Chapter 573: My Flank Has Been Blown Wide Open!

Denikin's hand slammed heavily onto the operational map. After the impact, he turned and strode quickly toward the comms officer.

"Telegram Wrangel again!"

The comms officer immediately opened his folder and readied his pen.

"Tell him the Southern Army's left flank has been assaulted by Saxon armored forces! The three infantry regiments covering the flank have lost all contact! The enemy is advancing rapidly!"

"The First Reserve Army must maneuver immediately! If they don't find a way to support us soon, the left flank will be blown wide open!"

Just as the comms officer finished writing, Denikin added another sentence.

"Tell Wrangel, even if he can't get in front of the enemy, he must tie them down from the flank! We cannot allow them to continue advancing freely!"

"Yes, General!"

The comms officer didn't dare dawdle. After recording the message, he practically jogged out of the command room.

Pyotr Nikolayevich Wrangel was no ordinary junior officer.

Among the generals of the South Rus Volunteer Army, his seniority, prestige, and the troop strength under his command were second only to Denikin's. He was also one of Denikin's most trusted commanders, effectively the second-in-command of this armed force.

Although the First Reserve Army existed as the strategic reserve for the entire campaign, Denikin couldn't afford to worry about reserves at this moment.

At any other time, Denikin would have left some leeway when issuing orders to him.

But right now, with three regiments losing contact in a short timeframe under enemy attack, and the enemy forces less than fourteen kilometers from the main army's flank, he had no room for such considerations.

Chief of Staff Semyon picked up a pencil and drew an 'X' over the positions of the three lost regiments one by one.

The three 'X's linked together, glaringly exposing a massive void on the Southern Army's flank.

"General, we can send the aviation squadron to reconnoiter the left flank."

Semyon pointed to the southern section of the map.

"The Saxon armored airship and fighter planes are all concentrated on the Rzhyshchiv front, so their aerial presence in this direction should be weak. As long as our planes avoid the riverbank, they can at least confirm the enemy's numbers and route of advance."

Denikin had been too flustered to consider this earlier, but his Chief of Staff's reminder quickly brought him to his senses.

"How many planes are ready to fly immediately?"

Semyon paused before replying, "Currently, only three are on standby..."

Denikin sucked in a breath. Three reconnaissance planes. This was the absolute last of his aerial assets.

He had lost the previous battle for air superiority too disastrously; he didn't want to recall those events.

"Launch one immediately! Prioritize scouting the area between the 17th Regiment and the Army's left flank! Once the enemy is spotted, maintain continuous tracking! Have another plane relieve it after twenty minutes!"

A comms officer hurried out to relay the order. Denikin returned to the map, forcing himself to look away from the three lost regiments.

The simplest option right now was to retreat.

But the moment the thought surfaced, he dismissed it entirely.

The Rzhyshchiv front was already engaged in combat. Over eighty thousand men of the Southern Army were deployed along the river, with temporarily reassigned units mixed in among the divisions.

Artillery was transporting ammunition to the front lines, follow-up forces were still en route, and supply wagons and vehicles clogged the dirt roads.

Organizing a retreat of over a hundred thousand men under these conditions would be impossible; the officers simply wouldn't have time to reorder the march sequence.

The moment one division fell into chaos, panic would spread rapidly.

Worse still, the enemy's armored forces were on their flank, and two legs clearly couldn't outrun wheels.

If those armored vehicles weren't intercepted, they would quickly cut onto the roads, attacking the retreating infantry and supply trains.

Once the marching columns were struck, the Southern Army would cease to be an organized fighting force; they would become a routed mob jammed on the roads.

Perhaps the Center Army, which had absorbed the elite of the old Imperial Army, could manage an orderly retreat. But the Southern Army... Denikin and Chief of Staff Semyon clearly lacked that level of confidence in their troops' organization.

The only experience Denikin could apply right now came from tactics dealing with cavalry flank attacks dating back to the era of line infantry.

When cavalry appeared on the flank, turning and running only exposed your back to the enemy.

