In fact, early on, Kleist had proposed transferring these specially recovered veteran soldiers to civilian posts in the rear.
It could be considered a form of taking care of these veterans.
But Morin felt that these veterans, who belonged to the “Army Elite,” had their own pride, and most of them probably didn’t want to transfer to civilian posts.
The subsequent random opinion polling of these recovered veterans also confirmed Morin’s judgment.
Aside from a very few who accepted this suggestion, most of the recovered veterans, when consulted, thought it was because they were dragging the instruction unit down and might therefore be abandoned by this elite team.
And this was something they couldn’t accept.
Because in the eyes of these soldiers of ordinary birth, being able to become a member of the “Imperial Guard Assault Instruction Unit” was already the greatest honor they could achieve in this lifetime.
The gazes of admiration, envy, and respect from friendly forces in other units also made these soldiers believe they had to defend this honor to the death for the rest of their lives.
So when they learned they might be transferred to other units to serve in civilian roles, many almost broke down on the spot.
They excitedly patted the Iron Crosses worn on their collars, telling Morin, Kleist, and the others that they didn’t want to leave the instruction unit.
Some even directly rushed onto the training ground and started running wildly, hoping to prove through this method that they could still continue to fight in the instruction unit.
And the scene of these agitated instruction unit soldiers running wildly on the training ground, dragging bodies that were visibly less agile than before after recovering from injuries, and striving to overcome obstacles one by one, also made Morin and the regimental headquarters staff on the sidelines “shed manly tears.”
Everyone’s friendship was forged in the flames of war, so Morin, Kleist, and the others actually didn’t want to let these recovered veterans leave either.
Morin was also unwilling to see these soldiers who had fought under his command have all their spirit and glory worn away by injury and illness in the prime of their lives.
So this matter had been stuck here…
And the establishment of this “Assault Infantry Experimental Combat Academy” made Morin realize that this was a highly suitable stage for these recovered veterans to perform on.
“It’s them!”
Morin slapped his thigh violently, startling Lieutenant Aaron beside him.
“Lieutenant Colonel?”
“It’s nothing, I’ve just completely decided on the candidates for instructors!” Morin said excitedly, his eyes flashing with light, the joy of finding the perfect solution.
He grabbed a fresh piece of blank paper and, entering high-speed “divine speech” mode, recorded his thoughts at top speed.
“The academy’s instructors will be served by the recovered soldiers of the instruction unit, and the chief training instructors will also be selected from among them based on merit!”
“The bodies of these recovered soldiers might no longer be suitable for frontline charges, but their brains are still there, their combat experience is still there! Every single one of them crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood; they are all the most excellent assault troops!”
“Having them be instructors to teach those newly arrived rookies is simply perfect!”
The more Morin spoke, the more excited he became, and his voice grew louder.
Naturally, he hoped to settle these veterans under his command well. He didn’t want another tragedy like the one in 1932 in another world (likely referring to the Bonus Army incident)… Even if his current ability wasn’t enough, he could only find a way to shelter the veterans of the instruction unit.
“In a battle, what place is the most dangerous? From which angle is the enemy most likely to pop out? When should a hand grenade be thrown? When should one decisively retreat?”
“These things cannot be taught in traditional infantry training manuals. Only those who have truly experienced the test of death can comprehend the essence within!”
“The scars on these recovered soldiers… these marks of war are the best medals, the most convincing textbooks!”
“Letting these veterans be instructors not only solves their resettlement problem but is also the greatest affirmation of their value!”
“We are telling them the Empire hasn’t forgotten them, the army still needs them! Their experience is the most precious wealth of the entire Saxon Imperial Army!”
Lieutenant Aaron listened dumbfoundedly to Morin’s impassioned speech, only feeling a surge of hot blood rush from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
He seemed to already see that scene:
In a brand-new military academy, a group of battle-hardened instruction unit veterans bearing scars, with serious faces, recounting their personal experiences on the battlefield to the participating soldiers transferred from various units…
The experience and glory of combat would be “passed on” through such teaching, ultimately radiating to the entire Imperial Army.
“Lieutenant Colonel… you… you have thought too thoroughly.”
Lieutenant Aaron’s voice trembled slightly. The look in his eyes towards Morin had changed from initial curiosity to utter worship.
He rarely saw a senior officer like Morin who would put himself in the shoes of the ordinary soldiers under his command so much.
In the eyes of most generals, soldiers were just numbers on a map, mere symbols.
But to Lieutenant Colonel Morin, they were living individuals, battle brothers with glory, dignity, and a future.
Morin didn’t notice the change in Lieutenant Aaron’s expression; he was completely immersed in his own conception.
