Chapter 199: A New Nickname

From August 12th to August 14th, the entire operational area under the Second Army Group underwent earth-shattering changes.

With the complete fall of the Namur Fortress Cluster and the decisive control over Charleroi, the main forces of the Saxon Second Army Group and the Ludendorff Battle Group, like floodgates opened, rapidly deployed along both banks of the Sambre River.

The spearhead of two hundred and sixty thousand troops was aimed directly at the heartland of the Gallic Republic.

On the plains south of Charleroi, the thrilling cavalry duel had long since concluded.

The First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division, in a textbook ambush, completely crippled the Gallic Third Cavalry Division.

After the Gallic Ninth Infantry Division retreated in panic under the ground attack of the Armored Airship.

General Hoeppner led his troops, carrying large numbers of captured fine warhorses and the twelve almost-intact 75mm Magic Guided Cannons, marching grandly through Charleroi City and returning to the North Bank of the Sambre River.

As this victorious army marched through the war-torn urban area, every cavalryman fell silent.

Captain Marwitz, who had been sent earlier to establish contact, now acted like an experienced guide.

Pointing to the mountains of corpses piled up on both sides of the street, he recounted to his colleagues the bloody battle the Instruction Assault Battalion had fought there.

Simultaneously, engineers and reserve battalion troops from the Second Army Group also advanced into South Charleroi, beginning the task of clearing this massive ‘graveyard.’

Since the Gauls had retreated, they couldn’t just leave these thousands of corpses to rot and stink, potentially causing a plague.

Wearing makeshift masks, the engineers used hooks and ropes to drag the disfigured corpses from the Barbed Wire and the ruins, transporting them outside the city for centralized burial in pits.

The entire city was shrouded in the aura of death.

On an open ground on the North Bank of the Sambre River, the Army Group’s Supply Train unit rapidly constructed a temporary Armored Airship Field Landing Zone.

Huge steel structural supports were erected, and various heavy maintenance equipment were continuously transported by Military Trucks.

The L29 Armored Airship, which had flaunted its power in the sky for nearly ten days, slowly reduced altitude amid the roar of its engines, finally landing smoothly on its dedicated supports.

This Steel Behemoth, which had hung in the sky for nearly ten days, finally got a chance to rest.

Ground crew and Magic Guided Technicians swarmed it, replenishing its expensive Radiant Crystal fuel and large-caliber shells, and conducting emergency inspections and maintenance on its massive hull, serving it like an honored king.

After a brief period of rest, the resupplied L29 Armored Airship took off again, positioning itself directly over the South Bank of the Sambre River.

Its mere presence was the most powerful deterrent.

Under its watchful gaze, the engineer units of the Second Army Group constructed several new temporary pontoon bridges on both sides of Charleroi City.

The more passages for the grand army to cross the river, the better.

By this point, the Gallic Fifth Army Group had completely lost the initiative.

Faced with the menacing War Behemoth in the sky, they dared not make any sudden moves.

Infantry units did not dare to press forward, as any assembly would invite the devastating strike of the 203mm giant cannon.

Even their proud 75mm Magic Guided Cannons did not dare to open fire easily.

Because the muzzle flash, clearly visible to the Armored Airship’s excellent observation system, was as conspicuous as a firefly in the dark, and once located, despairing counter-artillery fire would immediately follow.

The 75mm caliber was clearly outmatched by the 203mm Naval Cannon.

Thus, in an atmosphere of bizarre calm, the main forces of the Saxon Second Army Group began to cross the Sambre River in an orderly fashion, batch after batch.

By August 14th, only 13 days after the war mobilization began, the Saxon right wing main force had completely cleared all transportation arteries within the Grand Duchy of Flanders, and its spearhead had reached the Gallic border.

This speed was a full nine days ahead of the schedule estimated in the operational plan formulated by the General Staff based on the manuscripts left by former Chief of the General Staff Schlieffen!

