“What the hell are you all shouting about?! The battle over?! Get the hell out of here! Disperse! Disperse!”
He stepped forward and unceremoniously booted a soldier in the rear.
“Corporal Jonah, Corporal Baumann, and you!” He pointed at another corporal. “Take your squads, advance by fire teams in alternating cover! Mop up the remaining hostiles in the village!”
“Remember! Do not open fire on civilians unless you encounter resistance! Is that clear?!”
“Yes, Lieutenant!”
His roar snapped the three corporals back to their senses—this was no time for celebration. They immediately led their men into the village's street fighting.
As the main force on the front lines broke through and began hand-to-hand combat, the Kingdom Army's resistance in the village swiftly crumbled.
These troops, whose training and organization left much to be desired, could still manage to hide in the distance and take potshots.
But expecting them to have the guts to cross bayonets with these ferocious Saxon soldiers? That was asking too much.
Some Kingdom Army soldiers, realizing which way the wind was blowing, had already slipped away from the other end of the village before the fighting had even ended.
The slower ones were either killed on the spot or meekly threw down their weapons and surrendered.
Saint Isidore Village had finally fallen to the Saxons.
After the battle, the casualty report was quickly submitted to battalion headquarters.
The results left everyone speechless.
True, the Kingdom Army's will to fight had been abysmal—only marginally better than troops who fired their rifles into the air the moment the enemy appeared.
Yet this was precisely the kind of force that Saxon soldiers had dismissed before the battle—and it had made 1st and 2nd Companies, the main assault elements, pay a bloody price on their path of attack.
The command structures of both companies had been shattered—officer casualties exceeded twenty-five percent, while enlisted casualties surpassed thirty-five percent, drastically reducing the combat effectiveness of both rifle companies.
This meant that on the very first day of battle, 1st Battalion under Major Thomas had essentially written off the equivalent of nearly half a rifle company's strength.
In stark contrast stood Captain Hauser's 3rd Company, and especially its 3rd Platoon led by Morin.
Throughout the entire left-flank assault, 3rd Platoon had miraculously suffered no combat casualties whatsoever.
Only two soldiers had twisted their ankles crossing the riverbed, and one had tripped over his own feet in his excitement during the final charge.
To a certain extent, that was zero casualties.
Moreover, according to post-battle statistics, the machine-gun positions they had knocked out from the flank together with the Kingdom Army infantry that had tried to reinforce them totaled at least forty men.
A zero-for-forty exchange ratio was simply unheard of.
When Captain Hauser entered the village with his company headquarters and found Morin, the rough-and-tumble company commander could no longer contain his emotions.
He rushed forward and wrapped Morin in a crushing bear hug, then pounded his shoulders with both hands, repeating the same few words over and over.
“Well done! Well done, Morin!”
The surrounding soldiers of 3rd Company also watched this newly appointed platoon leader—who had taken command only yesterday—with gazes that mixed awe and admiration.
Before this, their respect for the young second lieutenant had stemmed largely from the rank he held.
But now, that respect had become utterly pure and genuine.
The military—especially frontline officers and men in wartime—was fundamentally a group that admired strength.
No matter how eloquently you spoke, it was nothing compared to leading them to more victories and keeping more of them alive.
Since 1st and 2nd Companies had suffered losses during the attack and needed emergency rest and treatment for their wounded, the task of establishing a perimeter defense naturally fell to 3rd Company—which currently had the lightest casualties—after the main force had cleared the village.
Captain Hauser led the main body to face Seville—the direction from which the enemy might counterattack—and used the remaining buildings and low walls to construct a defensive line.
The infantry of this era had yet to develop the concept of large-scale trench warfare, and Morin didn't see a single soldier in the company equipped with an entrenching tool.
Thus, so-called defensive lines generally amounted to relying on buildings and existing earthen walls.
Morin led his 3rd Platoon to continue holding the village's left flank.
Drawing on knowledge from the two military academies he had attended before and after his transmigration, as well as the aid of his system map, he quickly directed the soldiers in fortifying the position.
“Sergeant Klaus, have that captured Vickers machine gun dragged over here and set up on the platform of the mill on the right. If there are grain sacks nearby, pile them up in front of the gun!”
“Corporal Jonah, take 1st Squad and establish an interlocking fire position at the breach beside those houses!”
“Corporal Baumann, 2nd Squad, you're responsible for security on our left flank and inside the village! Have the civilians stay indoors and don't come out!”
Clear, precise orders issued from his mouth in a steady, methodical stream.
Beyond that, Morin also arranged outer observation posts, overt and concealed sentries, one by one.
Although these soldiers of the Saxon Empire had never been exposed to such methods before, after Morin patiently explained his orders and requirements, they quickly understood his intent.
Platoon Sergeant Klaus and the corporals now executed Morin's orders without question, immediately leading their men to get to work.
Soon, a defensive position took shape on the village's left flank: centered around the captured Vickers machine gun, supported by multiple dispersed firepoints, and possessing a certain degree of depth and interlocking fields of fire.
At this point, Morin couldn't help but marvel that an eighty-man “oversized” infantry platoon was truly effective.
Whether establishing a defensive position now or attacking earlier, he had found everything went smoothly; the ample manpower allowed him to arrange tactics with almost extravagant flexibility.
After the arrangements were complete, Morin went with Sergeant Klaus to the Vickers gun position.
The latter had once had the good fortune to use this Britannian heavy machine gun during an exchange between the two armies, so he was able to teach the other soldiers—though only the simplest feeding, aiming, firing, and basic jam clearing.
As for maintenance and repair techniques, they weren't important at the moment.
After all, the captured heavy machine gun had very limited ammunition. Morin estimated that one proper defensive battle would empty its belts, like one of those limited-ammunition “reward weapons” from a video game.
After Sergeant Klaus's inspection, he determined that the gun had indeed not been damaged and could operate normally.
He then began instructing two hastily assigned gunners, striving to get them to learn machine-gun firing in the shortest time possible.
Meanwhile, Morin had the four corporals arrange rotating shifts for their squads before ordering most of the soldiers to rest while they could.
Before long, 1st Battalion's headquarters relocated to a small chapel in the center of the village that was still mostly intact.
Morin, brought along to the battalion command post by Captain Hauser, could see that Major Thomas's expression was extremely grim.
Although they had successfully taken the village, the price had been far too steep, making it difficult for the battalion commander to answer to brigade headquarters.
However, upon seeing Morin, he forced himself to rally and offered the outstanding young officer a few words of encouragement, promising to put him in for a commendation.
After a brief exchange, Major Thomas also told Captain Hauser and 3rd Company to make ready, because the capture of Saint Isidore Village was not the end but the beginning of this campaign; there would be even fiercer fighting ahead.
This news greatly increased the pressure on Morin. Saint Isidore, a village on the outskirts of Seville, had clearly been intended to delay the Saxon advance.
If a village like this already had machine-gun emplacements, then Seville's defenses would be no lower—and likely far higher.