The first day of training was running, the next day was marksmanship training, and the day after that, bayonet drills and trench combat followed.
At the end of a hellish week, the 3rd Platoon barracks area had fallen silent as the grave. The defiance they had shown until then had vanished without a trace. The soldiers were exhausted, too busy trying to rest.
None dared voice a complaint. In just one week, I had taken complete control of the 3rd Platoon.
Of course, the process hadn't been entirely smooth.
Crushing Gunter on the first day had been only the beginning. Simply instilling fear and training them wasn't enough to fix their rotten attitudes.
From the following day, cunning resistance began. A guy asking to be excused, claiming he had twisted his ankle during training. A guy who had “accidentally” lost supplies. A guy who craftily pretended not to understand orders and slacked off. Besides Gunter, there were maggots everywhere testing my patience.
Each time, my skill [Status Analysis] demonstrated its power.
“Hurk, Lieutenant! My ankle... my ankle hurts too much, I can’t...!”
I nearly burst into laughter at the pathetic acting. Inwardly sneering, I activated my skill.
‘Status Analysis.’
An information window unfailingly appeared before the soldier feigning illness.
[Name: Fritz]
[Status: Dissatisfaction with training, slight tension due to feigning illness]
‘Tension from feigning illness? This bastard...’
I patted Fritz’s shoulder and spoke.
“Oh dear, oh dear. This is truly serious.”
For a moment, the bastard showed a relieved expression at my kindness. But the real show began after that.
“Isn’t it? But from what I see, it doesn’t seem serious enough for the infirmary, so while your comrades are training, go dig in the dirt behind the barracks in full gear. If you don’t move your body, it’ll only ache more.”
The moment I finished speaking, Fritz’s face turned deathly pale. Soon, Fritz was dragged away.
“I-I’m sorry! Platoon Leader...!! Please, just this once...!”
The barracks rang with the bastard’s pleas. But I didn’t bat an eye. His screams gradually faded, and eventually the barracks fell silent.
Thud, thud, thud! Except for the sound of digging behind the barracks, that is.
Gulp. The Adam’s apple of the guy who, just moments ago, had been waiting his turn clutching his stomach bobbed heavily. He quietly lowered his hand from his belly.
“Anyone else... in pain?”
No one answered.
In truth, the most troublesome ones weren’t simply those playing tricks. The truly dangerous ones were those harboring deep resentment and inciting others. I kept [Status Analysis] active throughout the training period. I used it like a radar scanning the entire platoon.
On the fourth day, during marksmanship training, a soldier dropped his shell casing. At that moment, a faint smile touched the lips of a Corporal named Kurt.
I immediately used my skill on him.
[Name: Kurt]
[Status: Strong hostility toward the newly commissioned officer, dissatisfaction with his waning influence, implicit incitement of slacking]
‘...Implicit incitement of slacking? This bastard...?’
That night, I summoned Kurt separately.
“Is the training manageable, Corporal Kurt?”
“Yes, Platoon Leader.”
He feigned calm.
“During today’s training, several soldiers’ movements were unusually sluggish. As if they had made some sort of arrangement.”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
His pupils shook faintly. At that moment, the information window flashed.
[Status: Flustered, anxiety at having his plan seen through]
“Are you anxious?”
I threw an arm around Kurt’s shoulder. He flinched. Yet he continued lying.
“I-I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Heh, you’re quite the hopeless one.”
I released his shoulder and stepped back. Then, his eyes sparkled for a moment. He seemed to think he had weathered the crisis. Kurt straightened his posture, as if he had never trembled, and opened his mouth.
“Platoon Leader. Damaging a soldier’s honor with baseless suspicion is...”
“The Company Commander has delegated full authority to me.”
I cut him off.
“The authority to immediately transfer any soldier from the 3rd Platoon, should they prove disobedient or harmful.”
I paused and stared straight into his eyes. Kurt’s eyes were trembling.
“For example, to somewhere like the Eastern Front Pioneer Battalion.”
Eastern Front Pioneer Battalion. The moment that name left my mouth, Kurt’s face went pale.
Here, ‘pioneer’ was not ‘pioneer’ in the ordinary sense. It was a concept similar to combat engineers in a modern army, taking the very vanguard of battle to clear a path. That was precisely why it was named ‘Pioneer.’
Roughly speaking, clearing minefields, breaching barbed wire and trench lines, building bridges for river crossings, vanguard assaults, and so on. They carried out the most dangerous-sounding missions on the Eastern Front, the sector with the lowest survival rate. Supplies didn’t reach them properly, and the moment autumn arrived, harsh cold swept through.
