Outside Paris, the smell of gunpowder and the lingering scent of negative energy hadn’t completely dissipated.
Inside the temporary camp of the First Army Group, busy figures were everywhere.
The Instruction Assault Battalion had been resting in its own campsite these days, but apart from the wounded, daily training had not been neglected.
Morin, Kleist, and others were handling various combat documents with the help of administrative officers.
At the same time, they had to organize a large amount of data on troop casualties and ammunition consumption, as well as speculate on upcoming missions.
Kleist looked at the north on the map with a somewhat serious expression: “Battalion Commander, although Paris has been taken, the Britannians to the north are still eyeing us covetously… I guess after we finish replenishing, we will likely be transferred to the north to deal with the Britannian Expeditionary Force.”
“Very likely…”
Morin also agreed with this judgment. He had now accepted the setting that his unit would be “used to death” because it was useful.
“However, fighting the Gauls, we still have equipment and tactical advantages… but fighting the Britannians, it will be a head-on collision.”
“Their elite troops are stronger overall and more numerous, and the Highland Mage Corps is not easy to deal with either.”
“Sir!”
Just then, Manstein walked over, one foot deep and one foot shallow in the mud, holding a telegram paper in his hand.
His uniform was covered with dried mud spots, and his originally shiny riding boots were now unrecognizable, but there was an excited smile on his face.
“An urgent telegram forwarded to us by the General Staff through the First Army Group.”
Manstein handed over the telegram, his tone unable to hide his happiness.
“I thought we’d be stuck in this muddy place for another month or so.”
Morin took the telegram and glanced at it.
The content was brief: The First Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Battalion is hereby ordered to cease combat missions immediately, board the train with all equipment, and return to the Koblenz base for rest and reorganization.
“Koblenz?” Morin raised his eyebrows.
He knew this place well. It was one of the most important railway hubs and rear bases in the western part of the Saxon Empire, quite a distance from the front line.
And it was also the current headquarters of the General Staff on the Western Front.
Generally speaking, frontline troops rested in second-line positions or nearby occupied towns. Being pulled directly back to the rear of the homeland was actually quite rare.
Morin folded the telegram and stuffed it into his pocket. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Pass the order down, the whole battalion assemble… Bring all those captured equipment that can still be used, don’t save trouble for those logistics guys.”
“By the way, same old rule, don’t reveal the destination before boarding is completed.”
“Yes, Battalion Commander!”
The military train for the Instruction Assault Battalion’s return journey was specially allocated, still configured with a large number of boxcars and a hard-seat carriage for officers.
However, the hard-seat carriage was assigned by Morin to the wounded, while he and Kleist squeezed into the boxcars.
To be honest, after sleeping with thousands of corpses in Charleroi, the environment in the boxcar was considered quite good by everyone.
With a long whistle, the military train started moving with a “clank-clank” sound, slowly leaving this battlefield that had just swallowed countless lives.
In the carriage where Morin was, as the train speed increased and the destination of Koblenz was made public, the atmosphere slowly relaxed.
Several non-commissioned officers gathered together to play cards, the stakes being a few crumpled cigarettes.
Someone was writing a letter in the corner, and others were discussing hometown delicacies or the dancing girls in the rural theater troupes with their comrades.
Morin leaned against the small observation port of the boxcar, watching the scenery retreating outside.
From devastated craters and charred tree trunks, it gradually turned into green fields and intact villages.
The further east they went, the fainter the traces of war became.
“Battalion Commander, what are you thinking about?” Manstein stood opposite him, looking at his expression and asking.
“Thinking about this ‘reorganization’…”
Morin turned his head to glance at Manstein, then focused his attention outside again.
“Pulling us directly back to Koblenz from the very front line, this commotion is a bit big… If it’s just to replenish soldiers and equipment, there’s no need to run so far.”
“Maybe the big shots above finally realized that using a treasure like you as infantry in the trenches is too wasteful?”
