Morin had finally achieved his dream life: staying in the safe rear, engaging in research work, and not having to risk his life on the front lines.
Of course, reality differed slightly from the ideal—he was the one being researched.
Now, every morning at six o’clock, Morin would be woken up punctually by his biological clock… This wasn’t some cultivated habit; he was purely woken up by hunger.
The body modified by the second-generation “Sentinel” modification potion had a terrifyingly fast metabolism…
So much so that Morin briefly suspected if some weird stuff had been mixed into this potion.
Judging from some prompt information provided by the system regarding his physical condition, at least during the current stage where the potion was taking effect, this extremely high metabolic rate would be maintained.
And from a certain perspective, the way this modification potion developed by Heinrich “produced effects,” compared to other alchemical potions, seemed to conform more to the “science” Morin understood… or rather, conformed to the conservation of energy?
At least the drastic changes in his body were all based on his intake of massive amounts of energy, and through exercise, reasonably applying the ingested energy to all parts of his body…
But this also made Morin feel like a high-performance engine that never stopped, constantly consuming vast amounts of fuel at all times.
“Hungry again…” Morin rubbed his belly and climbed out of bed.
The room was filled with a faint smell of disinfectant, but more prominently, the aroma of food.
On the nightstand, there was always a lunchbox containing the “emergency food” prepared for him by the medical center, usually a few solid Saxon sausages and a large piece of bread.
Morin polished off the “emergency food” in a few quick bites, feeling the burning sensation in his stomach alleviate slightly.
He downed a large glass of water, then walked shirtless to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room.
The male figure in the mirror had increasingly defined body lines day by day.
The muscles and fat that had significantly shrunk due to the prolonged coma had, in just over a month, become full and brimming with a sense of power again.
Every muscle looked as if it had undergone the most precise sculpting, containing explosive power.
“With this physique, going to be a fitness coach would be invincible. I’d probably have weak legs every day…”
“Say, does this count as a ‘Saxon-style perky butt’?”
Morin smiled somewhat narcissistically, struck a few “bodybuilding poses” in front of the mirror, and then pinched his own arm.
Hard as a rock.
This wasn’t a pleasant-sounding description, but a fact—even he felt this muscle density was somewhat beyond common sense.
After simply washing up, Morin changed into a loose training uniform and pushed the door open.
And people from the research team were already waiting for him in the corridor.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Colonel.” A young-looking assistant wearing glasses greeted him respectfully.
“Good morning. What’s for breakfast today?”
Morin asked casually while walking. This had already become his most concerned question every day.
Yes, he had indeed just eaten the “emergency food.”
But just as the literal meaning implies, that portion was only used for “emergencies.” The proper three meals a day were still indispensable.
“We have prepared fried eggs, bacon, grilled fish, a whole roast chicken, and plenty of milk and bread for you.” The assistant reported while writing something on the clipboard in his hand.
Morin nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t because he thought the portion was small, but because he was almost tired of eating these categories.
No matter how the kitchen tossed about, the food of this period obviously couldn’t reach the rich degree of before Morin’s transmigration, so eating it for such a long time, Morin had long begun to get tired of it.
But being able to achieve the current level was already good. The Saxon Empire had long begun to integrate and digest those foreign territories occupied since last year, and transported back a large amount of grain, temporarily solving the food shortage crisis.
Otherwise, whether the dishes on the daily menu could maintain their current richness would be a big problem…
“By the way, Mr. Lieutenant Colonel… Master Haber instructed that the training intensity this morning needs to be increased by another five percent.” The assistant added.
“Got it.” Morin curled his lips.
Ever since confirming Morin had acquired some sort of “superhuman physique,” these researchers had treated him as some kind of “competition-grade Saxon Superman” who constantly needed to break his limits.
Besides eating, his training schedule was packed full every day.
From heavy strength training to long-distance aerobic endurance, to various simulated practical combat reaction speed tests.
This made Morin feel like he was back in the military academy before transmigrating—no, it should be said it was much more ruthless than back then… The training back then at least had an end, but now this bunch seemed to think his limits were infinite.
In the dining room, a hearty breakfast was already laid out on Morin’s exclusive table.
He sat down and, facing the mountain of food, began his daily “refueling” operation.
The surrounding researchers of the medical center were long used to this sight.
At first, some people would cast surprised glances, but now, at most, everyone would just sigh inwardly, “Mr. Lieutenant Colonel has a really good appetite.”
While devouring his food, Morin could still divide his attention to listen to the chatter of the people around him. It could be considered his few sources of information in this boring life.
After finishing breakfast and resting for a short while waiting for the ingested food to digest, Morin was taken directly to the comprehensive training room specially modified for him.
This place was like a top-tier gym, with all kinds of training equipment available, and even some bizarre contraptions Morin couldn’t name. It was said they were captured from Gaul and the United Kingdom of Flanders to test the amplifying effects of magic on the body.