It was practically called a soldier’s grave. A sort of penal unit for legally disposing of soldiers who had broken discipline or fallen out of favor.
Therefore, the moment he heard that name, Kurt’s attitude changed. His face lost all color. His jaw began to chatter as if he were freezing.
“P-Platoon Leader. Th-that is...”
Thud! Finally, Kurt slammed his forehead against the floor.
“I was wrong! Platoon Leader! I... I committed a mortal sin!”
His words were slurred with terror. He crawled forward and tried to grab my boot. I lightly pulled my foot away. Perhaps taking that as rejection, he finally began to weep.
“J-just...! M-mercy...!”
‘Status Analysis.’
An information window unfailingly appeared in my vision.
[Name: Kurt]
[Status: Extreme terror for his own safety, intense desire to survive, absolute intent to submit]
Fear. And a desperate desire to live. This much wasn’t an act.
“I... I lost my mind for a moment! I was incited by others...! Please, give me just one chance, and I will serve you like a dog! I’ll do anything you ask...!”
He repeatedly smashed his forehead against the floor in supplication. Blood trickled from his torn forehead, but he didn’t stop. I watched for a moment before speaking.
“Head up.”
Kurt’s movements stopped. He slowly raised his head and looked up at me. His face, smeared with blood and tears, was a pathetic sight.
“By tomorrow morning, finish with your own hands everything you started. Otherwise, your military career ends right there.”
“Yes! Yes, I understand! Thank you, Platoon Leader!”
The next morning at roll call. While the platoon stood in formation, Kurt was in the very front row. The skin beneath his eyes was dark and corpse-like, as if he hadn’t slept a wink.
As usual, I received the headcount and relayed the training schedule. Then I added at the end.
“Ah, and I met with the Company Commander yesterday. He promised to specially send anyone in our platoon with particularly poor training results or lax discipline to the Eastern Front. Any volunteers?”
A chilling silence fell. At that moment, every platoon member’s gaze turned in unison to one spot. It was Kurt. Trembling all over, he hung his head at my words.
Fear is contagious. In the eyes of the platoon members looking at Kurt, curiosity was replaced by spreading dread.
“All personnel, prepare for training.”
At my low command, the platoon members flinched as if lashed by a whip and scattered. As they gathered their arms and readied their equipment, voices could be heard here and there.
“...Did you see that? Corporal Kurt, I mean.”
“His face was completely... Damn, I was going to fake sick yesterday.”
“Shut up. The Platoon Leader might be listening.”
One soldier looked around in alarm.
“How did he know? That Corporal Kurt was talking to us behind his back...”
“Who knows, shit. Did someone snitch?”
It was then. A shadow suddenly fell over a soldier who had been slow to prepare for training. It was Kurt.
“Hans! You crazy bastard! Get your head in the game!”
Smack! Kurt struck Hans on the back of the head. The struck Hans turned to him with a dumbfounded face, but he couldn’t say a word at Kurt’s murderous gaze.
“Get it together, you bastard!”
With that, Kurt was the first to ready his gear and bolted out of the barracks. Faster and more precise than anyone.
*
Rumors about the 3rd Platoon spread throughout the company in an instant.
“Hey. Look at those 3rd Platoon guys.”
“...Haven’t they changed somehow?”
“Changed? They’ve become a completely different unit.”
A corporal from the 2nd Platoon standing nearby lowered his voice and spoke.
“Did you hear? That new 3rd Platoon Leader—there’s a rumor he can read minds.”
“Come on, Corporal Steiner, we all know you’re feeding us bullshit again. Does that even make sense?”
One private snickered, but the corporal’s expression was serious.
“It’s true. There was a guy feigning illness, and the Platoon Leader tapped his shoulder once and saw right through him. They say the guy dug dirt behind the barracks until sunset that day.”
“...Whoa, for real?”
Just then, a sergeant sitting nearby cut in.
“Forget that, do you know what happened to that bastard Kurt? He was acting like the king of the 3rd Platoon, then overnight he became the Platoon Leader’s dog. They say he struck his own platoon member in the back of the head, desperate to make himself look good by any means.”
“Corporal Kurt, you say? What happened?”
“The rumor is... that Platoon Leader said exactly one sentence when they were alone. ‘Do you want to go to the Eastern Front Pioneer Battalion?’”
“That man is no ordinary officer. They say he crushed Staff Sergeant Gunter the moment he took command.”
“...Isn’t he crazy...?”
“Watch your mouth, bastard.”
Thwack. The corporal struck the private’s head, and the banter ended. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a single lie in the rumors.