Chapter 179 - Facing the Marshal (3)
The 13th Regiment, having completed their preparations flawlessly, waited for the appointed hour to begin.
Everything was running smoothly—there wasn't a single detail out of place, from the planning of the operation to the supply lines.
Yet, since their opponent was Bertrand, it all felt as if it might be for nothing.
Ernest did everything in his power to approach the battle in the best possible condition.
It was only natural, given his position leading the vanguard. 2nd Company of the vanguard 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment.
One wrong move, and not only Ernest himself but also Robert would die, and Ferdie and Baumann of the following 1st Company would share the same fate.
This was why Ernest personally interacted with the Rangers, trying to gather as much information as possible.
However, Ernest's authority as a mere Company Commander was too limited, and most of the Rangers were new recruits lacking in ability.
"Hey, aren't you the Fox?"
So when he finally came across a Ranger who called him "Fox," Ernest felt a great sense of relief.
"I don't know who you are, but I'm glad we've both survived to meet again."
"Yeah, seriously. I'm surprised you made it."
The Ranger snickered, a cigarette hanging from his lips, exhaling smoke.
He made no effort to hide the fatigue on his face.
If he survived this time too, Ernest thought, he'd likely be able to recognize him next time they met.
"I'm the 2nd Company Commander of the 1st Battalion. I'd like to ask you for a bit more detailed information, if that's all right."
Ernest revealed that he was leading the vanguard of this operation and asked the Ranger for information.
The Ranger scratched his closely shaved head and said,
"That's outside my authority. Well, I'll file a report for now."
At those words, Ernest grinned.
"Is that any way to speak to a superior officer?"
"..."
If he didn't even have the authority to give Ernest information, that obviously meant he was ranked below a Company Commander.
At best, he'd be a Platoon Leader, probably a Lieutenant.
He could be a Captain, but judging by his reaction, he didn't seem like an officer at all.
Most likely, he was a non-commissioned officer.
In short, speaking to Ernest—a Captain in the Imperial Army—in that way was an insult to a superior officer.
Having let "authority" slip in front of Ernest and revealing the rank hidden behind the Ranger's privilege, the Ranger muttered something under his breath and snapped off a salute to Ernest.
Ernest playfully returned the gesture.
"Must be nice, getting promoted so damn fast."
"It's not that great, actually."
As the Ranger grumbled, Ernest gave a wry smile.
With a sigh, the Ranger walked off.
A little while later, Ernest had a rather unexpected experience: instead of going through his direct superior, 1st Battalion Commander Soren, he was called in directly by the Ranger Battalion Commander and handed some information.
"Here, this is a map our guys put together."
The Ranger Battalion Commander stared intently at Ernest, exhaling a thick cloud of cigarette smoke as he spoke.
Ernest recognized him instantly—it was that very same Ranger who used to hassle the cadets during their Field Training when he was a second year.
So, he really did make it to Battalion Commander.
To have become a colonel and still spend his time laughing as he tormented kids—what a Thomas Kohler kind of guy.
"Why are these areas marked differently?"
Ernest pointed to the map as he asked.
The map, based on information the Rangers had gathered in the forest, was drawn in two different colors, but he couldn't tell what criteria had been used for the divisions.
"The black markings are what my guys confirmed.
The red ones are from the greenhorns."
"..."
"Not buying it? Yeah, I don't trust them either. But there's not much we can do. We're short on manpower."
"How are you planning to determine the exact advance route?"
"We'll decide that on site after seeing things for ourselves. Any further in, and we're sure to be spotted by the enemy. There's no helping it."
"…If it's Count Lafayette, he'll already see this coming. The 14th Regiment will advance this far, so we'll need to go in deeper and hit the enemy's flank. But if we go in this deep, the enemy can set up ambushes on both the left and right flanks."
The 14th Regiment will enter the forest and hold their ground, playing the role of the anvil, while the 13th Regiment must strike the enemy's flank and rear as the hammer.
That means the 13th has to penetrate deep into the forest, but with their numbers spread thin, they won't be able to thoroughly sweep a wide area as they advance.