Several researchers were already waiting inside. Seeing Morin enter, they immediately gathered around and recorded his basic data for the day.
“Mr. Lieutenant Colonel, we’ll start with the bench press today,” said a middle-aged researcher who looked like the leader. “Target weight five hundred kilograms, eight sets, six reps per set.”
“Understood, let’s begin…”
Master Haber and another older mage named Haeckel soon arrived at the comprehensive training room with a large group of people, closely observing Morin’s training.
They all held clipboards, occasionally writing down some data.
“The strength growth curve still shows no sign of slowing down.”
Master Haber watched Morin effortlessly lift and lower the training equipment, a trace of marvel in his tone: “This completely defies any biological laws we know… The efficiency of his muscle fibers tearing and rebuilding is terrifyingly high.”
“More crucially, his magical affinity.”
Mage Haeckel’s gaze was locked onto a magitech instrument nearby, flashing with different runes: “Look, under high-intensity exercise, his body spontaneously absorbs free magic from the surroundings. It should be used to repair the body and enhance functions…”
“This process is very weak, but it indeed exists… This shows that the potion is fundamentally altering Lieutenant Colonel Morin’s constitution.”
In the training room, immersed in his own world and feeling the pleasure of his strength growing bit by bit, Morin didn’t know the two “big shots” nearby were evaluating him.
This feeling was very wonderful, as if an abyss resided within his body; no matter how much he trained, he couldn’t feel a limit.
Every day, he could clearly feel himself becoming stronger than yesterday.
And this “positive feedback” obviously increased Morin’s interest in the boring training.
The high-intensity training lasted until noon. Even with a physique as strong as Morin’s now, under this kind of training attempting to unearth the body’s limits, he would still find it unbearable.
Lunch was still a massive amount of food… But Morin at this time every day was just mechanically stuffing food into his mouth.
As for what these foods actually tasted like, he could no longer carefully distinguish them, or rather, he had no mind to care whether they were delicious or not.
As long as it could fill his stomach and provide enough energy, it was fine…
During these days, Morin also had several rounds of blood drawn by the research team.
According to Master Haber, this collected blood, combined with the two bottles of modification potion brought out from the underground laboratory, might be able to create the first batch of “side-effect-free” potions.
It was just that all this required time to realize, and the cost of trial and error was very high.
After all, the potions brought out from the underground research institute were limited, and Heinrich, who understood this modification potion best, was also dead…
Besides matters related to his own body, Morin would also handle some important matters regarding the construction of the instruction unit during this period.
These relevant documents were generally reported directly to the General Staff by Kleist and the others, and then delivered to the medical center by a liaison officer specially assigned by the General Staff.
Because structurally, before being reinforced to any unit, the instruction unit was still a unit directly subordinate to the Army General Staff.
This day, just as Morin felt he was about to go crazy from boredom in this day-after-day life, a lieutenant sent by the General Staff to deliver information knocked on his ward door.
“Lieutenant Colonel Morin.”
The lieutenant was a serious-looking young man—to reach this rank in the General Staff at this age, if he wasn’t a God of War like Morin, then he must have some background like Morin.
And this young lieutenant with a “von” in his name obviously belonged to the latter.
He saluted Morin and then handed over a thick folder.
“These are documents sent from the General Staff. They need your review and opinions.”
Morin was actually quite familiar with this lieutenant, because he had been responsible for point-to-point liaison between the Army General Staff and Morin these days.
According to what this lieutenant inadvertently revealed while chatting with Morin a couple of days ago, a whole bunch of people in the General Staff were fighting for this “liaison officer” job…
Taking the folder from the other party and opening it, a familiar smell of ink hit his face.
The title of the document inside lifted Morin’s spirits.
“Trial Plan on the Comprehensive Promotion of the Construction of Division-Affiliated Independent Assault Battalions in the Army”
“Hey, finally some serious business to do.”
Morin sat up straight at once, his eyes becoming focused, then gently waved his hand, signaling the lieutenant could leave first and rest on his own.
“Sir, I was ordered to wait here until you finish reviewing.” The lieutenant stood ramrod straight.
“Wait until I finish reviewing?” Morin looked at the thickness of the document, and then at this lieutenant with a face that said “I’m doing things according to regulations.”
“Then I guess you probably won’t be able to go back today. Go next door and ask the nurse for a cup of coffee. Um… bring one for me too while you’re at it.”
The lieutenant opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but looking at Morin’s unquestionable gaze, he finally nodded.
“Yes, sir!”
Watching the lieutenant’s departing back, Morin smiled and completely focused his attention on the document.
The boring days were finally over.
Morin flipped through the document page by page, his eyes growing brighter the more he read.
