The temporary battalion headquarters erupted into an uproar.
“What? A counterattack?”
“Weren’t they just beaten back? They’ve recovered that quickly?”
“How many reinforcements do they have?”
The officers began talking all at once, unease spreading rapidly among them.
“Quiet!”
Major Thomas growled, suppressing the commotion. He took a deep breath and continued:
“Brigade headquarters’ orders are very clear: hold Seville! Pin the enemy down here until our armored airships arrive to support us.”
“Hold Seville?”
The moment that order was spoken, the command post fell silent.
Many of the officers looked at one another, at a loss as to how they were supposed to hold it.
For these Saxon officers, who were accustomed to fighting in open terrain, conducting a defensive battle inside a city was, in truth, a rather unfamiliar “proposition.”
Or rather, for the armies of every nation in this era, battles were usually decided before they ever reached a city.
Moreover, the major battles and conflicts between the empires mostly took place in overseas colonies. Those places obviously did not have many large cities, let alone battles fought within them.
Major Thomas looked at the reactions of the officers under him, and a wave of helplessness rose in his heart.
Was he any different?
Whether in the army or at the military academy, what they had been taught was how to command troops in field operations. No one had ever taught them how to fight in a city.
And at this moment, due to the Saxon Army’s habit of “mission-type command,” brigade headquarters had not given the regiments or battalions any concrete tactical instructions. They had only said to hold Seville.
As for how to hold it?
That would depend on each unit’s own abilities. In any case, they had to complete the order.
Of course, there was one person in the battalion headquarters whose reaction was somewhat different from the others: Morin.
If everyone else was somewhat confused and at a loss after hearing this order, then after Morin heard it, his entire being nearly fell apart.
Wasn’t this fucking asking them to prepare for street fighting?
Line charges, bayonet combat, and now immediately after that, street fighting.
So he had managed to run into all of the most brutal forms of warfare in such a short span of time, had he?
And it was in this suffocating silence that someone, no one knew who, was the first to turn his gaze toward Morin, who was standing in the corner.
Then a second person. A third.
More and more people unconsciously looked toward this young second lieutenant who had created miracles on the battlefield.
Captain Hauser, several other company commanders, and in the end even the battalion commander, Major Thomas, all focused their gazes on Morin.
Those looks were filled with expectation, dependence, and even a trace of something they themselves had not noticed—an almost blind trust.
“No, wait…”
When Morin sensed everyone’s gazes, his vision nearly went black on the spot.
What the hell was this?
Why were they all looking at him?
Excuse me, was he some kind of tactical wishing machine? Shake him a little and an idea would pop out?
At this moment, Morin could clearly feel that after the series of battles they had just experienced, the officers of the 1st Battalion had already, subconsciously, developed a kind of “path dependency” on him.
The calmness and tactical ability he had displayed, surpassing everyone else’s, made him the first person they thought of whenever they encountered a difficult problem.
“Second Lieutenant Morin.”
In the end, it was Major Thomas who broke the silence.
“You have just graduated from the military academy, and what you learned there should be the latest military theories. Regarding… regarding this urban combat, do you have any thoughts?”
Everyone’s gaze was fixed tightly on Morin, expecting him to once again utter some astonishing tactic.
At this point, Morin knew he could no longer avoid it.
He also knew very well that this was not the time to hide his abilities. This concerned the lives of several hundred men in the entire 1st Battalion, including himself.
If he did not say something, the Saxon officers might very well lead their troops into the meat grinder in the most primitive way possible.
He took a deep breath and rapidly went over, in his mind, everything he had learned at the military academy before his transmigration, as well as all the knowledge of urban warfare he had gleaned from various military histories and battle examples.
Then he reorganized it in language the people of this world could understand.
“Major Thomas, gentlemen… Since everyone trusts me, I will briefly share a few humble personal opinions.”
Morin took a step forward, accepted the pencil handed to him by a battalion staff officer, and stood before the map.
“What we are about to face is a street battle.”
“A street battle?”
“That’s right. Fighting within the maze-like streets and alleys of a city… In that case, the first thing we must understand is that traditional combat thinking must be completely discarded.”
Morin’s first sentence immediately drew everyone’s attention.
“A city is not the wilderness. There are no open battle lines here, and there is no secure rear. Every building, every street, may become an independent battlefield.”
Morin picked up a pencil and drew a circle around the urban district on the map for which the 1st Battalion was responsible.
“Therefore, my first suggestion is to break the whole into parts.”
“Break the whole into parts?”
Major Thomas frowned. He understood the words, but not their specific meaning.
“Yes, break the whole into parts.”
Morin nodded, using the pencil to quickly draw several symbols on the map representing positions.
“We can no longer use companies as our basic units and rigidly construct a single defensive line. We must disperse the troops, spreading them by squads and platoons into every key building.”
He looked at the crowd and explained:
“Our goal is not to hold a single line, but to control an entire area.”
“Every building occupied by us is an independent strongpoint. These strongpoints support one another, forming a great net with interlocking fields of fire.”
“If the enemy charges blindly, they will only suffer heavy losses. If they want to advance, they will have to pull out our nails one by one. In this way, we can maximize the consumption of their forces and delay their attack.”
“Disperse the troops into buildings?”
Captain Hauser rubbed his chin, then voiced the doubt that had arisen in everyone else’s minds as well.
“Then what about command? Once the troops are all scattered, how do we issue orders? If one point is surrounded by the enemy, we might not even know.”
“That brings me to the second point: change the way we move.”
Morin drew a line between two adjacent buildings on the map.
“If we can avoid using the streets, then we absolutely must not use the streets! Streets are kill zones for both sides’ firepower! All personnel movements and supply transport must be carried out through the interiors of buildings.”
“I have observed that there are many rows of connected buildings along Seville’s streets, and they are all brick-and-tile structures. Even without explosives, they can be breached fairly quickly! So we will punch holes through the walls between adjacent buildings and connect the interiors of entire blocks as much as possible!”
“Punch holes in the walls?” a platoon leader cried out in surprise. “Can… can that really work?”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Morin asked in return. “We have entrenching shovels, pickaxes, and the supply train has transported some explosives!”
The officers looked at one another. The ideas Morin had proposed had completely overturned their understanding. This was no longer fighting a battle; this was practically demolishing houses.
But when they thought about it carefully, they felt that what Morin said made a great deal of sense.
The most dangerous places in a city were the open streets. If they could avoid the streets and move freely through the interiors of buildings, then their safety and mobility would undoubtedly increase greatly.
However, another officer raised a new concern.
“Second Lieutenant Morin, what if the enemy breaks into one of the buildings? Wouldn’t they also be able to move into the other buildings?”
Hearing his question, Morin asked in return:
“Are the things in our soldiers’ hands fire pokers? Do you mean to say they won’t open fire after the enemy enters the building?”
“Wouldn’t that mean fighting indoors?”
“What is the problem with that? The enemy’s forces will also be dispersed as a result, and they will be tied down inside the buildings.”
Morin paused, then looked at every officer around him with an extremely solemn expression.
“Gentlemen, I hope you can temporarily forget all your past experience. Street fighting is an exceedingly brutal form of combat. There will not be a single safe place in the entire city!”
“If we want to obtain final victory, it can only be forged with blood and willpower!”