Chapter 212: The Somme River Flows the Wrong Way

Two kilometers north of Amiens, in Coisy Village.

The residents of the village had been living in fear since yesterday. First, large numbers of Britannian Allied troops passed through the village from north to south, heading toward Amiens. They looked like they had suffered a defeat, covered in dust and low on morale. Immediately following, news spread like wildfire through the village that the Saxons were about to attack.

Since eighty percent of the able-bodied men in the village had already been conscripted and sent to the front line, the only people remaining in this small village were women, children, and the elderly. The winter wheat sown last October should have been harvested in July or August, but due to the severe lack of manpower, the harvesting work was already strained. Now, hearing that the supposedly savage and brutal Saxons were about to invade, the villagers were even more terrified.

At noon on August 22nd, an old farmer, who was exempt from service because he was over seventy, stumbled back to the village, his face etched with panic. He loudly told everyone that he had personally seen the Saxon Army. They were driving iron vehicles without horses and were already outside the village.

This news plunged the villagers into further chaos. People ran home, locking their doors and windows, frantically hiding their meager food supplies in cellars or wall cavities. Curiously, they hid and trembled in their homes for half a day but never heard the Saxons enter the village, smash doors, or loot. Only after the same old farmer, regaining his courage, cautiously snuck out for a look did he return to report that the Saxons who had arrived in Military Trucks did not seem to have any intention of entering the village. They appeared to have bypassed the village entirely and gone in another direction, seemingly preoccupied with something else.

Upon hearing this, the mayor immediately intended to leave for Amiens to report the appearance of the Saxons to the city garrison. However, he was quickly held back by several villagers. They feared his action would provoke the ‘barbarians’ from the north outside the village. If they were angered and entered the village to conduct a massacre, all would be lost.

Meanwhile, Morin, hiding in a small copse of trees by the fields near Coisy Village, looked toward Amiens through his binoculars. He sighed, not because he worried about his whereabouts being revealed by the nearby villagers. On this vast open plain, a convoy of five Military Trucks, however small, was conspicuous. Being sighted by local civilians was almost inevitable. Moreover, based on his observations, these small towns and villages were not connected to Amiens by wired telegraph lines—or rather, the wired telegraph lines of this era primarily ran between cities. Long-distance communication for these small villages outside the city relied entirely on periodic visits from the postman. Even if the mayor were determined to report them, by the time he delivered the message on foot, the main force behind Morin would likely already be at the gates of Amiens.

The reason Morin sighed was primarily because he had to admit that this vast plain along the Somme River was a living hell for an attacking force. With the defense having already established positions, the attacking force had virtually no terrain features to utilize for concealment or cover during the assault. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but flat ground. Thus, he was not at all surprised why the commanders of the famous Battle of the Somme in the other world managed to lose tens of thousands of men in a single day. Launching an assault en masse on this open ground was no different from a firing squad, purely offering targets to the enemy machine gunners.

Even worse, in this world, along the Somme River… the roles of attacker and defender had been reversed. Now, the Britannians were defending along the Somme, and the Saxons had to launch a brazen assault toward the positions meticulously constructed by the Britannians.

Since the Battle of Arras ended, Morin’s Instruction Assault Battalion and the entire ‘Assault Battle Group’ had scarcely rested, tirelessly pursuing the Britannian Expeditionary Force. However, the retreat organized by John French’s Expeditionary Force was executed with professionalism. Coupled with their systematic destruction of roads and bridges along the route, the Saxon Army’s pursuit speed was significantly hampered. Even the Instruction Assault Battalion, with its many Military Trucks and carriages providing mobility far superior to regular infantry, found its assault speed severely affected. After pursuing for half a day and an entire night, the Assault Battalion only managed to catch two isolated Britannian infantry companies.

Although these two small-scale engagements were easily won, thanks to Morin’s utilization of the system map’s guidance and the convoy’s mobility to cut off the enemy’s retreat—with his side only suffering a few minor injuries and capturing over two hundred Britannian Expeditionary Force soldiers—Morin knew clearly that these negligible losses were a mere annoyance to the main Britannian Expeditionary Force and would have no substantive impact.

Therefore, his worst fear had ultimately materialized. The main Expeditionary Force had successfully retreated to Amiens.

After the pursuit ended, the Assault Battalion set up a temporary camp about nine kilometers from Amiens to rest. Morin, unable to sit still, led Manstein and a platoon of three veterans—all skilled and brave 1st Company soldiers—on a reconnaissance mission, taking five Military Trucks and two ‘Saxon-Style Tachankas’ to scout the area near the village.

After confirming that no news could reach Amiens quickly from this area, Morin took a leather telescope case captured from a Britannian officer and retrieved a brass monocular telescope. He found that while the field of view of this type of Britannian monocular telescope was smaller than the standard Saxon Army’s binoculars, its magnification was surprisingly good, allowing a clearer and farther view.

Through the telescope, the spire of Amiens Cathedral, one of the pinnacles of Gothic architecture, was clearly visible. On the outskirts of North Amiens, the basic defense positions hastily but methodically constructed by the Expeditionary Force could also be seen. Even through the telescope’s somewhat unclear image, Morin could easily tell that the positions the Britannians were constructing here were far more complete and sturdy than their temporary works at Arras. The trenches were deeper, and they were reinforced with numerous sandbags. He could even spot machine gun strongpoints constructed with large piles of light-colored sandbags.