This plan, drafted by the Army General Staff and preliminarily approved by Chief of the General Staff Moltke the Younger, could be considered the most brilliant flower bloomed on the tactical level by the instruction unit he single-handedly created.
The core idea of the plan was very clear: using the instruction unit as a template, establish an independent, specially trained and enhanced assault battalion in every infantry division of the Saxon Imperial Army.
This battalion-level unit would no longer undertake conventional line-holding tasks.
Instead, it would serve as a sharp knife in the hands of the division commander, specifically used to tear open the enemy’s sturdy defense lines, execute high-risk penetrations and infiltrations, or be thrown into the battlefield at critical moments to become the decisive reserve force.
“Battalion-level unit… this choice is very much on point.” Morin tapped his finger on the desk.
Having experienced a large amount of combat in this era, Morin knew too well that for the massive armies of this period, the battalion was the foundation of all tactical execution.
Orders from the Supreme Command, broken down layer by layer through army groups, armies, and divisions…
Ultimately falling to implementation, often required a certain infantry battalion or several infantry battalions to capture a certain high ground, a certain street, or a certain bridge within a specified time.
The regiment and brigade levels mostly undertook administrative functions…
Setting this elite force at the battalion level meant it could act as a complete tactical unit, independently and efficiently accomplishing a specific combat objective.
Without needing to undergo cumbersome coordination with other units when executing missions like smaller-scale companies and platoons.
“Stormtroopers (Sturmtruppen)…” Morin softly read out the name for this new unit on the document, the corners of his mouth unavoidably turning up.
This name implied that they would sweep and destroy all enemies before them like a storm.
“It has that flavor…”
This was simply a replica of the “Stormtroopers” created by the German army at the end of WWI in another world.
It’s just that in this world possessing extraordinary power, the potential of this unit was obviously much greater.
Morin closed the document, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and began to conceive the future of this unit in his mind.
Before more advanced individual weapons and communication methods were invented, the pure infantry assault tactics had actually been pretty much figured out by the instruction unit.
From firepower configuration, squad coordination, to battlefield communication, artillery guidance… a complete and mature system had been established.
Now, since the Army was going to comprehensively promote the current system, the instruction unit had to take a new step forward.
“Next step… it should be time for motorization and mechanization.”
Morin opened his eyes, an excited light flashing in them.
After achieving a certain military rank and combat record in this world, Morin had always hoped to establish a true Panzergrenadier unit possessing rapid mobility and powerful assault capabilities.
Using tracked armored vehicles to transport well-equipped infantry, under the cover of artillery and Armored Knights, cutting open the enemy’s defense lines cleanly like a red-hot knife.
Even relying on mobility to go deep behind enemy lines, disrupt their command systems, and destroy their supply lines.
This was the ultimate form of land warfare for a period in the future!
Morin believed he had to always keep the instruction unit one step, or even several steps, ahead of the entire army.
Only in this way could new, mature tactical ideas continuously radiate to the entire army like sowing seeds.
“Thinking a bit too far ahead…” Morin shook his head, pulling his thoughts back.
Meals must be eaten bite by bite; roads must be walked step by step.
The most urgent matter right now was still to set up the framework of this “Stormtrooper.”
Just then, that young lieutenant walked in carrying two steaming cups of coffee.
“Sir, your coffee.”
“Thanks.” Morin took the coffee and took a small sip. The liquid and the rich bitterness refreshed him.
“Lieutenant Aaron, we’ve been working together for so many days, still so nervous… sit.”
Morin pointed to another chair beside him, and then continued: “You’ve stayed in the General Staff for so long. Chat with me, besides what’s written on the document, is there any other talk about this plan over at the General Staff?”
Aaron hesitated for a moment, but still sat down as told, though only sitting on half of his butt.
“Sir, this plan has caused a great deal of discussion within the General Staff.”
Aaron worded carefully.
“There are many voices of support, especially those observers who returned from the Western Front. Most of them have witnessed the combat records of the instruction unit with their own eyes.”
“What about opposing voices? There must be some, right?” Morin asked with a smile.
“There… there are a few.” Aaron’s voice lowered.
“Mainly some old-school generals. They believe… believe this will break the existing unit organization, and organizing such an elite unit consumes too many resources, which will affect the supply of other regular units.”
“Resources… this is indeed a problem.” Morin nodded.
A “Stormtrooper” unit completely organized according to the configuration of the instruction unit, whether it’s personnel selection, training, or the distribution of weapons and equipment, the cost is far higher than an ordinary infantry battalion.
Just the mass distribution of MP14 submachine guns and MG14 light machine guns, plus a large number of machine guns and hand grenades, is a huge expense…
This point could be seen from the massive amount of ammunition consumed by the instruction unit in past battles, as well as encountering some supply difficulty problems.
The first batch of over a hundred divisions to undergo related construction means over a hundred such battalions. Adding them all up is indeed an astronomical figure.