In other words, there will be space for the enemy to set up ambushes not just to the left of the 13th Regiment's advance route in the south, but also to the right.
"So what's your point?"
The Ranger Battalion Commander asked, a cigarette clamped between his teeth.
He was taking the words of the seventeen-year-old Company Commander far more seriously than one might expect.
"Everyone will be on the lookout for an ambush to the left, but not the right. Besides, the space on the right is so narrow that it'll be hard for the enemy to place many troops there. Also, because any ambushes on the right or to the north would have to catch us off guard, they're likely to be more passive. If we carve our advance route deep into the south, it should delay any northern ambushers from getting involved in the battle."
"That may be true, but what if you get stuck in there? Even if you can delay the fighting on the right, if you can't break through first, you'll end up surrounded on three sides. Go in too deep, and you might find yourself encircled all the way at the rear."
Just like Ernest, the Ranger Battalion Commander also believed that Bertrand was anticipating an Allied flanking maneuver.
And with good reason—a month earlier, in the fiercest phase of the Battle of Bertagne Forest at the very start of the war, the Rangers had learned firsthand, through heavy losses, just how meticulous Bertrand could be.
If Bertrand is aware of the Imperial Army's plans to flank, then penetrating his lines will be tough for the 13th Regiment no matter what they try.
More importantly, the operation has a strict time limit.
The 14th Regiment will be fighting and holding out in the forest, so the 13th has to strike quickly across the woods to hit the enemy's flank and rear.
If they take too long, the losses for the 14th will force them to retreat.
In the end, no matter what plan they come up with, everything boils down to a single problem.
Can we break through the forest where Bertrand is lying in wait, fully prepared, and do it in time?
"..."
And when it came to this problem, Ernest, as just a Company Commander, didn't dare to comment.
In truth, it already made no sense for a lowly Captain like him to be speaking one-on-one with a Colonel, discussing tactics like this.
And it's not as if Levin or the other commanders were idiots—they already considered all these factors while formulating the plan.
"Fine, let's hear what you've got to say. Go ahead, spit it out."
The Ranger Battalion Commander spoke rather generously.
He was telling him that, responsibilities and all be damned, he'd at least listen, regardless of what nonsense Ernest came up with.
Ernest stared silently at the map for a moment, then turned to him and said seriously:
"Let's just call it off."
"Is this bastard actually crazy?"
"You said to just spit it out…."
"Are you looking to get yourself killed?"
He'd tried suggesting they abort the attack, but it didn't fly.
Honestly, that would be best…
"It's hard to change the situation, so I think we need to flip the entire board instead."
With a sigh mixed into his voice, Ernest offered the next-best option.
"If you step outside conventional thinking for a moment, the 13th Regiment doesn't need a supply line, doesn't need to distinguish between front and rear, and honestly, we don't even need to fight the enemy here at all."
"That's not just thinking outside the box—you've thrown it out completely, and then some."
"Anyway, the operation will last, at most, less than half a day, and once we link up with the 14th Regiment, there'll be no need for extra supply lines for the 13th Regiment, right? Even if we fail to break through and have to retreat, we're not going to launch another attack from here."
"And?"
"So, can't we use the Logistics Corps as additional troops?"
"Now you're really a son of a bitch."
The Logistics Corps are practically untouchable—a kind of sacred ground.
Even the Imperial Army, armed with Balt guns and cannons and racing across the continent in automobiles, can't fight without supplies.
In most armies, about 40% of all troops are assigned to support branches.
Most of those are logistics.
It may seem excessive, but the sheer importance of supply makes it inevitable.
There's no point belaboring just how crucial logistics is.
More than anyone, Ernest knew firsthand—he'd been through hell when his supplies ran dry, and he understood it better than any noble officer. The Logistics Corps is a support branch. Technically, they can fight, but if it's come to that, it means the whole strategy has already collapsed.
The best Logistics Corps is the one that never fights at all.
Yet here Ernest was, suggesting they commit logistics to battle?
"Of course, it'd be great if the Logistics Corps actually fought—but is there any reason they need to?"
"…You're talking about using a deception?"