He clearly organized his thoughts on instructor selection, curriculum setting, and training syllabus into text one by one, ultimately forming a complete supplementary report.
He wrote very fast, his thoughts as clear as if he had drafted them in his mind long ago.
After writing the last word, Morin let out a long breath, feeling his whole body lighten considerably.
This problem that had troubled him for a long time finally had a perfect solution.
He flipped to the bottom of the document and then quickly signed his name.
“Friedrich Morin… alright, it’s done!”
“Lieutenant Colonel, you seem to have missed the ‘von’ in the middle…” Lieutenant Aaron, who was watching Morin sign, reminded him.
“Right, right, right, haven’t gotten used to it yet, suddenly having an extra middle name or whatever…”
Realizing it, Morin carefully added the “von,” the most representative character of Junker nobles, to his signature.
Not long after Emperor Albert II came to visit him last time, he received the title of Baron personally conferred by the Emperor—just the kind without a fief.
Or rather, the land within Saxony had already been parcelled out as fiefs who knows how many years ago…
However, for Morin, this move undoubtedly welded him to the war chariot of the Emperor and the Junker nobles.
Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Morin couldn’t make a firm conclusion right now either.
At the same time, on the correspondence between the Army General Staff and himself, a “von” also quickly appeared in the middle of his name.
Not only that, but the documents on the medical center’s side were also adjusted at the speed of light.
All documents involving Morin’s full name had the middle name “von” added to them.
It could be said that from top to bottom, only Morin, the person involved, wasn’t adapting fast enough…
After re-signing his name, Morin organized this supplementary report along with the previous documents from the General Staff and handed them to Lieutenant Aaron.
“Alright, Lieutenant Aaron, please take these back.”
Morin’s tone was much more relaxed. He also found that he seemed to have a tradition of being protective of his own; when it came to issues involving the troops under his command, he would always think about fighting for more benefits for them.
“Tell the gentlemen of the General Staff that these are my complete opinions… If they still have questions, they can send someone again at any time.”
“Yes! Sir!” Lieutenant Aaron solemnly took the documents, as if taking on a heavy mission.
He stood up and gave Morin a solemn, flawless military salute.
“Sir, I promise I will convey your opinions intact!”
“Go.” Morin waved his hand.
Watching Lieutenant Aaron’s quickly departing back, Morin leaned back in his chair, picked up the cup of coffee that had gone somewhat cold, and drank it in one gulp.
This “seed” he had already sown. As for what it would grow into later, he would just have to wait and see.
Morin knew very well that the current peaceful days were only temporary.
This world, no matter how you looked at it, was “crazier” than the world before his transmigration…
Before the ultimate winner emerged, there would simply be no peace between the various countries, only eternal war.
So this great war sweeping across the entire Europa would highly likely become increasingly tragic. The participating countries would pour resources in regardless of cost to sustain this war.
Because they all knew very well that investment in the military at this stage could not be skimped on. Otherwise, not only would this money not be saved, but it would instead become part of the war reparations…
Morin thought that after his supplementary report was submitted, the Army General Staff would have to hold a few meetings at least. Various departments would need to coordinate and wrangle for a period before there could be a preliminary result.
After all, establishing a brand-new military academy and dealing with the resettlement of a large number of recovered soldiers was considered a major event in any country’s military.
However, he still underestimated the General Staff’s determination and efficiency regarding this new round of military reform.
Just three days later, Lieutenant Aaron appeared in Morin’s ward again with new documents.
Morin opened the folder; inside was a formal order document.
The content of the document was very simple, but its weight was extremely heavy.
The Army General Staff completely adopted all the suggestions of Lieutenant Colonel Friedrich von Morin regarding the establishment of the “Assault Infantry Experimental Combat Academy” and the resettlement of recovered soldiers as instructors.
The order required relevant departments to complete the site selection, construction, and personnel allocation work of the academy in the shortest possible time.
At the end of the document was the personal signature of Chief of the General Staff Helmuth von Moltke.
“This fast?” Morin himself was somewhat surprised.
Hearing Morin’s surprised words, Lieutenant Aaron laughed: “Your Excellency the Lieutenant Colonel, actually this isn’t considered fast… I heard that after His Excellency the Chief of the General Staff read your report, he convened a large group of relevant personnel for a meeting that very night, and then early the next morning, this order was issued.”
“Then what about the academy’s site selection you just mentioned?” Morin pressed.
“Currently, there are two locations preliminarily planned.”
Lieutenant Aaron pointed to the map attached to the document and continued: “The main campus will be located near Koblenz, based on the previous temporary station of your instruction unit, and will undergo large-scale expansion.”