Standing your ground, contracting your formation, and organizing multiple mutually supporting defensive positions offered a chance to hold out.

The Saxon armored vehicles weren't cavalry, but perhaps the concept still applied...

"We cannot retreat in a panic..."

Denikin finally made his decision. Pressing his hands on the map, he stated, "The main force on the front will continue executing the original plan. The Rebels have already begun their crossing. We must launch our counterattack while their forces are still straddling the river."

Chief of Staff Semyon looked up.

"And the left flank?"

"Delay."

Denikin gave a single-word answer, then quickly elaborated.

"The left flank units are not tasked with annihilating the Saxons, nor are they required to drive them back... Establish multiple defensive lines for a fighting retreat. Occupy villages and roads to force them to stop and fight. For every hour they delay the enemy, Wrangel's Reserve Army draws closer."

The officers in the command room quickly recorded the orders.

Denikin's finger traced the roads on the map, finally stopping on a unit currently marching toward the Rzhyshchiv front.

The 5th Infantry Division.

This division originally belonged to the Southern Army's left flank. Two days ago, they received orders to leave one regiment behind for defense, while the rest of the division reinforced the frontal crossing sector.

Due to road congestion and the burden of supply trains, the 5th Infantry Division had not yet fully reached its designated position.

But it was only a little over ten kilometers from the gap on the left flank—the only cohesive unit currently capable of redeploying there in time.

"Order the 5th Infantry Division to halt their advance toward Rzhyshchiv immediately. Reverse their march order—the rear becomes the vanguard—and return to the left flank to establish a temporary defensive line."

"And send the Army's direct reserve unit over there as well!"

Denikin paused, then continued, "The frontal reserves cannot be moved... The Rebels are crossing. Once their crossing progress exceeds halfway, the front must launch its counterattack."

"Every available unit that can be diverted to the left flank goes to the 5th Infantry Division. Tell them they must hold out for four hours! That will be enough time for Wrangel's vanguard to arrive!"

An operations staff officer, listening to Denikin, pulled up the 5th Infantry Division's organizational data.

"General, the 5th Infantry Division previously detached an infantry regiment to hold the defensive line... They have already lost contact. Their current available combat strength may be less than seven thousand men."

"Then gather all the stragglers and attach them to the division!"

Denikin raised his voice.

"Logistics, guards, engineers—anyone who can hold a rifle goes to the defensive line! This is the Army's flank, not the personal defense sector of a single division!"

These words quickly translated into a flurry of orders transmitted from the command post to the left flank. Telephone operators and radio stations worked simultaneously, the cacophony of communication never ceasing.

The urgent telegram to the First Reserve Army was sent. Sometime later, the comms officer returned with the receipt.

"General Wrangel has received the orders. The vanguard of the First Reserve Army has finished assembling. He states they will arrive as quickly as possible."

"'As quickly as possible' is not enough."

Denikin stared intently at the map.

"Send another message. The Saxons are advancing on the Army's main force. He must race against time."

The comms officer immediately began recording the order and drafting the telegram, while Denikin had already moved on to the next problem.

He looked up at his Chief of Staff.

"Semyon, do you remember... what the 'Linebreaker' pilots reported previously?"

Semyon blinked twice, quickly recalling the information.

"You mean... that the cannons on the Saxon armored vehicles were unable to penetrate the 'Linebreakers' frontal armor?"

"Exactly!"

Denikin's hand slowly clenched into a fist on the desk.

"Those enemy armored vehicles cannot pierce our 'Linebreakers'! Last time, it was only after they deployed their Armored Knights that they inflicted effective casualties on us!"

He paused, his speaking pace accelerating.

"And this flanking enemy force traveled over a hundred kilometers to get behind us... They couldn't possibly have brought Armored Knights with them! Those six-meter-tall iron behemoths simply cannot march that distance, not to mention the river crossing operation!"

Chief of Staff Semyon's expression changed, then he slowly nodded.

