“Add another seat?” Ludwig’s eyes widened violently. The idea, which sounded utterly preposterous yet seemed feasible, exploded in his mind.
“Yes! A Two-Seater Armored Knight!” Morin grew more excited as he spoke, his entire thought process opening up. “Imagine, extend your cockpit backward, changing it into a dual, tandem seat.”
“You remain in the front, still responsible for controlling the Armored Knight’s movement and close-quarters combat.”
“Then, in the rear, you put a dedicated weapons officer!”
“This weapons officer won’t be responsible for driving. His mission is only one: to control all the long-range weapons added to the Armored Knight via an independent observation and operating system!”
“This way, the two of you collaborate: one handles movement and traditional fighting, and the other handles long-range attacks. Wouldn’t that solve the problem perfectly?”
Ludwig was completely dumbfounded. Two-seater cockpit… weapons officer… This concept was unheard of, yet it made absolute sense. If… if all of this could truly be realized, the operational capability of the Armored Knight unit would be completely revolutionized!
He looked at Morin, his eyes filled with awe beyond admiration. Ludwig even started to suspect Morin’s mind structure was different from everyone else’s. This man has never even driven an Armored Knight for a day, yet why is his insight into this field deeper than anyone else’s?
“Morin… you…” Ludwig took a deep breath, trying to calm his surging emotions. “You are a genius, a true military genius.”
“Alright, alright, whether I’m a genius or not is irrelevant for now.” Morin waved his hand, his mind still absorbed in his own creation—a walking, heavily armored attack helicopter. What a wonderful thing!
“This is just a preliminary idea. How to actually implement it requires research from you professionals and the Magic Guided Technicians in the rear. Once your injuries are better, you can write this idea into a report and submit it to your Knight Order’s high command to gauge their reaction.”
“I absolutely will!” Ludwig nodded firmly. He had decided that as soon as his injuries improved in the next couple of days, he would immediately begin writing the report. The Armored Knight pilot suddenly had a premonition that a new era for the Armored Knight branch might be ushered in by the words he was about to write. The source of it all was the young Captain before him, who was now humming a tune while peeling another apple.
After several more days of recuperation in the Field Hospital, Morin felt as if his entire body was rusting. The wound on his waist had scabbed over. Aside from avoiding strenuous exercise, he was perfectly fine for daily activity. He simply couldn’t stand being idle any longer. Amiens had been captured. According to the news he gathered from various sources and the continuous information updates on the system [Intelligence] tab, the main forces of the First and Second Army Groups were reassembling, their spearhead aimed directly at the Gallic Republic’s capital—Paris.
That was Paris! He had fought fiercely and risked his life with the Instruction Assault Battalion, not only to protect his twenty million Imperial Marks from devaluation, but also to one day water his horse in the Seine River! How could he and the Instruction Assault Battalion be absent from such a historic moment that would cement their names in history?
Therefore, starting the day after his wound scabbed over, Morin began his campaign to ‘harass’ his superiors. Report after report, requesting to return to duty, flew from the Field Hospital to the Army Group Command Post.
“Reporting, General, Captain Friedrich Morin, Commander of the Instruction Assault Battalion, has fully recovered and is in good health. He strongly requests permission to return to duty!”
“Reporting, General, Captain Morin expresses his hope to lead the Instruction Assault Battalion in continuing to serve the Empire!”
“Reporting, General, the Instruction Assault Battalion is eagerly awaiting the chance to once again become the dagger of the entire Army Group, being the first to stab into the Gallic heartland!”
These reports, marked by Morin’s unique style, left the staff officers who had to process them speechless. They had no choice but to forward them, completely untouched, to General Mackensen, Commander of the First Army Group.
At the First Army Group’s temporary headquarters, General Mackensen and his old partner, his most trusted Chief of Staff, Johannes Friedrich Leopold von Seeckt, were poring over a massive military map, discussing the specific plans for the assault on Paris.
“Morin, that young scoundrel, truly cannot sit still for a moment.” General Mackensen picked up the latest request on his desk, a look of helpless yet affectionate pride on his aging face. “Young men should have drive. Unlike my own son, who would probably rather lie in a Field Hospital all day.”
