Chapter 196: Do You Two Know What ‘Assault Battalion’ Means?

In the Gallic Fifth Army Group temporary headquarters.

When the news arrived that the Saxon Armored Airship had reached Charleroi and, with devastating force, completely crushed the Ninth Division..

General Lanrezac, the Army Group Commander, had locked himself inside the command tent.

This was because, half an hour before this news arrived, he had just learned that the Third Cavalry Division had lost contact…

The staff officers outside the tent could only hear continuous sounds of things being smashed inside, mixed with General Lanrezac’s roars of anger and despair.

“Joffre! You damned butcher! You idiot!”

“My Fifth Army Group! My soldiers! You’ve ruined them all!”

The curses and sounds of smashing continued for a long time before gradually subsiding.

The staff officers outside exchanged nervous glances, none daring to venture inside.

August 11th, Nightfall.

The air in South Charleroi’s streets still carried that sickening stench.

But on the North Bank of the Sambre River, the roar of engines, growing from distant to near, broke the silence of the night.

“They’re back!”

Joy appeared on both Kleist’s and Manstein’s faces.

Morin also stood up and quickly walked out of the command post.

A long convoy, escorted by a small number of cavalrymen, slowly drove into the camp area of the South City.

The leading Logistics Officer jumped down from the first truck and rushed over to Morin, saluting excitedly—he had even forgotten that he was only a temporary subordinate appointed by Ludendorff.

“Battalion Commander! We fulfilled the mission! We’re back!”

“You’ve worked hard.” Morin smiled, a rarity, and punched him lightly on the chest.

“What’s the situation?”

“Everything went smoothly! General Ludendorff, after reading your letter, approved double the ammunition for us without a word! And… and he sent two extra battalions of reinforcements!” The Logistics Officer pointed toward the soldiers continuously dismounting from the trucks behind.

Morin looked in the direction he pointed and indeed saw a large number of unfamiliar faces.

“Master Lu, Master Lu, you finally did something decent.” Morin muttered to himself.

Regardless, the arrival of ammunition and reinforcements allowed his tightly wound nerves to completely relax.

Soon, two officers wearing the rank of Major found Morin in the crowd and saluted him.

Look at that, insubordination turned into promotion.

“Captain Morin, I am Fritz, Battalion Commander of the 1st Battalion, 11th Infantry Regiment.”

“I am Heinz, Battalion Commander of the 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment.”

“Welcome, Captains.” Since their rank was higher than his own, Morin quickly returned the salute, a sincere smile on his face.

However, the moment the two Majors and their soldiers disembarked, they frowned at the strong odor in the air.

“My God, what is that smell?” Major Heinz couldn’t help but cover his nose.

“The smell of corpses.” Morin answered calmly, just as he had answered Captain Marwitz.

Fritz and Heinz exchanged glances, a look of solemnity in their expressions. Although they had participated in the siege of the Liège Fortress and the subsequent battle to interdict the Flanders Fifth Infantry Division, the fighting there clearly had not resulted in such a bizarre situation.

Morin: “Have your men unload the supplies first, and then move to the front to familiarize yourselves with the positions.”

“Understood, Captain Morin. We captured a batch of large searchlights from the Liège Fortress; they will be useful. We’ll set them up on the front line, and we will be responsible for security tonight.”

“I’m very grateful to you both!” Morin’s smile became even more genuine.

The soldiers of the two battalions immediately took action after receiving the order. They moved boxes of ammunition and supplies off the trucks, then laboriously unloaded several massive searchlights. Accompanying these were several equally cumbersome Radiant Crystal power generators for electricity.

As the soldiers of the two battalions followed the Instruction Assault Battalion’s guides, struggling to move these large devices toward the buildings behind the first defense line, their expressions already began to change. The further forward they moved, the more pungent the stench of decay became. The street underfoot was increasingly muddy, sticky with an unknown substance that could be blood or something else.

“Ready! Turn on the lights!”

Following an officer’s command, the switches for several searchlights were simultaneously flipped.

Buzz—

Accompanied by a faint electrical hum, several powerful, beam-like columns of light instantly pierced the darkness, illuminating the several-hundred-meter-deep street ahead as bright as day.

The next second, all the reinforcing soldiers froze.

Before them was a sight they would never forget, a scene out of hell. Countless corpses in red and blue uniforms were piled layer upon layer across the street, stacked in front of the Barbed Wire, and even snagged on the wire itself. Mutilated limbs, contorted faces, and coagulated blood appeared particularly horrifying under the pale light.

“Ugh…” A young soldier immediately retched violently against the wall, unable to hold it in.