"We currently have no intelligence indicating Saxon Armored Knights possess independent river crossing capabilities; they still rely on armored airships for long-distance transport! So, your implication is... they likely currently lack the means to counter the 'Linebreakers'."

"Precisely! The artillery equipped on Saxon armored units cannot penetrate the 'Linebreaker's' front, at least based on previous engagements."

Denikin spoke with a hint of excitement. Then, as if realizing something, he asked his Chief of Staff, "Is it possible they brought heavier artillery?"

Semyon: "Based on the final telegram from the 17th Regiment, the attackers consisted primarily of armored vehicles and infantry; there was no mention of fierce artillery bombardment... Furthermore, heavy artillery, much like Armored Knights, cannot keep up with this pace of advance."

Hearing this, Denikin turned his attention back to Rzhyshchiv on the map. The unit marker for the L15 armored airship currently sat directly over the Dnieper River.

According to frontline reports, the airship was currently suppressing White Army positions with heavy artillery, showing absolutely no signs of moving south.

If the Saxon Armored Knights were also aboard the airship, then the flanking force lacked these heavy combat units.

Denikin: "It seems that in this dire situation, we finally see a glimmer of hope... This force on our left flank is primarily composed of armored vehicles..."

"Highly likely."

Chief of Staff Semyon nodded.

"They can quickly rout an infantry regiment, but they won't necessarily be able to handle heavy Armored Knights."

The anger on Denikin's face finally subsided slightly. While this assessment didn't solve all their problems, it provided a reliable anchor for the left flank defense.

"When the 5th Infantry Division establishes its defensive line, attach a squad of 'Linebreakers' to them. Position the Armored Knights on the main thoroughfares, and deploy the infantry and machine gun nests around them."

Another operations staff officer nearby immediately interjected, "General, the nearest 'Linebreaker' squad is near the Army reserve, roughly five kilometers from the left flank."

"Then have them walk there themselves!"

"But the mechanical lifespan of the Armored Knights—"

"If the left flank falls, what good is the Armored Knights' mechanical lifespan? Waiting to be captured by the enemy?!"

Denikin cut him off sharply.

"Order them to depart immediately. Do not disassemble the units, and do not wait for the heavy transport tractors."

The orders were quickly dispatched to the Paladin Order's temporary camp.

Three "Linebreaker" Armored Knights were in a state of semi-maintenance. The technicians had just finished replacing two components in the right leg transmission of one unit.

Upon receiving the order, the technicians had to halt their inspections and reseal the armor access panels.

The sequential alchemical power plants roared to life one by one, filling the camp with the chaotic cacophony of heavy machinery.

The pilots climbed into the cockpits, and the armored hatches slowly lowered from the outside. A technician standing on the ground shouted a warning to one of the pilots.

"The full-load testing on the right leg transmission isn't complete! Do not accelerate continuously during the march!"

A muffled response came from within the cockpit.

"Understood! I'll try to baby it!"

The ground crew quickly cleared the area.

The three heavy Armored Knights, over six meters tall, marched out of the camp directly onto the dirt road leading to the left flank, leaving their tracked transport tractors and transport frames behind.

This method of marching would rapidly consume the lifespan of their joints, transmission systems, and foot structures. But everyone knew that right now, every minute was worth more than spare parts.

Inside the command post, Denikin continued to adjust deployments.

The 5th Infantry Division was tasked with frontal delaying actions. The Army's direct reserves would fill the gaps between positions. The three "Linebreakers" would be concentrated at the road intersection.

He did not disperse the Armored Knights.

Once the three heavy units were separated, the Saxons were highly likely to pick them off one by one using bizarre tactics. Keeping them together offered mutual support and could secure a critical chokepoint, forcing the enemy to alter their route.

"The 5th Infantry Division is forbidden from initiating attacks!"

Denikin emphasized again.

"They only need to hold. If a position is lost, fall back to the next village. If the village falls, occupy the woods behind it. Dig trenches across the roads, prepare bridges for demolition. All heavy weapons must prioritize locking down avenues of vehicular approach."

The staff officers detailed the orders and dispatched them sequentially. The Southern Army's left flank units began to redeploy.

