Chapter 82: Inspection

When Morin received the news that His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince would be inspecting the troops, he was leading the soldiers of the 1st Company in practicing earthwork.

In fact, the Saxon Army, and armies worldwide, already had the concept of digging trenches, but they were mostly shallow, ‘half-man-deep’ early trenches where soldiers would lean forward.

Human armies have a long tradition of building field fortifications, but at this time, it was not yet thorough or systematized.

Morin was currently imparting the key technical actions for rapidly assessing terrain and soil quality, and then quickly digging ‘kneeling, prone, and standing firing positions’ (foxholes) under enemy fire, to all the soldiers in his company.

Once the soldiers mastered the foxholes, the concept of a trench line connecting those individual points would naturally form.

This scene of a Company Commander personally demonstrating tactical movements was a novelty for most soldiers of the Saxon Imperial Army, so everyone was watching attentively.

After Morin finished his demonstration, the platoons, led by their Platoon Leaders and NCOs, began practicing in their respective designated areas.

However, the Saxon Army infantry was not yet widely issued entrenching tools; such tools were only equipped to support units like the quartermaster and artillery.

To conduct this training, Morin had to make several trips to the supply depot, trying every way he could to procure a batch of entrenching tools.

Incidentally, he also managed to get his hands on a dozen or so ‘Artillery P08’ pistols, which came with 32-round drum magazines and long barrels, along with the accompanying tools and ammunition, which were temporarily available after the field artillery suffered some casualties in the street fighting.

He had wanted to get a few of the famous C96 ‘Broomhandle Mausers,’ but unfortunately, this weapon was not yet in widespread service in the Saxon Army and was very hard to acquire.

Even in the world before his transmigration, the 9mm ‘Red Nine’ version wouldn’t be produced in large quantities until the trench deadlock phase began…

After receiving the news from the instructing officer from the Division Headquarters, Morin halted the day’s training and gave the soldiers a rare half-day off.

Of course, this ‘day off’ only meant a reduction of half a day of tactical training; the 1st Company soldiers were not truly resting, but instead used the time for another task.

“Are mushrooms growing on your uniform? Can’t you see that huge clump of mud? Scrub!”

“Your boots! Your boots! I could scrape off a pound of mud from them! Clean them immediately!”

Klaus and Bowman, the newly promoted NCOs, had all turned into the most demanding foremen, their eyes wide as they patrolled the ranks, their voices louder than ever.

The soldiers, under the roaring of the NCOs, frantically scrubbed the dried mud and suspicious stains from their uniforms with hard-bristled brushes.

In addition to cleaning their uniforms, everyone also needed to clean and polish other gear.

Spiked helmets, rifles, bayonets, belts, ammunition pouches, canteens… all leather and metal goods had to be polished as clean as possible.

The entire camp was filled with the ‘scratch, scratch’ sounds of scrubbing and the soldiers’ low murmurs.

Both new recruits and veterans were simultaneously excited and nervous, as seeing the Crown Prince in person was a monumental event for them.

Morin was not idle; as the new Company Commander, he also had to tidy up his own gear.

He meticulously wiped down a saber provided by the Division Headquarters while listening to the discussions of the soldiers nearby, sensing the vitality injected into the company by the fresh recruits.

After all, after a few more battles, this ‘vitality’ would slowly transform into a certain ‘numbness.’

Early the next morning, just as the sky began to lighten, the Platoon Sergeants of each platoon dragged everyone out of bed.

All soldiers were ordered to shave and wash their faces, ensuring everyone was clean-shaven, with no stubble or dirt visible.

The requirements for this temporary honor guard were far stricter than those for the honor guards back home, who only carried rifles and bayonets during inspections.

The experienced officer sent by the Division Headquarters emphasized that His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince wanted to see the demeanor of troops about to engage in combat, not a display of useless formality.

Therefore, including Morin, everyone had to wear their complete fighting gear.

Backpacks, canteens, ammunition pouches, bayonets… nothing could be left out; everything had to be worn.

It was only because entrenching tools were not yet standard issue for infantry that this officer likely didn’t make them carry those as well.

When the soldiers were fully geared up, everyone felt heavy, as if they were back in the midst of a full-gear forced march…

After leading the company to the designated inspection ground ahead of time and taking their place at the very front of the battalion, Morin and Klaus made their final adjustments to the formation.

“Company Commander, what should we do with the front rows?” Klaus asked in a low voice.

“Pick out the veterans with the cleanest uniforms and those who are a bit older, and put them in the front row,” Morin decided without hesitation.

This was not only for appearance’s sake.

The raw recruits tended to make mistakes easily in such a grand setting due to nervousness.

Veterans were more worldly, had better psychological fortitude, and could keep their composure better.

Placing them in the front was both an honor for them and the safest guarantee.

The veterans selected for the front row stood ramrod straight, their faces mostly expressionless, but the slight lift of their chins betrayed their inner pride.

After finalizing the formation, Morin stood at the very front of the company and emphasized discipline to everyone one last time.

“Listen up, all of you! When the inspection begins, everyone must maintain absolute stillness and silence!”

“Eyes straight ahead! No whispering! No looking left or right!”

“You are absolutely forbidden from speaking to His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince or the accompanying officers without permission! Only if they address you first! Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

The thunderous response echoed over the inspection ground.

After all this was done, all that remained was the long, agonizing wait.

As the sun slowly rose, the sunlight shone on the soldiers’ spiked helmets, reflecting small glints of gold.

Time ticked by, second by second. Many accompanying war correspondents, carrying cameras, had also arrived at the inspection ground early.

Their presence meant that today’s inspection would soon feature heavily on the pages of the Empire’s major newspapers.

The soldiers of the 1st Company became even more excited. Their legs weren’t tired, their feet weren’t numb; they stood perfectly straight without any need for NCO correction.

Just as Morin was wondering if all Crown Princes and dignitaries were this slow, a line of figures on horseback finally appeared on the distant road.

His Imperial Highness Crown Prince Georg Albert Friedrich August Johann Maria von Wettin had arrived.

The sound of hoofbeats drew closer. Morin stood at the very front of the formation, quietly glancing over with the corner of his eye.

Leading the group was a young man in a splendid hussar uniform, undoubtedly Crown Prince Georg.

Behind him followed a large group of officers whose stars shone brightly.

Lieutenant General Mackensen, the Commander of the 8th Division, the Commanders of the two subordinate Infantry Brigades and one Field Artillery Brigade, and the Colonels of several Regiments… known and unknown principal officers from Division to Regimental level were almost all present.

The dignitaries were numerous, lined up like stalks of hemp.

As the Crown Prince and his entourage dismounted and walked closer, Major Thomas, the Commander of the 1st Battalion, hurried forward after receiving a signal from an officer.

He snapped to attention five paces from the Crown Prince, smartly raising his right hand, fingertips lightly touching the brim of his spiked helmet, performing an impeccable Saxon military salute, his voice slightly trembling with excitement.

“Your Imperial Highness! The 1st Battalion, 32nd Zwickau Infantry Regiment, is fully assembled! Awaiting your inspection!”

(End of this Chapter)

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