This astonishing news was quickly relayed back to the Imperial General Staff forward headquarters in Koblenz via the wired telegraph and telephone lines that had been hastily set up along the route, and it soon spread among the high-ranking officers of the various Army Groups.

The entire Saxon Army high command was shaken by this.

And in this brilliant war report, one name was repeatedly mentioned: the ‘Instruction Assault Battalion.’

The performance of this newly established, cutting-edge unit in the nearly legendary defensive battle of Charleroi brought it once again into the view of all the Army Group heavyweights.

While marvelling at its powerful combat effectiveness, people also developed a strong interest in its commander.

Soon, following ‘The Mage Killer of Seville’ and ‘The Night Spectre of the Vallecas Highlands,’ Morin acquired a new, even more widely known nickname.

The Butcher of Charleroi.

This bloody nickname, carrying a hint of chilling terror, rapidly spread across the entire Western Front battlefield.

When the detailed battle report regarding the Charleroi campaign was relayed via telegram to the Fifth Army Group Command Post, Crown Prince Georg immediately began to read the report released by the General Staff with intense focus.

The Crown Prince had been slightly frustrated lately.

As the Commander-in-Chief of the Fifth Army Group, his troops had been firmly pinned down in the Ardennes Forest these past few days, tasked with tying down a portion of the Gallic Army’s main force.

The rapid advance of the Saxon Army’s right wing was extremely satisfying to him, but it also left him regretting his lack of participation.

Everything seemed to be proceeding in an orderly manner, according to the plan formulated by Army Chief of Staff Moltke the Younger.

He quickly scanned the battle report, reading ten lines at a glance.

“The Second Army Group successfully captured Charleroi… The First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division flanked and completely defeated the Gallic Third Cavalry Division… The L29 Armored Airship arrived on the battlefield and completely routed the Gallic Ninth Division… The main force of the Second Army Group has entirely crossed the Sambre River by the 14th…”

Upon seeing this content, Georg’s face showed a satisfied smile.

“Well fought! But why don’t I see the Instruction Assault Battalion’s battle report? Oh… it’s at the bottom.”

As Georg’s gaze continued downward, and he saw the specific operational details and casualty figures for the Instruction Assault Battalion in the battle report, the smile on his face instantly froze.

The battle report stated clearly:

“The Saxon Royal Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion was ordered to be the first to assault and hold Charleroi.”

“Between August 10th and 12th, the battalion, supported by one 77mm Field Artillery Battalion, independently resisted the repeated fierce assaults of the Gallic Army’s Ninth Infantry Division (approximately 15,000 men) and a portion of the Third Cavalry Division, sustaining 182 casualties.”

Georg’s breathing quickened. The hand holding the telegram involuntarily squeezed, wrinkling the paper.

One hundred and eighty-two men!

One battalion, just like that, lost nearly one-fifth of its strength!

This was the Instruction Assault Battalion! His prized unit, which he personally established and poured countless effort and hope into! The hope for the future of the entire Saxon Army!

Every soldier in it was an elite handpicked from the entire army!

And what was the result?

von Bulow and Ludendorff, those scoundrels, simply treated it as cannon fodder, throwing it into the meat grinder of Charleroi to fight a war of attrition with the Gauls?

Was their brains filled with paste?

A surge of uncontrollable fury violently rushed up from the pit of Georg’s stomach, instantly setting his blood alight.

“Scoundrels!”

He slammed his hand onto the desk, abruptly stood up, and violently threw the telegram onto the floor.

The loud crash startled the guards and staff officers outside the office.

Georg paced back and forth in the office, cursing incessantly. His handsome face was contorted with rage, like a provoked lion.

“I entrusted the Instruction Assault Battalion to you to be a dagger, to create miracles! Not for you to use as sandbags to fill the line!”

“This precious unit—I myself was reluctant to use it casually, afraid of even a scratch! And you two? You just threw it directly into a fire pit?”

“One battalion to hold off a division? How could you even think of that! Why didn’t you just ask them to hold off an Army Group?”