More soldiers turned pale, trembling, staring blankly ahead, unable to utter a single word. Major Fritz and Major Heinz were also profoundly shocked by the scene before their eyes.

The information they had received from Ludendorff was that the Instruction Assault Battalion was defending Charleroi against an entire Gallic division’s attack. They had initially found this claim somewhat exaggerated—how could one battalion hold off a division?

But now, looking at this death zone paved with thousands of corpses, they realized how utterly wrong they had been. They didn’t need to count; just looking at this sea of blood and bodies was enough to imagine the brutality of the preceding battle.

Both Majors involuntarily turned to look at the Instruction Assault Battalion soldiers beside them.

Those soldiers were all expressionless, quietly cleaning their weapons or resting behind cover. It was as if the hellish scene before them was completely ordinary.

A mixture of awe, sympathy, and a hint of fear arose in the hearts of the two Majors. They couldn’t help but wonder in their minds: if it were them, holding this position with their battalions, how long could they have lasted? A day? Half a day?

Or just an hour? They didn’t dare think of the answer.

Major Fritz composed himself, walked over to Sergeant Major Klaus of the 1st Company, and offered him a cigarette.

“Sergeant Major, is this… is this how you fought them off?”

Klaus looked up, first saluted, then took the cigarette and lit it. He took a long, satisfying drag, exhaling a plume of thick smoke.

“How else, Major?” He pointed toward the front: “If we didn’t kill them, we would be the ones who died.”

August 12th, Afternoon.

The sun filtered through the sparse clouds, shining on the war-torn city of Charleroi, but bringing no warmth.

The soldiers of the Instruction Assault Battalion, marching in their still-neat ranks, withdrew with weary steps from the positions they had held for three days. Their uniforms were unrecognizable, covered in dirt, bloodstains, and the residue of gunpowder smoke. Exhaustion that defied words was etched on every face, yet their backs remained perfectly straight.

As they walked out of the South City and passed the vanguard of the Second Army Group coming to relieve them, the friendly soldiers spontaneously stopped, offering them their highest respect.

No words were needed. The lingering smell of blood and putrefaction in the air, along with the intense, unshakeable aura of battle on the Instruction Assault Battalion soldiers, spoke volumes.

In a grassy area outside North Charleroi, the Instruction Assault Battalion temporarily settled down. Soldiers sat on the ground in small groups. Some were wolfing down the long-overdue hot food. Others meticulously maintained their weapons. Still others did nothing, simply lying on the grass and staring blankly at the sky.

Morin did not disturb them.

He knew these heroes who had climbed out of hell needed time to lick their wounds, both physical and psychological. He himself was equally exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

But every time he thought that, his rest was inevitably interrupted.

A black sedan sped over and stopped beside the camp. An officer quickly disembarked and walked up to Morin.

“Captain Morin, General von Bulow and General Ludendorff request your immediate presence at the temporary headquarters.”

Morin nodded. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time… Since the moment he was forced to lead the Instruction Assault Battalion deep into enemy territory alone, he had planned exactly how he would ‘communicate’ with these two high-ranking officials.

He adjusted his uniform, despite the unremovable bloodstains, and followed the Major into the car.

The car sped north, soon arriving at the Second Army Group’s temporary headquarters. The area was heavily guarded, filled with high-ranking officers and staff officers rushing about purposefully. Morin was led directly to the largest command tent.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the impulse to throw his boot directly inside, and lifted the curtain.

Inside the tent, General von Bulow and General Ludendorff were standing over a large map, discussing something intensely. Seeing Morin enter, their discussion immediately ceased.

“Captain Morin, you have arrived.” General von Bulow spoke first, a courteous smile on his face. “Your defense of Charleroi, you and your Assault Battalion performed exceptionally well, winning valuable time for the main Army Group to deploy!”

“Yes, your brave conduct will be recorded in the annals of the Saxon Army! His Majesty will personally bestow medals upon you!” General Ludendorff quickly chimed in, also offering a similar polite smile.

Morin listened quietly, his face devoid of expression. He saluted, then remained silent, not offering a single polite word in return. He simply stood there, looking at the two high-ranking Imperial Army officials with a calmness that was unsettling.

The atmosphere in the tent instantly became awkward. The smiles on von Bulow’s and Ludendorff’s faces slowly stiffened.

They both sensed an unusual aura emanating from the young Captain. It was not the required humility or excitement one should show toward superiors, but a calmness bordering on accusation.

Finally, Morin spoke.

“Esteemed Generals, do you truly understand what ‘Assault Battalion’ means?”

(End of this Chapter)