Seeckt adjusted his monocle, his voice calm: “Furthermore, our upcoming offensive definitely requires a dagger like the Instruction Assault Battalion.” He pointed to the jagged defense line on the map surrounding the outskirts of Paris, his expression serious. “The Gauls have rushed in their hastily recalled colonial troops, and although they are a motley crew, their will to resist is surprisingly tenacious…”
“Our vanguard is stalled in several sectors, General. We desperately need a powerful assault force, like a sharp surgical knife, to slice open their defense line.”
“I understand.” Mackensen nodded. He knew perfectly well what his old partner meant. The Gallic colonial forces had dug numerous Trenches along the line of advance toward Paris and had wisely deployed Large Anti-Air Magic Guided Devices to the front line. This restricted the attack range of the Armored Airships, preventing them from freely flying over enemy positions as they did at Amiens. Consequently, the First Army Group’s advance was indeed showing signs of being bogged down by layer after layer of Trenches. Furthermore, the Britannian Expeditionary Force was still watching from the flank, forcing General Mackensen to detach troops to guard his own flank.
Thinking this over, he looked at Seeckt: “What does the General Staff say about transferring the Instruction Assault Battalion?”
“It has been approved.” Seeckt replied: “We just received the telegram from the rear at noon. The General Staff has approved your request, officially transferring the Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion from the Second Army Group’s order of battle to our First Army Group.”
“That’s good.” General Mackensen breathed a sigh of relief. “However, you should personally inform General von Bulow of the transfer. Snatching such a capable unit from him might leave him with mixed feelings.”
“I will handle it,” Mackensen nodded. In fact, he had immediately sent a telegram to the General Staff requesting the transfer of the Instruction Assault Battalion by name the moment the Battle of Amiens ended. When the General Staff approved it, they naturally notified General von Bulow, the Second Army Group Commander, immediately.
Meanwhile, at the Second Army Group Headquarters near St. Quentin, General von Bulow’s mood was indeed mixed, just as Seeckt had predicted. When the General Staff’s official transfer order reached him, he let out a long sigh of relief, feeling as if a massive burden had been lifted. The Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion was simply too unique. Its commander, Captain Friedrich Morin, had two powerful patrons, the Crown Prince and General Mackensen, and his network was terrifyingly complex. Commanding such a unit was like holding a ticking time bomb. If you used them well, it was a magnificent achievement; if anything went wrong, the consequences would be dire.
Now that Mackensen had voluntarily taken the unit, a huge weight had been lifted from General von Bulow’s mind. But on the other hand, recalling the unit’s irrationally formidable combat power, General von Bulow felt a pang of regret. In the battles for the Liège Fortress cluster and Charleroi, the unit’s performance was nothing short of legendary. With them, it felt like any obstacle could be overcome. Now, the most useful dagger was being transferred away. How could he not feel the loss?
“General, the General Staff’s order…” The Aide-de-Camp reminded von Bulow, looking cautiously at his shifting expression.
“I know.” General von Bulow sighed, waving his hand, his voice filled with reluctance and disappointment. “Send a reply to the First Army Group, saying we firmly comply with the General Staff’s order, and wish the Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion further success under General Mackensen’s command.” He slumped back into his chair, looking utterly drained. “What a pity, what a great pity.”
While the commanders of the two large Army Groups were conducting a ‘friendly negotiation’ over the ownership of the Instruction Assault Battalion, the originator of the chaos, Morin, finally received the order he had yearned for.
On September 1st, exactly one month after the war began, a Dispatch Rider rushed into the medical tent and handed him an order sealed with the First Army Group Headquarters’ wax seal.
“Captain Morin, Headquarters orders you to immediately return to your original unit and prepare to execute a new operational mission!”
Morin snatched the order, read it carefully twice, and finally let out a sigh of relief.
“Excellent! Finally, I can leave the rear! Staying idle any longer would make me sick…”
Soon, a doctor from the Field Hospital came over to perform Morin’s final medical check-up.
“Your wound has healed very well, Captain Morin.” The military doctor, whose hair was slightly graying, finished examining Morin’s wound and nodded in satisfaction: “Young men truly have robust bodies; you recovered quickly. But I must remind you, try to avoid strenuous exercise for the next half-month, especially motions that strain your waist.”
“Understood, Doctor. Thank you.” Morin replied with a smile as he buttoned his uniform. His heart had already flown to the Instruction Assault Battalion’s camp. Just yesterday, Kleist had given him good news. The 75.8mm Mortar Launchers and Flamethrowers he had requested had begun arriving at the unit.
(End of this Chapter)
The novel has already been fully translated up to the last updated chapter. You can access it on my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair