As a former military academy cadet, Mo Lin had taken military history courses before transmigrating.
When the curriculum reached the evolution of infantry offensive operations, the instructor had placed particular emphasis on combat during the early stages of World War I.
It was an awkward and brutal time for infantry.
Because during this period, the infantry of various nations still maintained the tradition of dense formations. Although unlike the earlier era of line infantry, the spacing between soldiers had increased to one or two meters, in Mo Lin's eyes it was still essentially lining up to be slaughtered.
This situation persisted until machine guns made their appearance on the historical stage and ruthlessly reaped the lives of vast numbers of soldiers, only then did it begin to change.
And the infantry of this world after Mo Lin's transmigration was clearly also situated right in this "awkward period."
Not to mention, this world seemed to possess so-called "magic" and "magic-guided technology," which likewise posed an enormous threat to infantry setting foot on the battlefield with flesh and blood.
Mo Lin was genuinely starting to panic. He was all too aware that machine gun bullets on the battlefield were "equalizers"—whether you were an officer or a grunt, if you were swept by one you were all reaped like wheat.
Forcibly getting his expression under control so that he still appeared to maintain the "valor" of a Saxon soldier, Mo Lin tentatively opened his mouth and asked:
"Captain, regarding the village that serves as our assault objective, do we know what the enemy force disposition looks like?"
Hearing Mo Lin's question, Captain Hauser's face showed an expression of "good, I knew you'd ask this."
"Battalion command has already sent scouts to make a circuit around the village outskirts," Captain Hauser said.
He used the tip of a pencil to draw a circle around the village on the map.
"What can be confirmed at present is that Aragon's 'Royal Army' is already garrisoned inside, but to avoid tipping them off, the scouts didn't get too close, so the exact numbers are still unclear."
Another taciturn lieutenant platoon leader spoke up to add: "Sir, will there be an artillery preparation?"
"Of course."
Captain Hauser nodded, his tone carrying a few degrees of self-evident confidence.
"A battalion under the brigade artillery regiment will conduct three rounds of rapid fire on the village before the attack commences. That should be enough to scare the guts out of those 'Royal Army' soldiers."
At this point, Captain Hauser pulled a pocket watch from his pocket, then said to the three platoon leaders: "It is now four thirty-seven. The attack will commence at precisely five-oh-seven. Go back and make preparations."
The impromptu combat meeting concluded thusly, and the other two platoon leaders also turned and left.
Before Mo Lin could go, Captain Hauser deliberately walked over to him and reached out to give his shoulder a hard pat.
"I know you just graduated from the academy and came straight to the front lines. It's normal to be nervous your first time in actual combat."
Hauser's voice dropped lower, carrying the care of a senior for a junior.
"I see you don't seem to have brought a pocket watch or wristwatch? That won't do. As an officer, you must have a watch to keep time."
Hearing these words from his company commander, Mo Lin finally realized why he had constantly felt as though something was missing.
Yes, the original owner of this body's pocket watch had already been confiscated during capture.
At the time he was rescued, there had been no chance to search for it, so besides the "system interface," Mo Lin truly had no tool on him to determine the time whatsoever.
As Captain Hauser spoke, he summoned his orderly and had the other man search through his baggage for a cloth bundle.
"This is the pocket watch I used before. However, my wife gave me a new one before we set out, so this watch is temporarily idle. Here—take this and use it for now."
"Huh? Captain, this is too valuable..."
Mo Lin looked at the cloth bundle the other man handed over, feeling somewhat surprised, because for people of this era, a pocket watch was still considered something of a luxury item.
"Just take it when I'm telling you to. I don't want you mishandling the timing and messing things up!"
Captain Hauser stuffed the cloth bundle into Mo Lin's hand without allowing further protest, then continued:
"Relax, Mo Lin. Those 'Royal Army' troops in the village are mostly just farmers forcibly pressed into service. Their will to fight and their quality are far inferior! Most likely, one charge from 1st and 2nd Companies and the battle will be over. It won't even get to the point where our reserve has to enter the fray."
"Then here's hoping you're right, Captain."
