Chapter 11: First Contact

A quarter of an hour later, Morin, with Klaus’s assistance, assembled the entire platoon.

The soldiers had checked their weapons and ammunition, shouldered their packs, and stood silently in three-column formations by squad, awaiting the next instructions.

During this brief pause, Morin developed a new use for the ‘Cheat Code’ in his mind. He found he could shrink the detailed battlefield map and fix it in the upper-left corner of his field of vision in a semi-transparent form. It was like having a real-time minimap while playing an RTS game or Battlefield. While this temporarily prevented him from switching to other tabs like ‘Intelligence’ or ‘Information,’ the benefits were obvious. He could monitor the dynamics of both friendly and enemy forces on the battlefield at any time without worrying about external events forcing the entire system interface to shut down.

“Platoon Leader, the company is starting to move.” Klaus’s voice pulled Morin’s attention back to reality.

“Move out.” Without unnecessary words, Morin gave the simple command and led his 3rd Platoon toward the positions of the other two platoons and Company Command.

The sun had not yet risen, only showing a faint glow below the horizon, and the light in the woods remained dim. The soldiers’ boots crunched on fallen branches and leaves, the sound mixing with the clinking of equipment to form the characteristic rhythm of a march.

They quickly reached the 3rd Company’s assembly area. Captain Hauser stood at the front of the column, and the other two platoons were already formed up behind him. Morin directed his men to quickly join the end of the line. A tall, serious-looking Company First Sergeant quickly marched up to Captain Hauser, stood at attention, and reported.

“All present, sir!”

“Thank you, First Sergeant!” Hauser nodded, then walked to the front of the company and stood firm. “All Company! Center align! Quick March!”

The Company First Sergeant took his place behind the Company Commander, while the other Company Command officers immediately moved to the flanks of the column, repeating the orders and maintaining the marching formation.

“Left, Right, Left! Left, Right, Left!”

The nearly two hundred men of the company, excluding the baggage train, once again became a silent gray serpent under the commands of the officers and NCOs, moving quietly toward the designated attack preparation position.

After about ten minutes of marching, the column halted behind a thicket of low bushes. This was 3rd Company’s holding area and their attack preparation position as the 1st Battalion reserve.

Through the gaps in the brush, Morin could clearly see the open ground ahead. The 1st Company soldiers had already deployed into three skirmish lines approximately 150 meters wide. Of course, this was different from Morin’s understanding of a skirmish line, but for late-linear-era combat, this formation—with 1–2 meters between soldiers—was considered a skirmish line. Behind them was the 2nd Company, arrayed in a dense company column. As the unit tasked with rapid penetration once a gap was opened, the 2nd Company’s rifle muzzles already had bayonets fixed, reflecting cold gleams in the rising dawn.

The whole scene was terrifyingly quiet; only the sighing of the wind across the open ground could be heard.

Morin glanced at the pocket watch Captain Hauser had lent him. The silver hands were steadily ticking toward 05:07.

The moment the clock hit the mark, the surrounding oppressive silence was instantly ripped apart by a piercing shriek. A single registration shell soared across the sky and exploded just outside San Isidro village in the distance, sending up a column of black smoke. On the map in the upper-left corner of Morin’s vision, the artillery position icon flashed, and a red parabolic line landed precisely on the edge of the village.

Immediately after, the second registration shell fell, this one closer to the center of the village.

Registration was complete.

The next second, the entire sky seemed to be filled with the shrieking of shells. The Field Artillery Battalion’s twelve FK.96n/A 77mm Field Guns began rapid fire. Although they were only small-caliber field guns, their concentrated volley still displayed terrifying destructive power. The explosions merged into one continuous roar, and San Isidro village was instantly engulfed in smoke and dust. Earth, gravel, and roof tiles were tossed high into the air, only to rain down again. The ‘God of War’ had bared its fangs in this moment.

After three rounds of rapid fire, the shelling abruptly ceased. The battlefield once again fell into a momentary dead silence.

Morin could feel the heavy breathing of the soldiers next to him. Many showed excited expressions. In their minds, such a fierce artillery preparation was sufficient to completely shatter the morale of the Aragon peasant soldiers in the village.

The instant the shelling stopped, a sharp whistle cut through the battlefield’s stillness. This was the signal to advance.

Outside the brush, the 1st Company’s three skirmish lines began to slowly move forward. The soldiers marched with unified, deliberate steps, their Gew.98 rifles held horizontally at the chest, muzzles pointing directly toward the smoke-shrouded village ahead. Their movement was not fast, but every step was steady and strong, and the entire formation maintained perfect order during the advance. The discipline of this army was on full display.

When the 1st Company’s skirmish line had advanced about a hundred meters, the 2nd Company behind them began to move. The soldiers, arranged in a dense company column, followed at the same pace under the commands of their officers. They did not deploy, but maintained their tight formation, ready to charge with maximum impact the moment the 1st Company breached the enemy lines.

The rising sun cast a golden glow upon the open ground, illuminating the spikes on the soldiers’ helmets and the rows of cold, glinting bayonets fixed to their rifle muzzles. A gray wave of attack, consisting of 360 soldiers, silently surged toward San Isidro village.

The entire process was eerily quiet. Apart from the rustle of boots and the occasional whispered command from an officer, there was no other sound.

Morin crouched behind the brush, his heart involuntarily tightening. On the minimap in the upper-left corner of his vision, the blue icons representing the 1st and 2nd Companies were steadily approaching the gray rhombus marking the unknown enemy force.

Everything seemed to be going exactly as Captain Hauser had predicted. The defenders in the village appeared truly terrified by the intense barrage and were cowering in the ruins, afraid to show themselves.

The 1st and 2nd Companies quickly covered half the distance, encountering no resistance whatsoever. Morin even noticed some 3rd Company soldiers next to him relaxing and talking in low voices, as if they felt the battle was already over. Company Commander Hauser also had a relaxed smile on his face; he even took out his pipe and tapped it on his boot heel, preparing to enjoy the calm before victory.

However, this atmosphere of optimism did not last long.

Just as the forward skirmish line of the 1st Company was less than two hundred meters from the village perimeter, a dense burst of gunfire suddenly erupted from the ruins of the village. Several sprays of blood immediately appeared on the 1st Company’s skirmish line; several soldiers dropped and writhed in pain on the ground. The alerted defenders had begun to fight back.

The attacking column was momentarily thrown into a minor commotion by the sudden assault, but this was quickly suppressed by the whistles and shouts of the NCOs.

“Halt! Present Arms!”

“Aim!”

“Fire!”

Following the sharp whistle of the First Sergeant and the officers’ commands, the 1st Company’s skirmish line halted in unison, dropped to one knee, and raised their rifles. Then, they pulled the triggers toward the direction of the gunfire.

After a dense volley of rifle fire, the volume of fire from the village edge noticeably diminished.

“Continue the advance!”

The soldiers rose again, advancing with their rifles aimed. The sequence of halt, aim, fire, charge repeated over the next few dozen meters. Although soldiers were constantly hit and falling, the overall momentum of the company’s attack was not significantly affected. Relying on the discipline born of their rigorous training and the accurate volleys from their Gew.98 rifles, they managed to suppress the defensive fire from the village for a time. The scales of victory still seemed to be tipping in favor of the Saxons.

But Morin was completely unable to relax. All his attention was focused on the small map in the upper-left corner of his vision.

Just now, a brand new red icon had abruptly lit up on the outer defensive line of San Isidro village, coinciding with the approach of the 1st and 2nd Company soldiers.

[Kingdom of Aragon Army – Vickers machine gun emplacement]

(End of Chapter 11)