“Koblenz…”
Morin nodded. This place was very memorable to him in every sense.
And in serious analysis, Koblenz was also located at the confluence of the Rhine and Moselle rivers. Since ancient times, it had been a hub for land and water transportation, its strategic position extremely important.
Building the academy here would be very convenient whether for mobilizing trainees from all over the country or rapidly projecting trained backbone forces to the battlefield.
“There is another place.”
Lieutenant Aaron’s finger moved south on the map, ultimately stopping in the Alpine region of southern Bavaria.
“A new training ground will also be established in this area.”
“Alpine region… Mountain training ground?”
Morin looked at this second area and couldn’t help nodding as well.
In his view, the Army General Staff had considered things very thoroughly.
Because future wars would not be limited only to plain areas. Mountains, jungles, and severe cold zones would all become battlefields…
Therefore, as the most elite assault troops, they must possess the ability to maintain basic combat operations in any complex environment.
“This training ground is prepared for conducting combat training in mountainous and severe cold environments. Moreover, this place is remote and surrounded by mountains, which also facilitates conducting some… well, new secret tests.”
Lieutenant Aaron gave Morin a meaningful look.
Morin immediately understood what he meant.
Whether it was himself, this “walking treasure,” or the Saxon version of “super soldiers” that might be developed in the future, they all needed a safe and confidential environment for testing and training.
The deep mountains and old forests of Bavaria were undoubtedly the best choice.
As the preparatory work for the Assault Infantry Academy fully unfolded, Morin’s life became increasingly busy and fulfilling.
During the day, like a captive beast, he sweated profusely in the training room, challenging the limits of his body.
The data recorded by the research team every day presented a steep upward curve, making those experts click their tongues in wonder, calling it a “medical miracle.”
At night, Morin transformed into an academy president working at a desk.
The General Staff continuously sent various documents needing his review, and Morin also found joy in it.
This feeling of devising strategies and planning the future allowed him to find a sense of achievement different from charging and killing on the battlefield.
This afternoon, he had just completed a heavy set of deadlifts and was wondering whether to add more volume when Lieutenant Aaron also arrived at this comprehensive training ground.
Besides the routine official documents, he also brought a tightly wrapped small package.
“Your Excellency the Lieutenant Colonel, this is your private mail forwarded by the General Staff.”
“Mail?” Morin was somewhat surprised.
He knew his situation was top secret. To prevent information leaks, all his connections with the outside world had been cut off.
“Yes, Your Excellency the Lieutenant Colonel.”
Lieutenant Aaron explained: “These letters have gone through strict review by the Intelligence Department of the General Staff. Only after confirming they do not involve any sensitive information were they approved to be forwarded to you.”
“Alright, I got it, put it there.” Morin nodded.
After finishing the training tasks at hand, Morin picked up the small package and tore open the outer packaging.
Inside were several letters of varying thickness.
He first picked up one of the letters; the handwriting on the envelope was Helga’s, full of “engineering student” style.
“Boss:
Greetings.
Although you haven’t returned, Madame Cecilia said you are well, so I am relieved.
Everything is going smoothly on the company’s side, you don’t need to worry!
According to your previous plans, Boss, and Madame Cecilia’s operations, we have formally reached a strategic cooperation agreement with Mauser and the Saxon Weapons and Munitions Factory.
The strength of these two companies is indeed very formidable, especially Mauser; there is much for us to learn from them in the field of precision machining.
Our three parties conducted technology sharing. After some minor modifications, their production lines can already be put into the production of MG14 and MP14. The production capacity problem has been greatly alleviated.
Military orders are still continuously increasing. Many domestic military-industrial enterprises have approached us hoping to cooperate. A large amount of funds enters the company’s account every day. Madame Cecilia said we will soon be able to earn back all the money we invested previously…”
Morin looked at the contents of the letter, a gratifying smile appearing on his face.
When Cecilia proposed the “strategic cooperation” plan back then, Morin agreed to cooperate with these two military-industrial giants exactly because he valued their production capacity and technological foundation.
Looking at it now, this move was extremely correct…
Although Schmeisser Company had advanced designs, and although Cecilia was also trying to expand the factory buildings, the foundation was thin after all. To rapidly increase production capacity, external forces had to be utilized.
Cross-shareholding, technology sharing—this was a very modern business cooperation model, appearing somewhat ahead of its time in this era.
It was also thanks to Cecilia, this very astute rich woman pushing from behind, that it could be reached so smoothly.
He continued reading. Helga’s letters always had the key point at the end.