The 5th Infantry Division, having marched north for most of the day, suddenly received orders to turn around. The two battalions at the rear of the column pivoted first.

Supply wagons, infantry columns, and artillery limbers jammed the narrow dirt road, creating temporary chaos.

Several mounted officers galloped back and forth along the road, forcing the supply wagons blocking the intersections into the fields.

The division commander even ordered soldiers to simply unload less critical supplies and push the empty wagons off the road.

Meanwhile, at the White Army aviation squadron's temporary airfield, the final three recon planes still capable of flight completed their pre-flight preparations.

The pilots hopped into the cockpits. Ground crews hand-propped the propellers. The obsolete aviation engines coughed and sputtered before finally settling into a steady hum.

One of them taxied across a vegetable patch, taking off first and heading south.

Denikin then ordered the comms section to contact the Center Army and Southwestern Front Headquarters.

The Rebels launching a massive counterattack at Rzhyshchiv, coupled with Saxon armored forces executing a long-distance flanking maneuver from the south—the scale of this offensive far exceeded their prior estimates.

"Tell the Center Army that the Rebels likely withdrew their main forces from the Kyiv sector."

Denikin provided his assessment.

"Request they immediately intensify reconnaissance to confirm troop strength variations around Kyiv."

After the final telegram was sent, new reports arrived from the frontal battlefield... The Rebel bridgehead was still expanding, and the first pontoon bridge was nearing completion.

The White Army frontline divisions were awaiting orders to counterattack.

Denikin checked the time; it was now 9:40 AM.

"The left flank will delay the Saxons. The front continues to wait... Wait until the second wave of Rebel troops is on the bridge, then launch a full-line counterattack!"

High above the Dnieper River, the L15 armored airship maintained its combat posture.

The turrets beneath the hull continuously adjusted their firing angles. Every time the 150mm single-mount guns fired, the entire airship swayed slightly.

After the gun crews ejected the spent casings and reloaded, the rangefinders corrected their parameters based on ground observations. The next shells fell with even greater precision onto the White Army positions on the east bank.

Inside the airship's comms compartment, the radios hadn't been switched off since dawn.

Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia ordered the comms team to continuously monitor the frequencies of both the Instruction Brigade and the Rzhyshchiv Battlegroup. Any telegram from either party was to be reported immediately.

Shortly after 9:00 AM, an encrypted telegram from the Instruction Brigade arrived on the bridge.

The message was brief, simply stating that the Instruction Brigade had breached the Southern Army's left flank screening forces, completing the first phase objectives, and was continuing its advance toward the enemy's rear flank.

Andreasia read it and handed it to his Executive Officer.

"Expected nothing less of Major General Morin... They're even ahead of schedule."

The XO read it over.

"Three White Army regiments have lost combat capability. Major General Morin's forces don't require support for the time being."

"Precisely because they are advancing so quickly, we need to accelerate things on our end as well."

Andreasia stepped to the observation window. Below, massive amounts of crossing equipment were being deployed on the river to construct new pontoon bridges. The National Army's first wave had established a bridgehead on the east bank, and follow-up infantry were crossing via the light pontoon bridge.

Yet, White Army resistance remained light. Aside from sporadic artillery and long-range machine-gun fire, they hadn't committed cohesive units to a counterattack.

This silence was abnormal...

And Morin had specifically warned about this during the pre-battle wargaming.

If the White Army proactively retreated or offered only limited resistance during the initial stages of the crossing, it meant they were waiting for a better opportunity to counterattack.

They would highly likely let a portion of the troops cross, wait until the pontoon bridges and the river surface were packed with personnel, and then commit their main force to assault the bridgehead.

Andreasia handed temporary command of the bridge over to his XO, then walked out, heading down the narrow corridor toward the cargo bay. Normally, communication with the Teutonic Order via speaking tube was sufficient, but today was somewhat special.

After all, the Grand Master of the Teutonic Order—the renowned "Golden Lion"—was aboard. Andreasia decided it was best to deliver the message personally.

