Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 68 The Anglo-French Allied Forces Attack, Devastating News from the Front Lines

"Hoffmann's class is disbanded! Hansband stays!" Hermann shouted.

Soon, Hoffmann's group began to disband, and before they did, they all looked on with schadenfreude at Hans's group led by Lu Mingfei.

Seven weeks had passed since Caesar's report to Herman. During these seven weeks, Herman was still their instructor, but he treated the two classes differently.

The training intensity of Hoffmann's class, led by Caesar, was basically the same as that of the other platoons. Although it was not easy, it was still within an acceptable range. After a day of training, they still had the energy to tidy up their barracks, polish their belts and boots, chat, and write letters to their families.

However, Hermann tried every means to find fault with Hansband, led by Lu Mingfei, and then gave them extra training.

Lu Mingfei and his team could basically fall asleep with their eyes closed after a day of training.

Caesar calmly nodded slightly in Hermann's direction, then turned and led Hoffmann's squad of soldiers away from the training ground to eat with clear commands.

After Caesar left with all the members of Hoffmann's class, Herman shouted loudly at Lu Mingfei and the others.

"Now empty your water bottles completely!"

Lu Mingfei and the others immediately opened the water bottles at their waists and poured out the water. Soon, the sound of rushing water could be heard, but some of the soldiers emptied their water bottles faster than the others.

Herman immediately shoved the soldiers in front of him and began berating them: "What's wrong with you bunch of pigs! Where's the water in your canteens! Didn't I forbid you from drinking water while running?!"

The soldiers were pale, including Bruckner, who trembled as he replied, "Sergeant Major—I—I was so thirsty—I secretly drank a little—"

"Thirsty? What do you do when you're thirsty on the battlefield? Ask the enemy for water?" Hermann snatched Bruckner's water bottle and sneered.

"Hansban, stand at attention! Because of these idiots, you all have to run another ten kilometers! I'll be watching you! If I catch you trying to cheat, it'll be another ten kilometers!"

"Yes!" Lu Mingfei immediately stood up straight and said.

Just as Herman was about to ride his horse to follow Lu Mingfei and the others, a messenger ran over to report.

"Report, Sergeant Major, the company commander wants to see you!"

Hermann frowned, glancing at Hansband, who was preparing to leave for punishment, then at the messenger: "Now?"

"Yes, Sergeant Major, the company commander said it's an emergency and he needs you to come immediately."

Hermann paused for a moment, then turned to Lu Mingfei: "Hans, you lead them in a 10-kilometer cross-country run. You know the route. I hope you'll behave yourselves."

"Yes, sir!" Lu Mingfei answered loudly.

Hermann stared at him for a few more seconds, his eyes seeming to hold a message, but in the end he simply waved his hand: "Go. Remember, on the battlefield, accidents always disrupt plans. Commanders must learn to maintain discipline and mission in such situations."

After saying that, he turned and left the training ground with the messenger.

The Hansband soldiers exchanged bewildered glances. Hermann was gone? Did that mean they could sneak off a shorter route? Or perhaps take a break along the way?

But Lu Mingfei's voice shattered their illusions: "Everyone! Right turn! Run, march!"

The column began to move.

As Otto ran closer to Lu Mingfei, he lowered his voice and said, "Class monitor—Herman isn't here—could we—"

"What do you think? —" Lu Mingfei glared at him fiercely, and Otto could only return to his original position dejectedly.

Just then, Bruckner ran up again and whispered, "Sorry, class monitor—"

"It's alright, just don't do it again next time. There's no time to give you water when you're charging or running away on the battlefield," Lu Mingfei said, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Hermann strode towards the company headquarters office, his brow furrowed, pondering the reason for the company commander's urgent summons—a training accident? No, he hadn't used live ammunition in a long time.

An inspection by higher authorities? The timing is also wrong.

Or—what happened at the front?

Pushing open the door to the company commander's office, Herman saw Captain Henrik standing by the window with his back to the door. There was another person in the office, a lieutenant in his thirties wearing a staff uniform, with a very serious expression.

"Report! Sergeant Hermann Strauss has been ordered to come!" Hermann stood at attention and saluted.

Captain Henrik turned around, his face grim, and said, "Hermann, this is Lieutenant Schmidt, the staff officer of the front-line battalion. He has important news to announce."

"Sergeant Hermann, to make a long story short, the situation at the front has changed. The Anglo-French forces have launched a large-scale offensive in the Champagne and Artois regions, and our troops have suffered heavy casualties and urgently need reinforcements," Lieutenant Schmidt said.

"All the platoons in the training camp will be sent to the front line the day after tomorrow, not as reserves to supplement other units, but as a complete unit, led by Captain Henrik to hold a defensive line."

