But Morin didn't stop at all.

"Leave a group of men to hold this position! Clear the trenches on both sides! Prevent the enemy from reinforcing from the flanks!"

"Everyone else! Follow me! Continue the attack on the second line of defense!"

After giving the order, he stepped on the soft, unidentified object mixed with mud and bits of flesh and continued charging deeper into the trench.

Immediately afterwards, Eric and countless Saxon soldiers surged into the trench shrouded in death.

Many of them were seeing such a horrific sight for the first time.

But they had no time to be afraid, nor time to vomit.

Under the reprimands and instruction of the officers, the assault battalion soldiers quickly followed the battle plan, with some staying behind to build defenses.

The other group followed closely in Morin's footsteps, continuing their assault on the Gauls' second line of defense through the bombed-out trenches.

The breakthrough process went more smoothly than anyone had imagined.

When they reached the second trench, they found that the situation there was almost identical to that of the first trench.

Although the resistance was slightly stronger than that of the first trench, it consisted only of scattered, shaken survivors of the shelling.

They didn't even have time to put up an effective resistance before they were overwhelmed by bullets from the Saxon soldiers who rushed up after them.

The third trench was the same.

Hundreds of artillery pieces, comprising the entire army group and even a portion of the Second Army Group, unleashed an astonishing number of shells at this narrow breach in just twenty minutes.

This unprecedented density of firepower exhibits devastating destructive power.

It almost completely destroyed all the exposed fortifications and manpower along this two-kilometer-long breach.

In less than half an hour, the 'Sharp Blade' assault group had successfully broken through the Gauls' Cree defense line, which consisted of three trenches!

This victory has far surpassed all the progress made by the First Army Group in the past few days, despite suffering tens of thousands of casualties!
The joy of victory began to spread among the soldiers of the assault group.

They continued their advance, spreading out their ranks to consolidate their captured positions, while wondering to themselves whether the Gauls had already been wiped out by the artillery behind them.

Perhaps, they really can press on and win this battle in one fell swoop!
However, just as everyone was immersed in this sudden victory, Morin, who was at the forefront, suddenly became serious.

Because on his system map, in the vast area representing the rear of the Gauls' position, countless red soldier markers indicating 'severe damage' were surging towards them in a dense, frenzied manner!

At the same time, a series of urgent and mournful bell tolls came from the deepest part of the Gauls' position.

That was the signal for the Gauls to launch a desperate counterattack!
The real battle has only just begun!
(End of this chapter)