“…Regarding the semi-automatic rifle you mentioned before, Boss, I have completed the final finalized design.
The military was very satisfied after testing. After signing the contract with us, they formally named it the ‘M1915 Semi-Automatic Rifle’ and placed an order for the first batch of eight thousand rifles.
During the finalization process, I adopted some suggestions from the engineers at Mauser and modified the receiver part so it can accommodate larger capacity magazines.
At first, they provided a 25-round double-stack, double-feed magazine scheme. This idea was very bold and advanced.
But after repeated testing, I found that with our current machining precision, the feeding reliability of this kind of magazine is very poor. Especially in harsh environments, the jamming rate is terrifyingly high.
So, I ultimately changed it back to a 25-round double-stack, single-feed structure.
Although it’s slightly slower in terms of limit rate of fire, reliability has been greatly guaranteed…”
Seeing this, Morin couldn’t help giving Helga a thumbs up in his heart.
“Beautifully done! Helga!”
He knew too well that the double-stack, double-feed magazine Helga mentioned was exactly the magazine used by the M1916 rifle Mauser later developed in another world.
That semi-automatic rifle ultimately failed to be equipped on a large scale. The main reasons, besides high cost, heavy weight, and the barrel heating up too fast…
The biggest problem lay in this overly “advanced” magazine that resulted in lackluster reliability.
Admittedly, this design concept itself is very advanced. In Morin’s impression, the vast majority of assault rifles used the double-stack, double-feed method.
But the problem was, an advanced concept doesn’t mean current technology can perfectly realize it.
With this world’s current metal machining technology and spring manufacturing level, which were similar to the WWI period, making a highly reliable double-stack, double-feed magazine was not a simple matter.
The angle of the feed lips, the strength of the spring, the tolerances of the magazine walls… any tiny flaw could lead to a fatal feeding malfunction.
Helga, as a “native” designer of this world, without his “foresight” as a transmigrator, was able to precisely avoid this huge pitfall relying on her solid professional knowledge and rigorous testing.
So the current “M1915 Semi-Automatic Rifle” was equivalent to a G43 semi-automatic rifle fitted with a 25-round large magazine.
With such a result, “genius girl” could no longer simply describe Helga…
Morin felt he had really picked up a treasure at that cocktail party.
With Helga around, those weapon concepts in his brain could become reality in a perfect and reliable way.
He carefully folded Helga’s letter, put it back in the envelope, and then picked up Cecilia’s letter.
The handwriting of this “Radiant Crystal Queen” didn’t have a strong aura like she did herself. Instead, it was as elegant and fluid as always, and between the lines, it also revealed an unconcealable concern and longing.
“My dear Fritz:”
The beginning of the letter was Cecilia’s usual address, carrying a trace of intimacy.
“Learning that you are safe and sound is the best news I’ve heard lately… Please forgive me for being unable to visit you personally. Some ‘friends’ from the General Staff told me that the place you are at is a top secret of the Empire, and no one is allowed to visit.
I understand and respect the military’s decision. I only hope you can recuperate with peace of mind and recover soon.
Regarding company matters, you need not worry.
The cooperation with Mauser and the Saxon Weapons and Munitions Factory is proceeding very smoothly.
They are all respectable businessmen, knowing that in this war, win-win cooperation is far more important than mutual infighting.
Writing this letter, besides reporting safety to you, there is another important matter to tell you.
Do you still remember asking me to help contact Krupp to discuss developing a new type of anti-armor weapon before?
They… succeeded.”
Seeing this, Morin’s heart jumped violently, his breathing hastening by a third.
He almost impatiently opened an attached letter in Cecilia’s correspondence, written by Krupp’s R&D department to the “minority shareholder” Morin.
The beginning of the letter was formulaic greetings and praise for Lieutenant Colonel Morin’s forward-looking vision in the military field.
Morin skipped these pleasantries directly, quickly locking onto the core part of the letter—the technical parameters regarding that new type of artillery.
“…Following your concept, and combining our company’s and Rheinmetall’s long-term accumulation in the field of artillery manufacturing, we have successfully developed a long-barrel artillery piece specifically for anti-armor combat. Its main technical parameters are as follows:”
“Caliber: 50mm”
“Barrel Length: 3137mm (L/60)”
“Combat Weight: 830 kg”
“Muzzle Velocity: Average approx. 835 m/s (using new 50mm standard APCBC shell)”
“Rate of Fire: 13 rounds per minute (skilled crew)”
“Crew Size: 3-6 people”
“Armor Penetration: At 500 meters distance, can penetrate 65-70mm vertical homogeneous steel armor”
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