"Ahem. Go back and get your troops ready!"
"Yes, sir!"
Mo Lin saluted Hauser, then turned and walked back to his platoon's rest area.
He was very clear in his heart that Captain Hauser's final words were half consolation, half underestimation of the enemy.
But this mentality seemed pervasive in the Saxon army. They possessed a near-blind confidence in their own military's combat effectiveness, while simultaneously feeling utter contempt for the enemy before them.
When things went smoothly, this became high morale, but the moment the tide of battle turned, it could easily devolve into a catastrophic rout.
Mo Lin quickly returned to his unit's rest area and found Platoon Sergeant Klaus, who was inspecting the soldiers' equipment.
"Sergeant Klaus, the attack order has come down. The assault will be launched in roughly thirty minutes."
No ripple crossed Klaus's stern face; only the movement of his hands paused for a moment.
"Yes, sir," he responded in a deep voice. "I will have the squad leaders conduct final checks to ensure the men are in optimal condition."
This veteran with ample experience was keenly aware that this unit was about to face its first bloody battle on foreign soil.
"Please rest assured, I will certainly assist you in commanding the unit well!"
Klaus added this further assurance, which settled Mo Lin's mind slightly.
After communicating with Klaus, Mo Lin found a relatively dry slope to sit on, leaning his back against a thick tree trunk.
The surrounding soldiers had already ceased their conversations. Only the faint clinks of weapons and equipment colliding and the sound of suppressed breathing remained in the wooded area.
He closed his eyes, and the darkness before him was immediately replaced by the familiar UI interface as the massive map unfurled once more.
Mo Lin tried zooming the map in and out, quickly locating the blue unit markers that represented the three battalions subordinate to the 33rd Infantry Regiment. The marker representing 1st Battalion was positioned at the very front of the entire regiment.
Following his will, the map continued to zoom in. The 1st Battalion marker was refined into three smaller icons representing the infantry companies, as well as icons for the battalion headquarters and the battalion transport train.
He could even clearly see that the small icons representing the two supply wagons of 1st Company were staying in the relatively safe rear positions together with the battalion transport train.
This God's-eye view that allowed him to survey the entire situation soothed his chaotic thoughts considerably.
Next, he slowly moved his perspective to this operation's objective—San Isidro Village.
The area of the village was covered by a layer of semi-transparent shadow; this was probably the so-called "fog of war."
Unlike the real-time dynamic markers of friendly units, enemy markers only seemed to appear after being spotted by friendly units.
At this moment, at the center of the village, there was only a lone gray diamond-shaped icon, labeled with the words: [Aragon Royal Army Unit (Strength Unknown) (Armament Unknown)].
This corroborated Captain Hauser's account: the scouts had indeed only taken a distant look and had not acquired any intelligence of value.
Mo Lin tried clicking on that diamond-shaped icon with his will. The system popped up a prompt: [Insufficient Information; Unable to Analyze].
His attention was drawn to another detail on the map.
Three kilometers behind the friendly attack assembly area, the icon of an artillery position was already lit.
He drew his perspective closer and saw that it was an artillery battalion under the brigade artillery regiment.
When Mo Lin focused his consciousness on this artillery battalion's icon, a series of information quickly displayed:
[2nd Field Artillery Battalion, 28th Field Artillery Regiment]
[FK.96n/A 77mm Field Guns × 12]
When Mo Lin saw that the maximum range of this 77mm field gun was 5,500 meters, he also understood the reason why this artillery position was so far forward.
This was not the kind of howitzer that fired high-trajectory shells, but rather a close-support gun. Although its range and power were completely inferior to the former, it made up for it with better mobility and greater flexibility.
Several faint parabolic trajectories extended from the icon, their final impact points covering the majority of the southeastern area of San Isidro Village.
Only... this coverage area was somewhat too large.
This was not the kind of precision fire strike that Mo Lin was familiar with, but more like area fire coverage over a certain zone. Its main purpose was likely truly as Captain Hauser had said—for suppressive fire.
"Fine then. Hopefully it really will be just as Captain Hauser said: the moment the artillery sounds, the enemy will flee in terror."