Chapter 232: Are You Deaf? I Told You to Advance!

“In the sky?” Wolff instinctively looked up at the hazy, gray sky over the South City, his face bewildered.

“Could it be…” Wolff’s Company Sergeant Major whispered in surprise beside him. The Dispatch Rider gave a wry smile: “The Battalion Commander is in the Armored Airship up there! He’s commanding us from the air!”

Wolff finally understood and immediately gasped. Commanding from an airship? How did the Battalion Commander’s mind even work?

He dared not hesitate any longer, instantly ordering a halt to the forward assault, and led a platoon of soldiers to reinforce the left flank. Just as they set up their Machine Guns, a large number of Britannian soldiers poured out from the street corner.

“Fire!” Wolff roared. A dense rain of bullets instantly sprayed out, cutting down the leading enemy troops. Wolff wiped the cold sweat from his brow, a surge of dread washing over him. If they had been just a few minutes later, the enemy would have flanked them, and although they would surely defeat them, the cost would have been high.

The Britannians clearly hadn’t expected an ambush here. Caught completely off guard, they left dozens of bodies and retreated in disarray.

“Damn it! How did they know we were here?! Is there a traitor?” The Britannian Company Commander, hiding behind a wall, cursed wildly as he watched the furiously firing Heavy Machine Gun. He couldn’t understand how their flanking route, which should have been highly concealed, was known in advance, allowing the enemy to set up a Heavy Machine Gun precisely there, waiting for them.

And this would clearly not be the last time Britannian soldiers encountered such an unnatural situation today. In the time that followed, the Commander led his unit in an attempt to flank from another direction, only to meet the same fate. They barely managed to circle to the enemy’s rear before being blasted back by a hail of grenades, suffering heavy casualties. It was as if… as if a pair of eyes was constantly fixed on them from the sky. Their every move was exposed to the enemy’s vision.

This thought sent a shiver down the Britannian Commander’s spine.

In the L29 Armored Airship high above, Morin was calmly watching the system map. He felt incredibly satisfied to see the red unit token representing the enemy company completely blocked in the alley by the green unit token representing his Heavy Machine Gun squad. The feeling of commanding the entire situation and directing the flow of battle was exhilarating.

However, he quickly discovered a new problem. Although he could see everything on the battlefield, the transmission of orders was still too slow. From the moment he issued the command to the Battalion Headquarters’ reception, and then the Dispatch Rider’s run to the frontline company, there was a delay of at least several minutes. In the fast-changing world of Street Fighting, that delay was enough for disaster to strike. Just now, if he hadn’t anticipated the enemy’s move and had Wolff deploy the Heavy Machine Gun in advance, it would have been too late to react once the enemy truly flanked them.

“No, it’s still too slow.” Morin frowned. “I must find a way to minimize the delay.”

He walked over to Captain Schneider, rubbed his hands together, and put on that somewhat ‘ingratiating’ smile.

“Uh, Captain, could I discuss something with you again?”

Schneider’s eyes twitched the moment he saw that expression; a sense of foreboding washed over him. “Captain Morin, what do you want now?”

“Captain, does your airship happen to have one of those large loudspeakers that can broadcast to the ground?”

“A large loudspeaker? You mean the amplifier?” Schneider paused, then nodded: “Yes, we do, but it’s normally used to broadcast morale-boosting music or urge surrender on the battlefield. Why do you ask?”

“Lend it to me!” Morin said excitedly.

“Wait a minute…” Schneider instantly grasped Morin’s intention, and he felt his worldview shatter once more. “Don’t tell me you want to use the surrender loudspeaker to command the battle?”

“Exactly!” Morin stated with absolute confidence: “Think about it. If I shout through the loudspeaker, won’t the allied forces below hear me instantly? Isn’t that much faster than having a Dispatch Rider run himself ragged? Besides, how many Britannians can understand Saxon anyway?”

Schneider opened his mouth, completely unable to find a counterargument. Commanding a battalion in real-time on the battlefield using an amplifier from an airship… What kind of lunatic would devise such a tactic? He looked at Morin’s excited face. Ah, yes, this lunatic.

“Alright… you win, Captain Morin. I admit defeat.” He waved at a crew member: “Go, connect the amplifier line to the bridge.”

A few minutes later, a new microphone was handed to Morin. Morin cleared his throat, brought the microphone to his mouth, and began speaking in Saxon [German]. The next second, a clear, loud voice with a massive echo reverberated across the sky of South Amiens.

“Klaus! Attention, 1st Company men!”

In that moment, at least a dozen men named Klaus across South Amiens simultaneously looked up at the sky.