The metal deck beneath his feet vibrated slightly—the aftershocks of the 150mm heavy guns completing another salvo.

The lights in the cargo bay were still their normal color, not yet shifted to the red "prepare to drop" hue. A full fifteen Armored Knights were secured to the newly installed specialized racks. The pilots were conducting final checks beside their respective machines.

Ludwig was the first to notice Andreasia's arrival, hopping down from the cockpit of a Siegfried Mark I.

"Lieutenant Colonel, any news from the Instruction Brigade?"

Andreasia nodded. "Major General Morin is making excellent progress. The obstacles on the left flank have been cleared... However, we need Armored Knight support on the front now. We fear the enemy will launch a counterattack while the bulk of our forces are still crossing the river."

Ludwig clenched his fist and nodded. "Understood. I'll take my men down immediately. Once we've secured the front, I'll—"

"Colonel Ludwig." (A/N: Forgot to mention earlier, Ludwig also got promoted.)

A steady female voice echoed from deep within the cargo bay. Leonia stepped out from behind a noticeably broader Armored Knight, her long blonde hair striking even in the dim light.

Ludwig turned toward her and snapped to attention.

"Grand Master..."

"This time, I will command the frontal support mission." Leonia spoke evenly while tightening the cuffs of her pilot suit.

Ludwig was stunned. "Wait, Grand Master, according to the original plan, my squadron was to coordinate with General Morin's Instruction Brigade..."

"Correct, but the plan has changed."

Leonia raised a hand to cut him off. "I will take the 'Valkyries' to coordinate with Major General Morin... You take the remaining Armored Knights to support the frontal crossing forces."

"But..."

"Colonel Ludwig."

Leonia stepped up to him. Standing more than half a head taller, she forced the young Knight to tilt his head up slightly.

"The Two-Seater Armored Knight, the 'Valkyrie Mark I,' is a new asset, entering practical combat for the first time... As Grand Master, it is my duty to personally lead the deployment and complete the testing." Leonia's reasoning was sound, even delivered with a hint of official bureaucratic tone.

But Ludwig couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't her only reason.

"Grand Master... Are you by any chance trying to... with General Morin..."

Leonia tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"Yes, exactly~ I've been very much looking forward to fighting alongside the Major General. Is there a problem?"

Ludwig fell silent for two seconds before sighing heavily with regret. She was his ultimate boss; he couldn't exactly argue.

"Then at least allocate three more 'Siegfrieds' to my command."

"Already done." Leonia pointed to the row of mechs on the left side of the cargo bay. "Your squadron now consists of nine machines—the complement of a standard, full-strength squadron."

Ludwig scratched the back of his head and finally nodded. Leonia smiled and patted his shoulder, her grip decidedly firm.

"You should be satisfied with this, right? You and Major General Morin have worked together for so long; it's time for a change of pace."

Before Ludwig could retort, Leonia had already turned and walked toward her Two-Seater Armored Knight, her pilot suit highlighting her sharp, athletic lines.

Deep in the cargo bay stood the Two-Seater Armored Knight. It was visibly bulkier than a standard Siegfried. The weapon bays on its shoulders were prominent: one 77mm cannon and one MG08 heavy machine gun on each side. The ammunition magazine formed a pronounced bulge on its back.

Fred, the engineer responsible for the Two-Seaters... or rather, the "Valkyrie Mark I"s... had completed all checks. Hearing footsteps, he turned around.

"Grand Master, the machine is nominal. Ammunition fully loaded..."

"Excellent."

Leonia looked up at the somewhat menacing machine before her. Its blurry silhouette in the dim light stirred a sudden flutter in her chest for the first time.

A flutter that made her desperate to pilot this machine into battle immediately...

She glanced at the empty weapon officer's seat in the rear, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Major General Morin, I trust you've been waiting a long time for this day as well?"

...

Roughly 10 kilometers from the left flank of the White Army's Southern Army. The Instruction Brigade convoy had finished reorganizing and was advancing north along a heavily rutted dirt road.

