Hearing the words of the Battalion ssenger, Morin’s heart sank. Orders from the Battalion Command… he didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse.
He instructed Klaus to temporarily take charge of the troops, ensuring they remained vigilant against an enemy counter-attack, and then quickly followed the ssenger toward the small chapel in the center of the village.
Soon, as Morin entered the small chapel, which had been temporarily requisitioned as the Battalion Command post, he imdiately saw his Company Commander, Captain Hauser, and Major Thomas standing with his hands behind his back in front of a long table covered with a map.
The atmosphere in the chapel was sowhat oppressive. Major Thomas’s expression was still very grim; the disastrous casualty report from the morning was clearly weighing heavily on him. Although the village had been successfully captured, the price paid was too steep, and the sharp reduction in his combat strength severely limited his subsequent tactical options.
However, upon seeing Morin enter, he forced himself to adjust his deanor, managing a weak, strained smile. “Second Lieutenant Morin, you’re here.” He pointed to the empty space next to Captain Hauser. “Co over.”
“Major, Captain.” Morin saluted, then stood next to Captain Hauser.
Major Thomas skipped any pleasantries and cut straight to the chase. “We just received a report from the Brigade Command. The assaults by the ‘National Army’ and the ‘International Brigades’ on our flanks are progressing relatively smoothly.”
“The Brigade and Regintal Commands want us to not linger in this village for too long. We must continue the offensive toward Seville as soon as possible.”
Morin and Captain Hauser exchanged a look, both sensing the gravity in the other’s reaction. Major Thomas’s words ant that the brief rest period was about to end, and more brutal fighting lay ahead.
“But before the next attack begins,” Major Thomas’s gaze fell upon Morin, “I need to send a team to conduct penetration reconnaissance of the area directly in front of us.”
At this, the alarm bells rang loudly in Morin’s mind. He realized what his Battalion Commander intended to ask of him. Yet, he was also confused. Although specialized reconnaissance units were not yet common in the army of this period, reconnaissance missions should still typically be handled by seasoned officers. Why seek out a Platoon Leader who had just been assigned to the line?
As if sensing his confusion, Major Thomas sighed, a note of helplessness in his voice. “In this morning’s battle, the officer losses in 1st and 2nd Companies were severe. We don’t have many officers left to spare.”
He paused, looking at Morin with an earnest, hopeful gaze, and continued. “Moreover, your demonstrated judgnt and situational awareness in the fight prove you are better suited for this task than anyone else. I need you to lead a team to figure out what lies ahead. I do not want to see my soldiers run head-first into an enemy machine gun emplacent again.”
After hearing Major Thomas’s reasoning, Morin fell silent. Forward reconnaissance before an offensive—a task clearly high in danger—was one he desperately wanted to avoid. But the problem was that he had already revealed his capabilities in order to survive the morning’s attack. This had earned him the attention of his superiors, and it ant Major Thomas would naturally prioritize him when assigning tasks. This was like a row of toppled dominoes; once the first one falls, the rest are inevitable.
Facing a direct order from his superior, Morin could find no excuse to refuse, nor could he directly disobey.
“Yes, Major! I guarantee the completion of the mission!” Morin, forcing a determined expression, snapped to attention and replied.
“Good! Very good! The Saxon Army needs talent like you!” Major Thomas’s expression softened. He pointed to the operations map on the table, motioning for Morin to pay attention. “Look here. Our Battalion’s next main axis of advance is along this road, pushing northwest. Your mission is to scout this route and the areas within five hundred ters on both sides!”
“I need to know the enemy’s movents, especially whether they have established new defensive positions or set up ambushes.”
Morin did not reply imdiately. Based on what he had learned before his transmigration, he understood that scouting an unknown area should ideally involve his entire platoon to gather effective intelligence for higher units. This would require splitting his platoon into command, reconnaissance, security, rescue, prisoner-handling, and continuous surveillance teams. However, his current unit’s training level did not support such detailed specialization, and the 3rd Platoon was currently essential for the village’s defense.
Therefore, this mission had to be a small-scale, quick-in, quick-out operation—just like sothing out of an action movie.
Realizing this, Morin leaned in and studied the map carefully. He used his finger to trace the route on the map, then checked the scale in the corner, quickly estimating the distance. The reconnaissance route was about ten kiloters round trip, and the terrain along the way was complex, featuring farmland, woods, and a few scattered hamlets. Traveling on foot would be too inefficient and exhausting. Traveling by horse would increase mobility but make them too large a target, easily spotted by the enemy.
“Major,” Morin looked up, “I need to borrow a few of the Battalion’s bicycles.”
“Bicycles?”
“Yes, Major. Bicycles are quiet and fast. They allow us to cross open ground quickly and disengage swiftly if needed. We can ride to a concealed position and then proceed with reconnaissance on foot.”
Major Thomas pondered for a mont, then nodded. “Good idea.” He imdiately picked up a pen and paper from the table, quickly scribbled out an order, and handed it to Morin. “Go to the Baggage Train unit and pick them up. Tell them what you need.”
Morin took the order from Major Thomas. Captain Hauser, standing nearby, patted his shoulder, his eyes showing a mix of encouragent and worry. “Be extra careful, Second Lieutenant Morin.”
“Don’t worry, sir.”
Leaving the temporary command post, Morin quickly returned to the 3rd Platoon’s position. He first pulled Sergeant Klaus aside and briefly explained the reconnaissance mission.
“I need to pick a few n to go with .” Morin lowered his voice. “This mission is not about fighting; it’s about being our eyes and ears. So, we can’t take many n, but they must be good hands.” He planned to take only five n; any more would hinder mobility and increase the risk of detection.
Sergeant Klaus imdiately understood Morin’s intent and nodded. “Sir, do you have any general requirents?”
“Good stamina, accurate marksmanship, and most importantly, they must be quick-witted and keep their cool under pressure.” Morin stated his requirents.
Sergeant Klaus quickly went through a list of n in his mind and soon recomnded several individuals. These included the young Squad Leader who was the first to speak at the post-action review, Corporal Bowman, and three soldiers who had perford exceptionally well in the morning’s attack, remaining calm even in the chaos.
Morin was satisfied with Klaus’s choices. He imdiately gathered the selected n. He skipped any lengthy motivational speeches, simply stating the nature and danger of the mission clearly.
“Our mission is to scout for the main force, not to destroy the enemy! Therefore, concealnt is paramount at all tis! Unless I give the order, you are not to open fire unless you are spotted by the enemy and cannot escape!” Morin scanned each young, determined face seriously.
“Is that clear?”
“Clear, sir!”
(End of Chapter 17)
User Comments
0 comments from readers