Manstein said half-jokingly, “Maybe they want you to go back and teach those brats who haven’t graduated from the military academy yet.”
“Teach?” Morin smiled, “If that’s really the case, it would be leisurely.”
But he knew in his heart that things were probably not that simple.
The Instruction Assault Battalion had fought all the way here, and the battle losses were actually not small.
Especially the battle of Creil-Paris, although the results were brilliant, many veterans were injured.
According to routine procedures, they should be replenished with soldiers on the spot or merged into other units.
Returning to the country for reorganization often meant that the establishment of this unit might undergo major changes.
The train sped on the tracks day and night.
Early in the morning two days later, when the first ray of sunlight penetrated the thin mist, the train slowly decelerated and entered the massive central station of Koblenz.
“Attention everyone! Tidy up your uniforms!”
With the ear-piercing friction sound of the train braking, the shouts of officers at all levels rose and fell in the carriages.
Soldiers scrambled to button up their uniforms and straighten their helmets, trying to make themselves look less like a group of beggars who just crawled out of a mud pit—after all, they were back in the homeland.
Morin tidied up his collar and chest rig, preparing to get off, but saw the scene on the platform through the observation window.
His movements paused.
“Damn it…” Kleist, who leaned close to him, gasped, “Is this battle array a bit too big?”
The wide platform had long been cleared.
Two rows of Imperial Guard soldiers in ceremonial uniforms holding ceremonial rifles stood straight, and a red carpet was paved all the way to where the train stopped.
At the end of the red carpet stood a group of high-ranking officers wearing various medals.
The officers of the Instruction Assault Battalion had seen the two people standing at the very front countless times in newspapers and military academy publications.
Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff, Little Moltke.
Imperial Minister of War, Falkenhayn.
But the most critical one was the person standing between the two.
Saxon Empire Emperor, Albert II.
“I…” Morin was also dumbfounded now.
This wasn’t welcoming a battalion-level unit returning for rest… This specification was more than enough even for welcoming a triumphant army group commander.
The carriage door was pulled open from the outside, and the slightly chilly morning air rushed in, mixed with the unique smell of burning Radiant Crystals on the platform.
Morin took a deep breath and jumped off the carriage first.
His military boots stepped on the solid platform ground, making a crisp “snap.”
Immediately after, Manstein, Kleist, and other officers and soldiers also filed out, quickly lining up on the platform.
Although their clothes had various stains and they were covered in gunpowder smoke, the moment this group of soldiers stood still, a biting killing intent naturally permeated the air.
That was a temperament that only those who had truly crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood would have.
Morin walked quickly to the group of big shots, stood at attention, and saluted.
Little Moltke and Falkenhayn looked at each other, both revealing a trace of appreciation in their eyes.
Not showing fatigue due to the long journey, nor appearing flustered by suddenly seeing big shots, this young man indeed had something.
Albert II, standing in the middle, stared at Morin for a few moments, then a smile suddenly appeared on his face.
“Captain Morin, you look younger than I imagined.”
The imperial ruler’s voice sounded gentler than rumored, but it still revealed a kind of majesty.
“You and your soldiers have done well. The Empire is proud of you.”
Albert II’s reputation among the people and grassroots soldiers had always been quite good.
So the Emperor’s simple two sentences made the officers and soldiers standing behind Morin puff out their chests one by one, as if the bloodshed and sacrifice along the way were all worth it at this moment.
Immediately after, he turned his head and glanced at Falkenhayn, who also took a step forward.
“Now, read the order of His Majesty the Emperor and the Supreme Command of the Army.”
“Whoosh—”
The entire platform instantly became quiet. Even the sound of the Radiant Crystal locomotives in the distance seemed to become distant. Morin and the soldiers behind him stood at attention again.
“In view of the outstanding performance of the First Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Battalion in the battles of Liège, Charleroi, Amiens, Creil, and Paris, as well as the decisive combat results achieved by the new tactics adopted by it in actual combat…”
Falkenhayn’s voice was steady and powerful, every word clearly drilling into the ears of everyone present.