"The day after tomorrow?" Herman could hardly believe his ears.

"But they've only received eight weeks of training, and they haven't even mastered basic tactics! The essentials of trench warfare, how to deal with poison gas attacks, the procedures for night patrols—"

"We don't have time, Sergeant Major," Lieutenant Schmidt interrupted him.

"People are dying on the front lines every day. What we need are people who can hold a gun, not perfect soldiers."

Captain Henrik, his face grim, added, "Hermann, this is an order. All the training camps have received the same notification. We really are going to the front lines."

Upon receiving the order, he immediately used his connections to try to avoid going to the front lines, but the Anglo-French forces had committed 35 divisions, totaling nearly 100,000 men.

Moreover, it deployed more than 2,500 artillery pieces, many of which were heavy artillery pieces, which was almost the largest artillery force that the French army could currently organize.

These artillery pieces inflicted devastating damage on the Prussian front. The front lines were penetrated by three or four kilometers, and more than 20,000 people were captured. Now, a large number of new recruits had to be sent up to fill the gaps. No one could escape, not even a nobleman like him who got in through connections.

"Sergeant Major, I understand how you feel, but this is war, and sometimes we can only do our best," Lieutenant Schmidt said, patting Hermann on the shoulder.

"I understand. Are there any other instructions?" Hermann replied in a hoarse voice.

"Due to the urgency of the situation, the battalion headquarters is unable to assign you so many junior non-commissioned officers. You have the authority to temporarily appoint some junior soldiers as squad leaders and deputy platoon leaders."

"Alright, I have to go to other companies. Good luck to you all," Lieutenant Schmidt said, putting on his cap before opening the door and leaving.

After he left, the office fell into a deathly silence.

Captain Henrik slumped into his chair, his face pale, and said, "Hermann—are we really going to the front lines?"

He was just a gilded aristocrat who stayed in the recruit training camp, drinking tea and reading newspapers every day. He wasn't even very good at shooting and never thought that one day he would actually go to the front line.

"Yes, Captain, we have 36 hours left to prepare." Herman's voice was unusually calm, but his clenched fist betrayed the turmoil in his heart.

"What can we prepare in 36 hours? Teach them how to write a will?" Henrik said with a wry smile.

Herman didn't respond; he didn't know what to say either. It all happened so suddenly.

"Temporarily appoint a basic sergeant. Do you have any candidates in mind? I heard you divided your platoon into two squads, and the squad leader of one of them seems to be Hoffman, the one who reported you. Do you think he is capable of commanding?" Henrik continued to ask.

Herman was the most experienced sergeant in the entire camp, and he needed the other's help, but one experienced junior sergeant wasn't enough. He wanted Caesar, who had come to his office earlier; the guy seemed alright.

"Although Kaiser Hoffmann is a bit too arrogant, he is capable of commanding a squad in battle. However, I have higher hopes for another soldier named William Hans; he is exceptionally talented," Hermann said after a moment of silence.

To be honest, he didn't like Caesar, whose eyes almost reached the top of his head, but he had to admit that this guy named Caesar Hoffmann was very good.

In all his years in the army, he had never met anyone more outstanding than himself. Now that someone was needed to command the battle, Caesar was indeed a good candidate. However, he always had a soft spot for Lu Mingfei, who was the only qualified general in his mind.

"Oh, William Hans? I never thought I'd hear you say someone is so outstanding," Henrik said, somewhat surprised.

"Since you recommended him, let him continue as squad leader. If he performs well in the upcoming battle, I will write him a letter of recommendation so that he can officially become a non-commissioned officer."

"Let's select some soldiers to serve as squad leaders temporarily, and then replace them when the battalion headquarters sends in sergeants."

The two quickly selected a temporary squad leader from among the new recruits.

After Henrik finished taking notes, he put down his pen and asked, "Hermann, how many of you do you think will come back alive?"

This question plunged the room into silence once again.

After a long silence, Herman finally spoke, "Captain, this is not a question I should answer."

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"But I want to know." Henrik's voice trembled slightly.

"I—I've never been to the front lines. I don't know what it's like. Tell me the truth, Herman, how long can we recruits who've only trained for eight weeks last in a place like that?"

Herman turned and looked at the young captain. Henrik's eyes were filled with fear, an instinctive reaction to the unknown.

"Captain, the first time I went to the front was in September 1914, during the Battle of the Marne. Our company had 232 men, and in the end only 23 survived. Seven of them were permanently disabled. They were all professional soldiers who had undergone several years of training. I don't know how many of them will survive in the end."

Hearing this, Henrik's face turned even paler.

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