It was clear that this position had not been built in a day or two. Morin knew his earlier judgment was completely correct: the Britannians never intended to fight to the death at Arras. Furthermore, if he were to put himself in the position of the Expeditionary Force Commander, he would also unhesitatingly choose to organize the defense at Amiens, utilizing the Somme River as a natural barrier, rather than wasting valuable troops holding Arras.

After a rough survey of the outer perimeter, and after noting down a few suspicious locations that seemed to be defense line junctions in his notebook, Morin retrieved five brand-new bicycles from one of the Military Trucks’ cargo beds. He then summoned Manstein and three veterans from the 1st Company—men with sufficient skill and courage—and, each mounting a bicycle, prepared to cycle closer to Amiens.

Manstein was a little nervous when he received his brand-new bicycle. He had expected Morin’s ‘close-range reconnaissance’ would, at most, involve observing from the safety of the woods one or two kilometers from Amiens, drawing a rough sketch. But judging by the current situation, Morin intended to push deeper. Any further and they would be in open ground, vulnerable to immediate attack by Britannian patrols.

“Battalion Commander, are we going further ahead?” Manstein asked, gripping the bicycle handlebars, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

“Of course~” Morin straddled his bicycle, adjusted the saddle height, and answered matter-of-factly: “What good is this distance? We can only see a vague outline. How can we figure out where they’ve hidden their machine guns and the specific structure of the position without getting closer?”

Manstein knew clearly that tens of thousands of Britannian Expeditionary Force soldiers were stationed in and around Amiens City. He felt anxious as he mounted his bicycle, his palms slightly sweating. If they were discovered, a squadron of enemy cavalry would easily overwhelm them, and their small force, even with two horse-drawn machine guns, wouldn’t stand a chance. However, seeing Morin and the three veterans from the 1st Company beside him, his anxiety lessened considerably. The four men looked as relaxed as if they were out for a leisurely bike ride, showing no sign of tension despite being in the enemy’s security zone.

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant~” A veteran from the 1st Platoon of the 1st Company grinned, slowing his pace slightly to ride beside Manstein: “The Battalion Commander always knows what he is doing. Since he dares to lead us further in, it means he is fully confident!” “That’s right, Lieutenant. When has our Battalion Commander ever led us into trouble?” another soldier chimed in.

Seeing their calm demeanor, Manstein felt reassured. Yes, I am already in the Instruction Assault Battalion, this elite unit famous throughout the army, and I already jumped out of an Armored Airship directly into the heavily guarded Liège Fortress with Morin… He had survived a near-death experience like that; why should he fear this small-scale maneuver?

With this thought, Manstein took a deep breath, and his gaze firmed. The five-man team cycled silently along the field paths, slowly creeping toward the Expeditionary Force’s defense line. Manstein didn’t know how Morin managed it, but they traveled with frequent stops and starts, avoiding several patrolling Britannian cavalry squads by timely dives into ditches or bushes at Morin’s signal. The thrill of passing right next to the enemy, again and again, still made Manstein’s heart pound rapidly, despite his recent combat experience.

Finally, led by Morin, they quietly snaked their way to a location only about five or six hundred meters from the enemy’s outermost position. This area was an unfinished wheat field, its golden stubble glistening in the sun. Although the field was open, lying prone behind the dense stubble could effectively conceal their bodies and bicycles.

“Alright, this is far enough. Any further is too dangerous,” Morin stopped, whispering. He had the others dismount and hide their bicycles. He and Manstein then removed their easily reflective helmets and crawled to the edge of the wheat field.

Morin’s ideal helmet was still in the design phase in the rear. For now, the Assault Battalion had modified their standard Spiked Helmets by removing the spike. The spike was useless and only risked exposure due to reflection.

The two men raised their telescopes and began meticulously observing the enemy position ahead.

“Manstein, remember this,” Morin said, observing while giving Manstein an on-the-spot lesson like a teacher. “When conducting this type of close reconnaissance, the distance must be short enough, or the information you gather will be too vague to be tactically useful.”

“Also, in this kind of open plain, concealment is paramount. You must lie low or find cover that allows your body’s outline to blend with the environment.”

“And you must never wear anything that reflects light, including those spiked helmets. They are too easily exposed in the sun; they are targets waiting to be shot.”

Manstein nodded repeatedly, absorbing the valuable, real-world battlefield experience that couldn’t be found in textbooks.

“But Battalion Commander, is it truly necessary to risk so much to scout from this close?” Manstein still asked, confused: “Can’t the artillery observers in the rear and aerial reconnaissance also provide intelligence?”

Hearing Manstein’s question, Morin lowered his telescope, turned, and countered: “Manstein, let me ask you: why were the Instruction Assault Battalion’s previous assault battles so successful? Why did we always manage to breach the enemy’s defense line so quickly?”

The novel has already been fully translated up to the last updated chapter. You can access it on my Patreon at patreon.com/caleredhair