"Yes. Even if the Logistics Corps simply race along the western edge of the forest, it could throw the enemy into confusion. Or, we could do it the other way—leave the Logistics Corps behind, have the 13th Regiment maneuver around and infiltrate from the west."
"Of course, it would be even better if the Logistics Corps actually went into the forest and attacked the enemy themselves."
"You really are out of your mind, aren't you?"
The Logistics Corps is... how should I put this... like a mother, I guess...
Anyway, from the perspective of the combat branches, the Logistics Corps is like the lady of the house—someone you absolutely must protect no matter what.
But now, this crazy bastard is talking about sending that Logistics Corps into battle and abandoning the supply lines altogether.
Even if the Ranger Battalion Commander didn't know about the situation in House Krieger, he still might have thought, "This lunatic must've grown up without a mother."
"Personally, I think the best plan is to have the Logistics Corps move into the forest here as bait, then the 13th Regiment pretends to be the Logistics Corps as they withdraw, circles around, and infiltrates from the west."
When Ernest said he would, well, toss their mother—no, the Logistics Corps—into a forest riddled with enemy traps as bait, the Ranger Battalion Commander was so stunned, he was rendered speechless.
"It's a crazy idea, but to be honest, it sounds convincing."
The more he thought about it, the more compelling the plan seemed.
Still, there was one issue that couldn't be ignored.
"Don't complain later if you end up in a situation where you can't get resupplied. Frankly, if I were them, I wouldn't want to resupply you either."
Deploying the Logistics Corps into battle is practically a once-in-a-generation event—a sign the entire military structure is on the verge of collapse.
And yet, here they were: the Imperial Army had just defeated Belliang, both the 5th and 6th Divisions were in perfect shape, and now the Logistics Corps was about to end up in combat.
For the Logistics Corps, who believed they would never have to fight, this was a true bolt from the blue.
"…You told me to spout off my ideas, so I just did."
"Fox, don't forget this—when you trust others, that's when you get betrayed. If you never trust anyone, there's nothing to be betrayed about."
"..."
Ernest couldn't argue with that.
After all, it wasn't written down anywhere, and he couldn't complain about a superior telling him to just speak his mind.
As a result, Ernest's ruthless plan to deploy the Logistics Corps was adopted, and the entire operation—which was ready to go with every preparation in place—was completely overturned. Even Levin, after putting his hand to his forehead and letting out a dozen sighs in a row, could only nod silently in the end.
Levin immediately sent a courier to get approval for the new plan from the Division Commander.
"These guys just never quit, do they."
Even for the Major General commanding the 5th Division, hearing Levin casually announce the day before the operation that he'd be sending the Logistics Corps into a forest that might be crawling with the enemy was hard to swallow.
He knew they were capable, but he couldn't help but wonder if they were all out of their minds.
Still, the 5th Division Commander approved this brutal plan.
However, he was absolutely clear: the Logistics Corps were only to defend themselves if attacked and must never venture deep into the forest under any circumstances.
"Just pack what you need! You can get supplies from the 14th Regiment!"
"Are we really sure this is going to be okay? Isn't this just crazy?"
Disguised as the Logistics Corps, the 13th Regiment packed only combat gear and the minimum supplies needed to last until the start of tomorrow's operation, then left their campsite.
There were worries that the 13th Regiment, being much larger than the actual Logistics Corps, wouldn't have enough vehicles.
However, as long as they shoved people into the now-empty transport vehicles that used to carry supplies, it seemed there was no end to how many could fit.
"What? You want us to fight? Us? Why?"
"No, there's no need to fight. Just wait here, and when the operation starts, you only need to enter the forest."
"So you're telling us to fight, aren't you?"
"I'm telling you to go in—there's no need to fight."
"..."
"..."
Levin would never forget the hateful, venomous glare in the eyes of the Logistics Corps commander, his junior.
If Levin had been in his shoes, he wouldn't have been able to stand it either, so he didn't say much about it.
Frankly, given he'd been bracing for someone to grab him by the collar, just being glared at didn't seem so bad.
The Ranger Battalion Commander had said you only get betrayed because you trust others, but he hadn't mentioned that this brutal, ruthless plan had actually come from the mind of a seventeen-year-old devil, Ernest Krieger.
