As the main force secured its foothold in the village, the battalion’s baggage convoy also carefully drove into concealed positions on the outskirts.
The companies’ Hf.11 field kitchen wagons were soon sending up cooking smoke.
From yesterday until now, Morin had only gnawed on a few pieces of dry bread, and he was already ravenous.
So after parting with Captain Hauser, he followed the first batch of soldiers rotating back for a meal like a starving wolf, impatiently arriving in front of 3rd Company’s kitchen wagon.
The staple food of the Saxon Imperial Army was black bread, eaten with thick soup or stew, with canned meat available every so often.
Thus, on the folding tables beside the field kitchen wagon, there were piles of army-issued black bread known as “Kommissbrot,” and the fresh aroma wafting from them told Morin that these were probably newly baked.
Morin was not surprised by this, because he had already learned that the 16th Infantry Brigade was equipped with a “Field Bakery Company” normally only found in a division-level unit. Most of these loaves had likely been baked by them and delivered to the various companies’ field kitchens.
Yes, the “Field Bakery Company,” with over a hundred bakers, normally had one main job: supplying black bread for the entire division.
Among those hundred-plus bakers were more than a dozen technical NCOs—before entering the army, they had already been professional bakers with years in the trade.
So supplying bread for a single infantry brigade was, for a Field Bakery Company capable of producing over twenty thousand loaves a day, so easy it was almost laughable.
Morin looked at the bread and swallowed, then saw a plump cook beside the kitchen wagon seemingly slicing something sausage-like into a pot.
“Nice, there’s sausage too.”
Morin’s eyes lit up. He knew that in “Second Reich”—no, in the Saxon Army’s rations, there were several dishes made with various kinds of sausage, and some of them actually tasted quite good!
“Second Lieutenant, I could have brought food over to you. You didn’t need to come in person.”
The orderly following beside Morin could not help speaking up when he saw his platoon leader looking like a starving ghost.
“No, no, no. I want to eat as soon as possible!”
Morin shook his head, then took his mess tin from the orderly. Without cutting in line, he joined the queue waiting to receive food, full of anticipation.
However, when he saw the cook ladle a spoonful of slightly viscous grayish-white thick soup from a large pot and pair it with two pieces of black bread that could serve as ballistic plates, Morin completely despaired of this world’s field rations.
And when he saw the wrapper of the “sausage” thrown on the ground, he immediately understood.
“Erbswurst, huh. Never mind, then.”
Not all “sausages” were real sausages. Or rather, the Saxons called most foods packaged in long strips “sausages.”
The famous “Erbswurst,” renowned in both worlds, was one of them.
This mixture made from bacon, onions, peas, and dehydrated vegetables had nothing to do with sausage as Morin understood it.
The proper way to eat it was to cut it into thick slices, then dissolve it in hot water to make a bowl of thick soup.
Incidentally, in the world before Morin crossed over, the inventor of “Erbswurst” eventually sold the patent to a company called Knorr.
And that company’s most famous product was bouillon stock cubes.
However, to someone starving, the taste of food was not important.
At the very least, hot soup could bring a trace of comfort.
Besides, before crossing over, Morin had actually wanted to try the taste of “Erbswurst,” but unfortunately, Knorr had discontinued this century-old product in 2018.
So this could be considered making up for that regret after crossing through time and space.
After receiving the thick soup and bread, Morin and the orderly sat down on the ground with their backs against a tree.
Then, imitating the other soldiers, he forcefully broke the hard black bread into small pieces and soaked them in the soup. Once the bread had absorbed the broth and softened, he wolfed it down.
Saxon-style bread soup—approved!
After a hot meal went into his stomach, Morin’s hunger was finally dispelled.
Once the pleasant lunchtime ended, Morin and the orderly returned to 3rd Platoon’s position.
After the soldiers in the platoon had all taken turns eating one after another, Morin called over Sergeant Klaus, four corporals, and eight squad leaders.