“Your right front, the half-destroyed house fifty meters ahead! The enemy is hiding behind it—about two sections of troops! Have Kahn take a platoon and flank them through the ruins! Wipe them out!”

At this, Klaus of the Instruction Assault Battalion and the other soldiers finally realized what was happening. An old veteran of the 1st Company excitedly pointed to the giant airship in the sky: “Battalion Commander! It’s the Battalion Commander’s voice! He really is watching us from the sky!”

Klaus wasted no words, immediately finding Kahn, the 1st Platoon Leader. “Kahn! Did you hear that? Battalion Commander’s orders! Take your men and flank them from there—yes, right past that pile of rubble! Eliminate the enemies hiding behind that building!”

“Yes, Captain!” Kahn, his face flushed with excitement, led his platoon and rushed out.

A few minutes later, fierce gunfire and an explosion erupted from the direction of the building Morin had indicated, then quickly subsided. Morin’s voice soon became the main theme of the battlefield in the Instruction Assault Battalion’s sector of South Amiens.

“Wolff! I told you you were going the wrong way! Are you deaf? I told you to advance to the flank! The enemy ahead is just delaying you! The street on your left is lightly defended! Infiltrate from there and hit them in the rear!”

“Jonas! 3rd Company! See the plaza in front of you? Don’t charge frontally! There are snipers on the rooftops on both sides! Circle around the edge, use grenades to open the way—yes, exactly!”

Under Morin’s ‘Field Marshal’-style real-time direction, the Instruction Assault Battalion transformed into a divine force. They always seemed to know in advance how to bypass enemy traps, and consistently appeared in the enemy’s most vulnerable spots.

The Britannian soldiers were utterly defeated. They felt they weren’t fighting men but fighting a god. The voice echoing from the sky was like a divine decree, dictating the life and death of everyone on the battlefield.

The fighting continued until sunset. When the last light disappeared below the horizon, the two exhausted sides simultaneously ceased the attack. Night fell, and South Amiens finally recovered from the day’s clamor, though the silence was fragile and unsettling. Sparks of fire still burned amidst the ruins, and occasional stray shots reminded everyone that the war was far from over.

The L29 Armored Airship, like a colossal beast lurking in the darkness, quietly hovered over the city. Its gigantic searchlight beams swept over the Britannian-controlled blocks, ensuring the soldiers hiding behind cover dared not raise their heads.

On the bridge, the atmosphere was much lighter than during the day. Morin, Captain Schneider, and several airship officers were gathered around a small table, enjoying an Air Force-special dinner. The crispy roasted Bavarian sausages, served with Saxon sauerkraut, were simple, but to Morin, who had endured a full day of fierce fighting, it was heavenly.

Everything that happened this afternoon was a profound shock to the airmen who spent most of their lives in the sky. They discovered for the first time that their War Behemoth, besides dropping bombs, could be used in so many novel ways. Morin chatted with them about a range of topics. From the Army’s ‘Infantry-Cavalry Coordination’ to ‘Air-Ground Integration’… Numerous forward-thinking tactical ideas continuously flowed from him and Captain Schneider. The others were mesmerized, feeling that this young Army Captain had opened a window to the future for them.

The next day, at first light. Morin insisted on returning to the ground, despite the repeated pleas of Captain Schneider and the medical non-commissioned officer to rest.

“Captain, your wound was just stitched up. What if it tears open if you move around too much?” the medic caring for Morin asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” Morin patted his chest. “I’m the commander of the Instruction Assault Battalion. I can’t hide in the sky forever, can I?”

Schneider looked at his resolute appearance, knowing he couldn’t dissuade the lunatic. “Alright,” he sighed, “I’ll have the helmsman lower the altitude further. Be careful when you climb down.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Morin smiled at him. “Your support and the help of the entire L29 crew were invaluable this time. After this campaign, come visit me in Dresden, and I’ll buy you the finest Saxon black beer!”

“That’s a promise, then!”

The long rope ladder was deployed again from the airship’s belly. Morin carefully descended to the ground. By now, the railway bridgehead position had transformed into a bustling temporary base. Kleist was directing soldiers to reinforce fortifications and transport ammunition.

Seeing Morin descend from the sky, many people gathered around.

“Battalion Commander! You’re back!”

“Battalion Commander, is your wound okay?”

Seeing the familiar, concerned faces, a warm feeling surged through Morin’s heart. “I’m fine,” he waved them off. “Kleist, take a platoon of troops and follow me.”

“Yes, Battalion Commander!” Kleist didn’t ask further. “Where are you going?”

“To dig up some things.”

(End of this Chapter)

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