Officially, it was said that Levin and Ernest had conceived the plan together.
Someone might say Levin had stolen Ernest's idea, but in this case, he was protecting Ernest.
The Logistics Corps are the army's mother. Crossing them doesn't just make things difficult—it can really screw you over.
Ernest learned a lesson from this experience.
You get betrayed because you trust others.
And if you don't trust anyone, you can be even more moved when things work out.
So, it's better not to trust others.
…Something about that conclusion feels off, but it's probably right.
The 13th Regiment moved northeast along the supply route, then withdrew a good distance before heading straight west to occupy a suitable village. After spending the night there, at dawn tomorrow, they would rush out at the start of the operation, stabbing into the flank of the enemy preparing to fight the Logistics Corps, and pierce straight through.
The goal was to disrupt the enemy formation in an instant and then attack the enemy's flank and rear, who were currently engaged with the 14th Regiment.
They hadn't done any reconnaissance of the terrain.
The operation itself was so unpredictable there wasn't even time to try.
Tomorrow morning, once they entered the forest, they would just have to trust the Rangers to handle things and fight as best they could.
Up to now, maps made by the Rangers had been useless for the 13th Regiment.
Still, for the Logistics Corps, who, despite being a non-combat branch, had to enter the enemy's traps, those maps would be helpful.
"Will this really work?"
"I don't know. Don't ask me."
"Why are you so touchy?"
"Am I?"
Very few people knew that Ernest was the mastermind behind this crazy plan.
Robert had no idea, so he just found it odd how unusually edgy Ernest was acting, but he didn't pry any further.
"Well, none of us saw this coming, so I bet even the great Count Lafayette couldn't have predicted it."
There wasn't much point talking about deception tactics—the main players themselves had no idea things would turn out like this. Bertrand is probably just as bewildered.
Ernest didn't reply to Robert's comment, though he agreed with part of it.
He couldn't fully agree because he thought that Bertrand might still have prepared a response.
Setting aside the likelihood of mistaking the Logistics Corps for the 13th Regiment, Bertrand may well have considered a scenario like this and made at least some small contingency plans.
Still, in the end, everyone found this situation equally perplexing.
And amid the fog of the battlefield, even Bertrand—a meticulous strategist—would see his influence wane.
No matter how much of a genius Bertrand was, he wasn't a Field Commander dashing about directly among the soldiers, and from what they'd observed in the previous battle, the field commanders under him weren't particularly impressive.
In a chaotic situation like this, the 13th Regiment, with its abundance of capable field commanders, would have slightly better odds.
"Was this your doing?"
"What was?"
Ernest, lost in thought, flinched when Ferdie asked him that, but he returned the question with a perfectly calm expression.
Ferdie eyed Ernest up and down, suspicion evident, and muttered,
"This is exactly the sort of thing someone like you would come up with…"
Ferdie, who knew Ernest's ruthlessly pragmatic tactics better than anyone, found Ernest highly suspicious.
But since Ernest was thoroughly playing dumb and pushing him for answers wouldn't change anything, Ferdie decided to set his suspicions aside for now.
Honestly, it would be stranger to think that a lowly Captain could be behind such a sweeping revision of the plan.
After all, any change this drastic would require the Division Commander's personal approval—who would seriously listen to a seventeen-year-old Captain?
Especially one suggesting something insane, like using the entire Logistics Corps as bait for the enemy's trap!
Anyway, on the night before the operation, while the soldiers of the 13th Regiment and the company commanders and field officers—who would soon be struggling on the front lines—rested deeply, the regimental commander, battalion commanders, and staff officers held meetings all night long, not even noticing as the stars faded from the sky.
If they committed the Logistics Corps to combat and failed, there would be no way to recover from it.
A truly brilliant commander always prioritizes supply over direct combat, and considers the success of a great logistical operation far more significant than a minor battlefield victory.
It's no joke—if the Logistics Corps were to suffer heavy losses in this operation, or worse, if the whole thing failed, Levin himself might have to take responsibility and resign.
Instead of protecting the "mother" who manages all the essentials and keeps the family fed, they were tossing her into the enemy camp as bait.
If "mother" was badly hurt, or if the operation failed, they would deserve an utter thrashing.
No, even if "mother" came back completely unscathed and the operation succeeded, they'd still deserve a beating.
That's just the way of the world.
Not even the smallest mistake could be tolerated.
This was an operation that absolutely had to succeed.
As soon as morning broke, the 13th Regiment busily prepared for battle.
Ernest, who had only a little over half a year of military experience but had unwillingly become a veteran thanks to a series of brutal, intense fights, led the 2nd Company skillfully as its commander.
Robert, too, was now so competent that Ernest no longer needed to worry about him.
However, Billim and Simon appeared a bit uneasy.
It wasn't because they lacked ability.
The problem was that they had no experience participating in such a systematic, large-scale operation.
Billim and Simon's first taste of real combat had been the chaotic, disorganized battle in the forest in front of Lanosel.
Since then, things had progressed without fighting, with their most notable experience being a handful of minor skirmishes against thugs in Avril.
So really, it was Ernest and Robert who were out of the ordinary—having started their combat careers with the Bertagne Forest Battle, a horrifying fight that would go down in history.
Of course Billim and Simon were flustered.
"We just have to follow the plan. Don't worry too much."
Ernest did his best to encourage Billim and Simon. Considering Ernest was even more clueless than Ferdinand when it came to tact, this was truly a remarkable effort on his part.
"…Yes, I know. But fighting in a forest… I don't think things will go according to plan."
Nevertheless, Billim, whose very first battle had begun with Bailey's command to charge, couldn't suppress his anxiety, and there really wasn't anything more Ernest could say to help.
"That's not for us to worry about."
But Simon didn't seem worried at all.
He might be bumbling from inexperience, but he just didn't seem anxious in the slightest.
"We're platoon leaders. All we have to do is follow the company commander's orders."
Simon spoke firmly.
There was no point in platoon leaders worrying about the plan. This was an operation involving an entire division, there were two colonels here on the ground, and when they entered the forest, three lieutenant colonels—the battalion commanders—would be with them as well.
Besides, wasn't their own superior, Captain Fox—Ernest Krieger—right here?
Worrying about the plan would really be foolish.
"You must have a carefree life, not worrying about anything."
"What are you talking about? I worry too."
"Yeah, I guess you do…"
Billim realized it was foolish to expect sympathy from Simon, who seemed so unbothered, and shook his head sadly.
To think someone like this was one of his peers—truly a cause for lament.
"We're all set."
Anyway, the 13th Regiment finished their preparations in no time.
Then they settled into waiting.
"Ugh… My nerves are killing me…"
These agonizing moments waiting for the battle to begin are a unique experience only found in a well-organized operation.
It's a real shame for anyone who's sent into combat without feeling this—without a plan or anything, just grabbing your gun and charging in.
Since the 13th Regiment would be going in later than scheduled to deceive the enemy, they got to savor this nerve-wracking wait a bit longer. Their guts were practically in knots—it felt like they'd dry up and die from the tension.
Then, at some point, the 13th Regiment heard faint sounds coming from the southwest.
"…It's begun."
Realizing that the sound was cannon fire, Ernest murmured.
The erratic cannon fire echoing across the open plains of Belliang—without anything to block or muffle the sound—felt as if a storm of endless thunderbolts was pouring down from afar.
Or maybe, it sounded more like raindrops drumming on the roof of a damp military tent.
By now, the 14th Regiment had probably already entered the forest, and poor Mother... no, the Logistics Corps, were likely shivering as they too moved into the woods.
It was surely a gruesome sight, one too horrific to watch with open eyes.
And yet, the 13th Regiment kept waiting.
They waited long enough that Bertrand could hear word that the Logistics Corps had entered the forest, but not so long that anyone would realize the Logistics Corps had no intention of fighting.
During this uncertain interval, the Rangers meticulously calculated the forest's terrain and distance.
There were Rangers in that forest too—specifically, Konchanya's mountain Rangers who operated out of the Bertebras Mountains.
Because Belliang had committed so many Rangers to the Battle of Bertagne Forest, Bertrand didn't have any left under his command.
But Konchanya was different.
The only fighting they'd seen was against the Empire down at the southern edge of the plains, so their Rangers remained intact.
With them in place, information was surely being relayed within the forest quickly and actively.
Even an experienced Ranger Battalion Commander would have a hard time slipping through that perfect gap and moving into the void of information.
"Is it time yet?" Levin asked.
The Ranger Battalion Commander just kept his eyes fiercely trained on the forest, offering no answer.
It couldn't be too soon.
They had to be cautious.
But it couldn't be too late, either.
They had to be bold.
They needed to calculate the speed of the Logistics Corps, the time until they were discovered, and how long it would take for the Konchanya Rangers to relay information to Bertrand.
On top of that, they had to factor in the time it would take for the 13th Regiment to leave the village and reach the forest, the number and disposition of enemy forces inside the woods, and the battles likely to erupt between the 13th and the 14th—and the time those fights would consume.
In truth, none of this could be worked out through logic and reason alone.
There were simply too many uncertain variables. Pinpointing the precise, decisive moment to launch this operation—which would determine its very fate—was, in reality, almost impossible.
Should they wait a little longer?
Was it already too late?
Or maybe, just maybe, was this very moment—this flicker of hesitation—the perfect time?
In this realm, where the human mind cannot calculate, an ocean of information churns and surges in a constant, turbulent current.
It's a chaos so labyrinthine that even the one thinking can't read his own thoughts, so complex it defies any attempt at explanation.
People call it "intuition."
"Now."
Ernest, who had been waiting on standby in the command vehicle, murmured almost unconsciously.
"It's time to begin."
At that very moment, the Ranger Battalion Commander, too, let slip words that seemed to flow out without conscious thought.
"Move out."
"Move out! Move out!"
Levin gave the order to deploy without a moment's hesitation, and the command was relayed instantly.
The 13th Regiment, already on standby, burst forward the moment they heard the order, racing across the field at full speed.
Clatter!
"Whoa!"
"Ow! My back's going to break!"
Timing was everything, so the vehicles barreled straight across the open field toward the forest, even though there was no road.
The ride was so rough, the vehicles were shaking like crazy.
"We're stopping! Hold on tight!"
Screeeeech!
"Ahhh!"
The vehicle screeched to a halt, coming to a hard stop right in front of the forest.
Bang!
"Ow!"
One of the heavy transport vehicles, skidding across dirt and grass, crashed into the vehicle in front before finally coming to a stop.
"Get out!"
"Damn it!"
The doors flew open and the soldiers poured out.
Meanwhile, The Rangers who'd ridden up front had already jumped out and entered the forest, lighting the way forward for the others.
Even the new recruits, trained under Levin, moved with impressive precision, and the 1st Battalion of the 13th Regiment was ready in a flash.
"Stick to the plan."
"Move in!"
With the resolute words of 1st Battalion Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Soren Kaufmann, and the command from the vanguard 2nd Company Commander, Captain Ernest Krieger, the 13th Regiment began charging into the forest.
'Here we go again—charging into the woods.'
Ernest, running into the forest with his men, couldn't help but feel a pang of dry humor.
Ever since the Battle of the Bertagne Forest, he'd been stuck in this same mess, and now he was doing it all over again—charging into yet another forest.
Still, unlike the reckless, brainless charges ordered by the former battalion commander—whose brain matter probably dried right up—everything was unfolding according to a carefully laid-out plan, which offered him some comfort.
However, now that they'd actually entered the forest, there wasn't much of a plan to speak of. Ironically, that was the plan.
Nobody knew what was in store deep in these woods, so there was no other option.
Everything was left up to the discretion of the commanders on the ground.
And in the chaos of battle—when the fog of war descended—a commander like Ernest, who could see a bit farther and had a broader perspective, would prove his worth.
Not that Ernest had ever wanted to be in this position.
All the infantry of the 13th Regiment disappeared into the forest, and the remaining vehicles quickly turned around—drivers at the wheel—retreating toward the village where regimental headquarters was located.
The bullet had left the chamber.
Now, all that was left was to see whether it hit its mark or missed.