This question left Morin completely puzzled.
Mackensen was, after all, an Army Lieutenant General and a familiar elder, and he was currently holding a document in his hand.
Although Morin was not from a ‘big province for passing the civil service exam’ in his past life, he knew that this was definitely not the time to interrupt a superior…
Seeing Morin’s frustrated yet hesitant look, General Mackensen continued:
“I’m not a man-eating beast, why are you so afraid of me?”
This time, Morin didn’t hesitate and nodded very straightforwardly.
“Yes, General.”
Unexpectedly, his honest answer caused the corner of General Mackensen’s mouth to twitch upwards slightly; it seemed he was smiling.
“Heh, you’ve certainly gotten bolder.”
The General’s voice carried a subtle hint of amusement.
“The old you would have been too scared to say a word right now, even if I asked you a question, you would only be looking down…”
Hearing this, Morin felt even more contempt for the original owner of this body.
My friend, how much of a coward were you before!
But it’s okay, I’m a coward too…
Silence fell in the room again for a while.
“It seems the military really is a good place to temper a person.”
General Mackensen suddenly sighed, then picked up another document from his side, glanced at it, and handed it to Morin.
“Take a look.”
Morin took the document with some confusion.
Upon opening it, he saw it appeared to be an attachment to a combat report submitted by the 16th Brigade Staff Headquarters.
The specific content was a compilation of combat records for officers and soldiers who performed exceptionally well in the Seville defense battle, reported by the various battalions, companies, and platoons.
The page General Mackensen handed him was exactly his own combat record.
It detailed every engagement since he became Platoon Leader, including forward reconnaissance, clearing a machine gun nest, bayonet charging on the high ground, organizing street fighting, leading men in manually assembling the anti-armor warhead…
As Morin stared blankly at the record, General Mackensen’s voice sounded again.
“Honestly, when I first saw this combat record, my initial reaction was…”
The old General paused, leaning forward slightly, and stared into Morin’s eyes.
“That you, you rascal, were using my Mackensen name to your advantage! That you had befriended Paul and the staff officers of the 16th Brigade, and were fabricating combat merits together to gild your reputation?!”
These words left Morin momentarily unsure how to respond.
He couldn’t fathom how flawed and unreliable the original owner of this body must have been…
To leave such a deeply entrenched negative stereotype in the old General’s mind?
General Mackensen quickly continued:
“So, I specifically had your combat report cross-referenced with the documents submitted by young von Seeckt, and the combat records obtained from the International Brigade.”
His finger gently tapped another document on the desk.
“The three reports described the same battle from different angles… Although the details had minor discrepancies, the core content was astonishingly consistent.”
“If only Ludwig had said it, I wouldn’t have completely believed it. After all, you two are somewhat acquainted, and that young man might have been won over by a few drinks from you.”
“But there was also corroboration from the International Brigade… They are not like Saxon nobles; your ‘tricks’ from the ballrooms wouldn’t work on them.”
“It was only then that I dared to believe that this combat record, which reads as exciting as a novel, was entirely true.”
At this point, Mackensen let out a long sigh, his voice filled with relief, astonishment, and a hint of… regret.
“Friedrich… I regret it.”
The old General leaned back in his chair, looking at Morin, his gaze much softer now.
“I regret not kicking you into the army sooner, you young scamp.”
“If I had made you join the army earlier, you wouldn’t have wasted so many precious years at the dance halls in Dresden.”
This sudden praise left Morin feeling awkward, but General Mackensen continued speaking.
“And what I didn’t expect even more,” Mackensen’s tone became surprised again, “is that you actually became a spellcaster.”
He pointed to another document on the desk, which was Major General Paul’s special report about Morin submitting the spell manuals and awakening his spellcasting ability.
“You, you rascal, how many more surprises are you hiding that I don’t know about?”
Faced with the old General’s string of emotions and questions, Morin was momentarily speechless.
He simply chose the safest course of action—maintaining silence.
He sat quietly in the chair, not speaking, allowing Mackensen to scrutinize him.
This reaction, ironically, earned him Mackensen’s approval.
See? When luck comes, you can’t stop it.
“Hmm, indeed much more composed.”
Lieutenant General Mackensen nodded approvingly:
“Knowing what to say and what not to say is a good habit… In the military, silence is sometimes more powerful than any words.”
The atmosphere in the room was no longer so oppressive after this exchange.
Mackensen, for once, seemed willing to talk openly.
“Tell me, the tactical details reported in the combat records, and that ‘shaped charge anti-armor warhead’—how did you come up with them?”
The old General asked with keen interest: “I’ve reviewed your files from the Lichterfelde Central Military Academy. Your grades in the tactics courses were only slightly above average, and these things certainly weren’t taught in military school.”
“Reporting, General.”
Morin carefully chose his words and began slowly: “The anti-armor warhead originated purely from an accidental discovery. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, but I didn’t expect it to be so helpful in this battle… However, it was mainly thanks to the chemistry professor and the skilled workers in the International Brigade.”
“As for those tactical details, General, I just didn’t want to die.”
“Oh?” Mackensen raised an eyebrow.
Morin: “In the first battle at San Isidro Village, I personally watched our Saxon soldiers charge the enemy position bravely, in neat, dense formations.”
Morin’s voice became slightly low, vivid images of the brutal scenes flashing through his mind.
“Then, they fell in swathes like cut wheat, under the enemy’s machine gun fire.”
“I didn’t want to die charging like them. That would be heroic, but also meaningless. So I began to think, was there another way to reduce casualties and still accomplish the mission.”
“And then you came up with those tactics of using squads or small teams to advance rapidly, covering each other?” Mackensen pressed.
“Yes, General.”
Morin nodded, and realizing that Mackensen clearly had his own thoughts on this subject, he continued:
“I believe that with the widespread adoption of machine guns and rapid-fire artillery today, traditional line infantry tactics are no longer suitable… A soldier’s life should not be so easily thrown away.”
Listening to Morin’s words, Mackensen sank into deep contemplation.
A complex light gradually flickered in his sharp eyes.
As a battle-hardened veteran, he was fully aware that the times had changed.
The emergence of new weapons—machine guns, hydro-pneumatic recoil artillery, and larger-caliber heavy cannons—had fundamentally altered the nature of warfare.
Traditional line infantry tactics were increasingly becoming a form of mass suicide in the face of these increasingly specialized killing tools.
The Saxon Army, and indeed the armies of the entire world, desperately needed a tactical revolution.
But the problem was that the entire Imperial Army was built upon this tactical framework.
From soldier training to officer command, a deep-seated model had been established.
How easy was it to change?
It would require a complete military ideological revolution, from top to bottom.
“Didn’t want to die…” Mackensen repeated the three words softly, his gaze growing deeper.
Perhaps, the key to change lay hidden within this most fundamental desire for survival.
(End of this Chapter)
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