“Approved by His Majesty the Emperor, effective immediately, the ‘First Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Battalion’ is officially expanded into the ‘Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Unit’!”
Hearing this name, Morin couldn’t help raising his eyebrows… No longer a “Battalion,” but a “Unit.”
In this era, such a vague title often implied extremely high independence and expansion potential.
And the word “Imperial Guard” was also retained, even emphasized more.
But this was not the end.
“Captain Friedrich Morin is hereby appointed as the Commander-in-Chief of the ‘Imperial Guard Instruction Assault Unit’.”
Falkenhayn paused, his gaze falling on Morin’s overly young face, and emphasized his tone.
“And promoted to… Army Lieutenant Colonel.”
As soon as this sentence came out, it was like a heavy bomb exploding on the platform.
Although strict military discipline prevented the soldiers from making a sound, the simultaneous gasp at that moment still betrayed their inner shock.
Lieutenant Colonel?
Morin himself was also stunned for a moment.
He originally thought that being promoted to Major would be the limit, after all, he had only been promoted to Captain for a few months.
Skipping Major directly and rising two ranks?
This was simply unheard of in the Saxon officer corps, which stressed seniority and tradition
Manstein and Kleist standing behind him widened their eyes even more, almost failing to manage their expressions.
A twenty-two-year-old Lieutenant Colonel? Good heavens…
Falkenhayn seemed very satisfied with everyone’s reaction, and this was just the beginning. After a pause, he continued to read the order.
“Erich von Manstein, promoted to Army Captain, appointed as Unit Chief of Staff.”
“Ewald von Kleist, promoted to Army Major, appointed as Unit Deputy Commander.”
As names were read out one by one, almost all officers of the Instruction Assault Battalion received promotions. Such a scene of collective promotion was rare even in wartime.
And what excited the soldiers most was yet to come.
“Additionally, all non-commissioned officers who performed excellently in this campaign, including Sergeant Klaus and forty-one others, will be granted the qualification to study at the Potsdam Military Academy.”
“After passing the graduation assessment, they will be directly awarded the rank of Second Lieutenant.”
This time, Klaus and others in the formation completely couldn’t hold it back, their eyes reddening instantly.
In this era of strict hierarchy, crossing from soldier to officer was an almost insurmountable chasm.
For these soldiers from ordinary backgrounds, it was completely a leap in class, a path that could be said to change their destiny…
And now, this path was paved right under their feet.
“Instruction Assault Battalion, all personnel!”
Morin shouted loudly: “Honor is my life!”
“Thud!”
Hundreds of pairs of mud-stained military boots slammed together heavily, and hundreds of hands were raised in unison.
This momentum made the honor guard standing on the red carpet seem somewhat lackluster.
The smile in Albert II’s eyes grew stronger.
“Very good, this kid knows the way~”
After the promotion ceremony ended, next was the medal awarding.
If the promotion just now was a heavy bomb, then the medal awarding ceremony now… was simply like a wholesale market.
More than a dozen attendants behind Albert II walked up carrying trays covered with red velvet.
They were densely packed with various brand-new medals, shining dazzlingly in the sunlight.
“Lieutenant Colonel Friedrich Morin, step forward.”
Morin took another step forward.
Immediately after, Albert II pinned a “Pour le Mérite” (Blue Max), symbolizing one of the highest military honors of the Saxon Army, in the center of Morin’s collar.
To say Morin wasn’t excited right now would be unrealistic…
After all, in the medal collection world before his time travel, this medal was practically priceless.
Albert II didn’t know the real reason for Morin’s excitement. He thought this young officer was stimulated by this “supreme honor,” and immediately smiled and said: “Don’t be excited, Lieutenant Colonel Morin… The contribution you made cannot be measured by this single medal.”
The Emperor waved his hand, and an attendant immediately brought over a separate tray.
Five medals, three campaign commemorative medals.
All for Morin.
Medal fanatic rejoices.