“You—”
John French was shaking with rage. This was a bunch of lunatics! A group of madmen whose minds were warped by supposed ‘honor’ and the ‘offensive’! It was simply impossible to communicate with them! The first round of meetings thus ended in acrimonious disagreement.
The more serious issue was that the meeting was over, yet not a single word had been discussed about the most crucial questions: how the Expeditionary Force should deploy next, and how to coordinate with the Gallic Army.
The next day, John French was forced to grit his teeth and lead his Expeditionary Force toward Arras. Because he knew, if he didn’t plug that hole, no one else would.
However, just as his troops arrived at Arras and before they could fully deploy, the spearhead of the Saxon First Army Group was already upon them.
“Your Excellency, Field Marshal, all our units have moved into their predetermined positions.” A staff officer reported behind John French on the forward position: “The defense line is initially constructed, but… our troop strength is too vastly inferior compared to the Saxons facing us.”
John French lowered his binoculars, remaining silent. Of course he knew the disparity was immense. He had, at most, five infantry divisions and one cavalry division—a total of only 100,000 men. The opposing Saxon First Army Group was a heavily reinforced Army Group, estimated by vague intelligence to number over 400,000 men. A four-to-one troop disparity. How could this battle be fought?
He looked back at the staff officers behind him. The officers who had crossed the Channel to a foreign land all wore a look of unconcealed worry. He knew he had to instill confidence in them.
“Gentlemen, do not be intimidated by the enemy’s numbers.” John French’s voice was steady and strong. “We are soldiers of the Holy Britannian Empire! We possess the finest army in the world, and the most powerful Spellcasters accompanying our forces!”
“Although the Saxons are numerous, they are exhausted from their long march, and they have no Spellcasters to assist them in battle… whereas we are rested and waiting!”
“Tell all the soldiers that behind them is the English Channel! If Gaul falls, the Saxon barbarians will extend their hand right up to the edge of our homeland! We have no retreat!”
His speech was impassioned, and the staff officers’ fighting spirit was rekindled. John French nodded, dismissing them to their duties.
When only he and a few confidantes remained on the high ground, the look of firmness and resolve on his face gradually faded, replaced by one of profound solemnity and helplessness.
Those words were for his subordinates. He knew very well that the odds of this battle were against them. Fighting to the last man? What a joke. He would not sacrifice his precious Expeditionary Force for the sake of these Gallic fools. As the Expeditionary Force Commander, his first responsibility was to the Holy Britannian Empire and to the lives of the one hundred thousand soldiers under his command.
He turned and looked out over the plain to the southeast. That was the direction of the Gallic Fifth Army Group. His only hope now was that Lanrezac, the man who had spoken so wildly to him at the meeting, could withstand the pressure and avoid making any more foolish mistakes. As long as the Fifth Army Group could protect his right flank, he had some confidence in facing the Saxons at Arras, relying on support from his accompanying Spellcasters and Armored Knights.
But if… if the Fifth Army Group also collapsed…
A chill flashed in John French’s eyes. He had long prepared a backup plan. He walked to the map, his finger slowly tracing a path to a city behind Arras—Amiens. The Somme River flows from east to west through the northern part of the Amiens urban area, and the average width of the river along the Amiens stretch is about 20 meters. That was a natural, excellent defense line.
If the Expeditionary Force couldn’t hold out at Arras against the Saxon offensive, or if the Gallic Fifth Army Group ran into trouble, he would unhesitatingly order the entire army to retreat immediately to Amiens and set up a defense along the Somme River.
As for the Gallic territory north of Arras? If it was lost, so be it. That was Gallic soil. What did it have to do with John French and the Holy Britannian Empire? He had already done his duty. He had warned them at the operations meeting; they simply didn’t listen. Now, he had to secure a retreat path for his own army.
“Pass on my order,” he said to a trusted staff officer beside him: “Order the engineer units to immediately proceed to Amiens to survey the terrain along the Somme River, mark all suitable locations for establishing defense lines, and prepare to destroy all bridges.”
“Yes, Field Marshal!” The Dispatch Rider acknowledged the order and departed.
Watching the Dispatch Rider ride away, John French’s mind finally settled down slightly.
In this situation where the allies harbored their own agendas, time quietly advanced to August 16th.
Morin and the Instruction Assault Battalion were still resting outside North Charleroi. Soldiers with good combat records, drawn from various units of the Second Army Group, had been supplemented into the Instruction Assault Battalion. Currently, all companies were conducting emergency training with these new soldiers to help them adapt to the Instruction Assault Battalion’s fighting style as quickly as possible.
According to the Company Commanders and Sergeant Majors, while these soldiers might have been considered excellent soldiers or even ‘elite veterans’ in other units, upon joining the Instruction Assault Battalion, they were just ‘loli-level’ soldiers who needed rigorous drilling to become truly useful.
As night fell, the Instruction Assault Battalion’s camp gradually quieted down. The ‘new recruits,’ exhausted from a day of brutal training, lay down on their field cots and instantly fell asleep.
Morin, however, was wide awake. He was reflecting and summarizing. The battles of the past few days had given him many new insights.