When these men gathered around him, all of them had some confusion on their faces, thinking some new combat mission was about to be issued.
In the end, Morin cleared his throat and told everyone that since there was no emergency at the moment, they might as well take the time to hold a combat review meeting.
As soon as he said this, the veterans and NCOs present were all stunned and looked at one another, unable to understand what he meant for a moment.
In their experience, combat meant obeying orders, winning or losing, and then waiting for the next order. They had never heard of sitting down for a meeting after a battle was over.
Morin was not at all surprised by their reaction. Nor did he offer much explanation. He went straight to the point and asked everyone whether they had any thoughts about that morning’s battle, or whether they felt anything could have been done better.
Now everyone was even more bewildered, and the atmosphere became somewhat restrained.
They were all experiencing this kind of situation for the first time, and Morin was also a newly appointed commander, so no one dared to speak first.
In the end, it was a young squad leader who had followed Morin at the very front during the assault on the farmhouse who hesitantly spoke up.
“Second Lieutenant… I… I think the physical exertion was much greater than I expected.”
The young squad leader scratched his head, a little embarrassed.
“Especially during the part where we flanked through the riverbed. We sprinted several hundred meters in a row over complicated terrain, and by the time we reached the farmhouse wall, several of the brothers under me were already panting.”
Morin nodded approvingly.
“You said it very well. The foundation of all tactics is physical fitness.”
Morin was quite gratified that someone had responded, and that the issue raised was meaningful.
“Judging from the current training syllabus and rations, physical fitness is indeed a weak point… I’ll remember this. When assigning missions in the future, I’ll try to take everyone’s physical expenditure into account as well.”
With the first person daring to try, the others were no longer so constrained, and began discussing things one after another.
“Second Lieutenant, having us disperse and advance by squad really can help avoid enemy attacks and makes it harder for us to be wiped out all at once! But on the battlefield, once the gunfire and cannon fire start, when the formation spreads out, it becomes difficult to manage. Sometimes we can’t even hear orders clearly.”
A corporal then brought up his own confusion.
Another squad leader chimed in as well. “That’s right. Especially when we’re separated from the main force and can’t see you, sir, we feel a bit unsure, not knowing what to do next.”
Morin summed up all these problems into one point—too little relevant training.
“These are all new tactics. It’s normal that everyone isn’t used to them. Once we do it a few more times and build some mutual understanding, things will improve a lot.”
He explained patiently, while inwardly sighing that the Saxon Empire’s system of “mission-type command” suited him perfectly.
Superiors only needed to issue mission objectives. As for what methods subordinate units used to complete them, as long as they did not violate military law, basically no one would interfere.
The famous “stormtrooper” tactics of his previous life had been developed by front-line officers against precisely this kind of background.
This model gave Morin an enormous degree of command freedom, and it was also the fundamental reason Captain Hauser had ultimately agreed that morning to let him lead a platoon in independent action.
The combat review meeting lasted almost half an hour, and the atmosphere grew increasingly lively.
At the end, Morin specifically reminded the eight squad leaders to also find time to chat with the soldiers in their own squads after returning, and listen to any thoughts or difficulties they might have.
After everyone dispersed, Platoon Sergeant Klaus stayed behind.
This experienced veteran looked at Morin, his face filled with sincere admiration.
“Second Lieutenant, today has really opened my eyes.” Klaus spoke earnestly. “From last night until now, following you has taught me far too many things I had never come into contact with before!”
“Sergeant Klaus, you flatter me. I’m only sharing some of my own experience in the hope of reducing casualties in battle.”
Being able to draw closer to this platoon sergeant, who had extremely high prestige within the platoon, was also a good thing for Morin. It meant that his control over this unit had advanced another step.
As the two were chatting idly, a messenger from battalion headquarters came trotting over.
“Second Lieutenant Morin! Major Thomas asks you to come over!”