The annihilation of three infantry regiments didn't bring Morin much relief; in his view, it was merely expected.

Using military command arts incorporating the best tactics of later eras, backed by an armored assault force bordering on early WWII standards, to attack WWI-level enemies... it was pure bullying.

For Morin, this operation was a risky gambit. Aside from the massive troop disparity between the two sides, the primary test was the Instruction Brigade's capacity for sustained combat.

To put it bluntly—the supply issue.

No matter how capable Morin was, he couldn't conjure the radiant crystal fuel required to power an entire armored force out of thin air...

Unlike rations and ammunition, which could occasionally be scavenged from overrun enemy camps, the White Army possessed very few vehicles and naturally didn't stockpile much fuel.

And from their departure on the west bank until now, the Instruction Brigade's total march distance exceeded 130 kilometers.

One hundred and thirty kilometers.

For any military unit in this era, this was an unfathomable distance to cover in such a short time.

For conventional infantry, 130 kilometers meant at least four days of forced marching, and that didn't even factor in crossing a river.

The Instruction Brigade had completed the river crossing and the flank breakthrough in less than two days. If they hadn't been waiting for the main frontal force to launch its attack, they would have started their offensive much earlier.

But the price of this speed was rapidly emptying fuel tanks.

The logistical supply train responsible for secondary resupply couldn't possibly follow them on such a massive detour. Although they received one last refuel before crossing the river, the Instruction Brigade had been burning through its own reserves ever since.

This meant the Instruction Brigade had to link up with the frontal assault forces to secure fuel resupply.

Furthermore, numerous mechanical failures had occurred along the way, depleting their stock of critical spare parts. These, too, could only be replenished upon linking up with the main force.

He tossed the report aside, popping his head out of the command vehicle's roof hatch to look ahead.

The horizon ahead of the convoy remained flat, occasionally dotted by patches of scrub forest beneath the pale sky.

On the system map, the situation on the frontal battlefield was also perfectly clear.

Blue friendly markers were extending from the west bank to the east. The pontoon bridge locations were densely packed with units. The White Army's red markers had formed a thick defensive line roughly two to three kilometers from the riverbank, clearly poised to strike.

But what surprised Morin was something else.

At the frontal landing zone, Armored Knight markers had suddenly appeared, seemingly having just completed an airdrop. But checking the commander info on the unit tags...

"...Why did Ludwig drop there?"

Morin frowned slightly. According to the plan he had coordinated with Lieutenant Colonel Andreasia, Ludwig's squadron was supposed to support the Instruction Brigade's flanking assault.

Why were they deployed to the front early?

Perhaps Andreasia had made an adjustment based on the battlefield situation, or perhaps there had been a change within the Order...

As Morin was digesting this information, his magitech comms terminal chimed. Upon answering, a steady voice came through.

"General, this is the recon detachment. We've spotted something ahead."

"Report."

"We've advanced approximately three kilometers ahead of the main force and discovered enemy traces. Visual confirmation indicates at least a regiment-sized unit is constructing fortifications. Massive follow-up forces are arriving via the northern road... Captain Karl is leading a team on a close-range recon to ascertain their exact composition and deployment."

Captain Karl was the other Thunder Warrior accompanying the recon detachment. Morin had assigned two Thunder Warriors here to handle unexpected situations.

"Tell Karl to prioritize safety. Do not expose yourselves. Report back immediately once the situation is confirmed."

After ending the call with the recon detachment, Morin turned to the system map. The fog of war ahead of the recon detachment was slowly rolling back; as their close-range recon advanced, the fog receded accordingly.

Soon, a division-level unit tag materialized from the fog: The 5th Infantry Division of the White Army's Southern Army.

Morin remained silent for a few seconds before turning to the three men inside the vehicle and relaying the recon detachment's report.

Manstein and Rundstedt exchanged a look, not entirely surprised, as this scenario was factored into their pre-battle contingencies. "Based on the enemy's deployment, the only force capable of returning this quickly would be the infantry division originally stationed on the left flank..."