“However, His Excellency the Chief of the General Staff rejected all dissenting views and is determined to implement this plan.”
Lieutenant Aaron thought for a moment and added: “He said the instruction unit and some units conducting their own experiments on the Western Front have already proven the feasibility of this system with a massive amount of battle results… If we are reluctant to spend money on peaceful training grounds, then we will have to spend ten times the money, and soldiers’ lives, on the cruel battlefield.”
“Ho… I didn’t expect His Excellency the Chief of the General Staff to actually see this point so clearly.” Morin praised from the bottom of his heart.
He knew that although Moltke the Younger’s reputation in the history of another world was not good, his ranking could go straight to “trash”…
But in this world, at least in military reform, he showed sufficient boldness and foresight.
Morin continued to flip through the document, finding that it not only contained macroscopic guiding opinions but also many specific execution details.
And this led to the next document.
Morin put down the “Guiding Opinions” in his hand and picked up the second document.
“Proposal on the Construction of the ‘Assault Infantry Experimental Combat Academy'”
“I knew it, the supporting services must keep up.” Morin smiled.
With just unit organization and weapons and equipment, but without qualified commanders and tactical thinking, this Stormtrooper unit would just be an empty shell, unable to exert its due combat power.
So the Army General Staff wasn’t just going to organize troops; they also had to establish a school.
A school specifically used to train the backbone of the “Stormtroopers.”
Morin looked at that name on the document, the corners of his mouth uncontrollably turning up slightly.
“Assault Infantry Experimental Combat Academy…”
This simply coincided exactly with his positioning of the instruction unit.
“It seems the General Staff intends to completely fix the model of the instruction unit and carry it forward.” Morin thought to himself, a smile appearing on his face.
He continued reading. The document elaborated in detail on the organizational structure and functions of the academy.
And when he saw the column for the appointment of the academy president, his whole person was stunned.
“President: Friedrich von Morin, Army Lieutenant Colonel.”
“…Me, the president?”
“Lieutenant Colonel, why are you so surprised?”
Lieutenant Aaron’s expression was one of taking it for granted.
“This academy was originally established based on this tactical concept of yours. If you don’t serve as the president, I think no one else probably can?”
Seeing Morin’s somewhat conflicted expression, Lieutenant Aaron also quickly realized what Morin was truly worried about, so he hastily added: “By the way, Lieutenant Colonel, it’s just for you to hold a titular position…”
“The daily management of the academy will be handled by dedicated vice presidents and provosts. You, Lieutenant Colonel, only need to grasp the general direction and formulate the teaching and training syllabus…”
Hearing this, Morin breathed a sigh of relief.
Asking him to charge into battle, he could do it without blinking an eye.
But asking him to handle those cumbersome administrative affairs, he’d rather die.
“Titular is good, titular is good.” Morin nodded repeatedly.
However, even if titular, the weight of this “President” title was truly not light.
This meant he would bear direct responsibility for the cultivation of all future backbone officers of the Stormtroopers.
The development direction of the assault tactics of the entire Imperial Army would be steered by him.
This responsibility was much heavier than directly commanding a battalion or a regiment of the instruction unit.
In a sense, it could also be considered going to “teach and educate people.” The burden on his shoulders obviously couldn’t be light either.
“Lieutenant Colonel, you seem to be under a lot of pressure?” Lieutenant Aaron asked, looking at Morin’s changing expression.
Morin curled his lips: “Isn’t that nonsense… this isn’t some ordinary academy~”
Soon, Morin stopped agonizing over his appointment.
What he cared more about was another matter.
The school is there, and the students are there.
Then, where will the teachers come from?
This question hovered in Morin’s mind for an instant, and the answer immediately surfaced.
He didn’t even need to think too much.
Because the most suitable candidates had always been right beside him—
In many previous battles, including the operation in the Paris underground laboratory, the instruction unit had actually always maintained a certain casualty rate.
For the soldiers who died in battle, the Empire would give them the highest honors and generous pensions, and their families would be well taken care of.
This was the promise Morin had secured from Crown Prince Georg at the beginning of establishing the instruction unit.
But there was another group of people whose situation was somewhat awkward.
They were severely injured in battle. Although their lives were saved after treatment, their bodies suffered permanent damage.
According to the relevant regulations of the Saxon Empire, their disability level had not yet reached the standard for honorable discharge.
Theoretically, they should continue serving in the army until the end of the war…
But their physical condition truly could no longer bear the almost perverse training intensity and combat missions of the “Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit.”
Forcing them to keep up with the unit’s pace was not only a secondary injury to their bodies but also irresponsible to the combat power of the entire squad.
How to resettle this batch of veterans had always been a headache for Morin, Kleist, and the others.
After all, he wasn’t someone like Patton…