The combat effectiveness of the Instruction Assault Battalion was undeniable. Although using the Instruction Assault Battalion as a meat grinder was inappropriate, it was undeniable that when fighting a defensive battle from fixed positions with sturdy fortifications and powerful firepower, they were a relentless meat grinder.
But war was not just about defense… As an ‘Assault’ unit, their core value lay in offense. And in offense, he had discovered a problem. That was, during rapid maneuvers and infiltration, the battalion’s heavy firepower struggled to keep pace with the infantry.
The MG08 Heavy Machine Guns, though incredibly powerful for this era, posed a problem during offense. They required finding a suitable firing position first, and then setting up the tripod—a process that wasted precious time. In a fast-changing battlefield, a single second of slowness could lead to the failure of the entire attack.
He recalled the brilliant ambush the First Imperial Guards Cavalry Division had executed south of Charleroi. General Hoeppner, a seemingly traditional old-school cavalry general, had fought a battle with a highly modern flavor. The key to his success lay in using cavalry mobility to quickly deploy a large number of Heavy Machine Guns into pre-established ambush positions, forming a deadly crossfire network.
Cavalry mobility plus the firepower of Heavy Machine Guns. This combination gave Morin immense inspiration.
The specialized nature of the Instruction Assault Battalion also gave them mobility—their large number of Military Trucks and Supply Train vehicles gave them mobility far superior to regular infantry. They also possessed firepower stronger than a normal infantry battalion—they had more Heavy Machine Guns and automatic weapons.
So why not combine these two elements more perfectly? Morin picked up a pencil and began sketching on a piece of paper. He started visualizing a scenario where his Assault Troops, launching an attack on an enemy position, could have a mobile Machine Gun platform that could keep pace and provide instant fire support.
When the infantry attack was stalled, these mobile Machine Gun platforms could immediately deploy on the flanks, using concentrated fire to suppress enemy strongpoints, creating conditions for the infantry to charge again. When the infantry tore open a breach, these mobile Machine Gun platforms could immediately follow up to secure the breach. They could even rely on their mobility to push deep into the enemy rear and exploit the gains.
This idea excited Morin. He felt he was grasping something… But how could it be realized specifically?
Should he mount the Heavy Machine Guns directly onto the Military Trucks? The thought flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. While the Military Trucks’ carrying capacity was adequate, their reliability was questionable, and their off-road capability was severely limited. They couldn’t navigate complex terrain.
Should he use cavalry packhorses? No, that wouldn’t work either. Although packhorses had excellent off-road capability, the time required to unload the machine gun from the horse and set up the tripod was still too long.
He needed a more flexible platform—a platform that could hit and run.
In that instant, Morin suddenly remembered a weapon he had seen in historical records and cinematic works from later generations. On the vast plains of Eastern Europa, during a brutal civil war… a weapon made of a simple four-wheeled carriage and a Heavy Machine Gun once dominated the battleground, striking fear into countless enemies. Its structure was simple, almost crude, but its tactical concept was ahead of its time.
A name, like lightning, cut through the fog in Morin’s mind.
Tachanka
Morin violently grabbed the pencil and paper on the desk and rapidly sketched. A crude but impactful prototype of a weapon sprung onto the paper. It was a four-wheeled carriage pulled by two horses. The rear of the carriage was reinforced and modified, and an MG08 Heavy Machine Gun was conspicuously mounted on it. The muzzle of the machine gun pointed toward the rear of the carriage. Inside the carriage, besides the gunner and assistant gunner, ammunition boxes were neatly stacked.
Its structure was so simple that any field factory, or even a slightly larger blacksmith shop, could manufacture it in large quantities in a short time. But its tactical value was revolutionary.
Imagine: on the battlefield, when the charge bugle sounded, dozens of such carriages, following behind the infantry assault column or on the flanks, quickly maneuvered forward. When the infantry attack was stalled by fierce enemy resistance, these carriages could immediately turn and stop, the driver holding the horses steady. The gunner in the carriage, without needing to dismount or set up a tripod, could simply swing the barrel around and unleash a furious barrage at the enemy’s position!
The firepower suppression capability of the MG08 Heavy Machine Gun could instantly form an airtight curtain of fire, pinning the enemy’s fire points down and preventing them from lifting their heads. And when the enemy’s artillery began to counter-fire, these carriages could immediately start moving to the next position, leaving the enemy shells to fall on empty ground.
Hit and run, never lingering in the fight. Mobility, firepower, survivability—perfectly combined.
Wasn’t this the mobile fire support platform accompanying infantry assault that he had always dreamed of?
“Tachanka.” Morin whispered the name, looking at the drawing.
Of course, this relatively early and primitive fire platform was only an emergency solution. What Morin truly wanted in his heart were Armored Vehicles with decent ballistic protection and stronger firepower. However, with the current state of Radiant Crystal Vehicle Technology, producing practical Armored Vehicles would take time… at least it wasn’t something he could solve on the battlefield immediately.
“It looks like I need to write a letter to Sister Cecilia…”
(End of this Chapter)
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