Manstein rapidly retrieved the information from his memory of intercepted White Army telegrams.

"According to those intercepted telegrams, this division was likely detached to reinforce the front... which means they are currently not at full strength."

"They turned around." Morin sat back down. "The enemy's reaction speed is commendable."

The Southern Army Headquarters had clearly sensed impending danger. They were shoving every available unit toward the left flank, desperately trying to plug the gaping hole.

"General," Manstein hesitated before speaking. "The troops have been continuously maneuvering and fighting for nearly four hours since this morning... Shouldn't we take a brief rest?"

Morin looked at him, then shook his head.

"We have no time for rest right now. Even if we do rest, it can only be considered after we link up with the main force on the front..."

"The enemy forces redeployed to block us likely aren't fully in position yet. Their vanguard is just starting to dig in, and their follow-up forces are still en route."

Morin's tone grew complex as he continued, "If we stop to rest now, even for twenty minutes, the situation could change drastically by the time we move again. At that point, we wouldn't be facing a hastily deployed division."

Rundstedt exhaled heavily and added, "So... we hit them before they're ready."

"Correct." Morin's tone wasn't impassioned, but rather calm. "That is the core of mobile warfare... never give the enemy a chance to breathe or redeploy. If he runs, you must run faster!"

While Morin treated everyone in the Instruction Brigade as his brothers-in-arms, he also knew that a commander couldn't afford to be soft.

He told Manstein and the others: Why were his training standards for the Instruction Brigade, particularly regarding physical fitness and endurance, so obscenely high?

It was because he knew the Instruction Brigade would inevitably face battles exactly like this one.

"The physical reserves of the Instruction Brigade soldiers vastly exceed any other army of this era... Several hours of continuous maneuvering followed by a sharp engagement might be the absolute limit for other units, but for the Instruction Brigade... it's not even close."

"This is what I always say: you can have the best equipment and tactics in the world, but if your physical endurance can't keep up and you can't sustain the operational intensity, it's all useless..."

Rundstedt and Manstein didn't press the issue.

The latter, in particular, trusted Morin's judgment. This man never risked his soldiers' lives in meaningless gambles.

If he said they could fight, they could fight.

It was during this process that Morin finally understood why the forces that pioneered blitzkrieg in his previous life resorted to mass consumption of combat stimulants.

Because human endurance has limits... and that ceiling is far lower than machines. If you don't want human physical limitations to drag down operations, you have to employ extreme measures.

But Morin didn't want to do that. The side effects across the board were far too severe. He didn't want his entire command turning into junkies after a single campaign.

"However, having said that..."

Morin's tone suddenly shifted, his right hand unconsciously stroking a long, cloth-wrapped object he kept in the command vehicle.

"This division ahead of us will indeed be tough to crack. They're not like those three understrength infantry regiments we steamrolled. Even if they left units behind on the flank, it's still a division-sized element..."

"And they know we're coming! Not to mention more reinforcements will be pouring toward this sector, trying to plug the breach!"

Rundstedt frowned, pondering the implications of this statement, but Manstein's expression was already changing.

Before Manstein could speak, Rundstedt asked, "General, what's our next move? A flanking maneuver or a frontal breakthrough?"

"We'll decide once the recon detachment's close-range report comes in." Morin looked back at the system map. "But no matter how we fight, you can rest assured about one thing."

He paused, a smile spreading across his face. "This tough bone? I'll be gnawing on it alongside everyone else."

He spoke the words casually, but even Rundstedt finally realized what he meant.

He exchanged a look with Manstein. From the moment they arrived on the Eastern Front until now, Morin had commanded every Instruction Brigade battle from the comfort of his command vehicle.

The Thunder Warriors and Armored Knights charged enemy lines, the Armored Instruction Regiment provided overwhelming fire support, the Infantry Instruction Regiment mopped up the battlefield...

Everyone participated in the combat. Every unit was deployed.

Only one person hadn't moved.

And that person happened to be the absolute pinnacle of combat power within the entire Instruction Brigade.