Chapter 113 - The Empty Seat (2)
Ernest stayed back instead of going forward, hiding in a relatively safe spot as he constantly inspected the battle situation.
He paid closest attention to two things.
One was Gustav, who, while not on a very tall hill, was still occupying higher ground.
The other was the trench on the right side of their position, which looked dangerously close to being breached at any moment.
"Company Commander! Company Commander!"
While observing the situation, Ernest shouted at the top of his lungs for Yurgen.
But Yurgen was nowhere to be seen.
Just as Ernest was about to send a platoon courier to look for him, another company commander, crouched low and dodging bullets, came running over.
It was the captain who'd punched Ernest and had helped remove the corpses from the trench earlier.
"What is it!"
"The right flank is about to give way!"
Ernest, flustered and unable to understand why this captain—whom he'd only met for the first time today—had come running to him, slipped back into the speech patterns of his cadet days for a moment.
Of course, those "cadet days" were only about a month ago.
"We don't have enough soldiers left to hold that area!"
The captain, surprisingly considerate, explained the situation to Ernest.
"Isn't there any additional support coming?"
"How would I know that!"
He had a point.
There was no way this captain, who'd spent the entire night fighting in these trenches, would have any idea about reinforcements.
He, too, was only fighting here because he had received a single order to hold the front line.
"If we don't get support, it's going to break!"
"Damn it! I know that too!"
It was obvious that the right-side trench line had reached its limit.
The constant hail of bullets was slowly but steadily taking its toll.
The soldiers inside the trench had lost their fighting spirit—rather than thinking of firing back at the enemy, they just crouched and trembled in fear.
"Huff! Huff!"
Ernest quickly stuck his head out and scanned his surroundings.
His dark eyes darted restlessly, almost shaking with anxiety.
Then he ducked back down and closed his eyes.
The rainstorm and the pale Balt Light made his vision spin.
It was nearly impossible to make out any shapes.
So, keeping his eyes shut, Ernest tried to piece together the situation from the fleeting images he'd imprinted in his mind.
Just as Robert had criticized him for the way he used to draw—how he didn't focus on specific objects or outlines but rather swept his gaze across the whole scene as if framing it from edge to edge—Ernest did the same now, analyzing the entire landscape from one side to the other.
"Company Commander! Damn it! Vendermere! Vendermere!"
In a rush, Ernest shouted the name of his superior, Yurgen Vendermere, over and over.
At the same time, he gestured to the platoon couriers to call everyone over.
"Go find the Company Commander and tell him we've gone to block the right-side trench!"
"Yes, sir!"
Ernest sent just one courier to Yurgen, then hesitated for a moment as he looked over the 2nd Platoon members who were still in combat with the enemy.
He wanted to pull out some troops if he could, but there was absolutely no room to spare.
"Are you going or not!"
A captain—whose name Ernest didn't even know—grabbed him by the shoulder and asked.
"Yes, sir!"
Ernest answered forcefully, getting to his feet and signaling to two more couriers.
"You crazy bastards! Follow me!"
The captain shoved Ernest back, and then crouched low and took the lead, starting to run ahead.
"Run! Run!"
"Arghhh!"
"Damn it!"
Ernest let out a yell as he sprinted, and though the couriers screamed and cursed, they still followed their young platoon leader at a run.
"Get up! Reinforcements are here! The 1st Battalion is here!"
The captain, whose name Ernest still didn't know, was the first to leap into the trench.
He grabbed the crouching, praying soldiers and began pulling them to their feet.
"The 1st Battalion is here! Just hold on a little longer!"
Shouting himself hoarse, he bellowed at the exhausted soldiers, forcing them upright.
Ernest followed right behind, grabbing the shoulder of a soldier who looked up at him, giving him a shove so he'd face the enemy.
"I don't expect you to stick your head out and fight! Just keep firing your gun so the enemy can't get through!"
Ernest shouted harshly into the soldier's ear as he passed, and the two couriers came after him.
Startled, the soldier realized that the man who'd just passed behind him was his own Company Commander, and the next was a young officer he'd never seen before.
The Company Commander himself was in the trench, encouraging his men alongside an officer from another company.
Normally, he would have thought the situation was desperate if leadership had to get involved at this level, but the soldier believed that reinforcements had arrived and their side could now overwhelm the enemy—that was why they'd come into the trench.
"Reinforcements are here! Reinforcements have arrived!"
He shouted at the top of his lungs, brimming with hope.
Following his orders, he didn't risk sticking his head up, but thrust only his muzzle over the trench and fired at the enemy.
The news that reinforcements had arrived snapped the soldiers huddled in the trench back to their senses, and they lifted their heads.
At first, they were baffled when they saw the Company Commander rushing in, grabbing and shoving them upright.
But when they saw Ernest coming after him, they finally realized that reinforcements really had come.
The only reinforcements in this trench were Ernest and the two couriers—for a total of three—but since the 2nd Company had come to hold the position, saying reinforcements had arrived wasn't a lie.
In the trench on the right side of the line, the soldiers began to get up and fight again.
It really was nothing special.
That was because their number was so few.
However, from the perspective of the Belliang Army, who expected only minimal resistance in the trench and were preparing to charge and seize it before attacking the main position, this was a confounding development.
"Now go and take command of your platoon!"
"Yes, sir!"
After getting the soldiers in the trench up and fighting again, the nameless captain sent Ernest back.
Ernest returned to the position without a word.
But the captain remained in the trench.
He grabbed a rifle and fired at the enemy himself, spurring the soldiers on.
When Ernest made his way back to the position through the trench, Yurgen came rushing over, crouched low and panting.
"The soldiers are fighting again, so it doesn't look like we'll be overrun right away!"
"Where's he?"
"He's fighting in the trench!"
There was no need to specify who "he" was—everyone understood.
Yurgen's expression twisted at Ernest's answer.
"I've requested support! For now, just take command of your platoon!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Hertz! Hertz!"
"Damn it! You bastard! Where the hell are you hiding!"
Leaving Yurgen, who was furiously yelling for Hertz, Ernest went ahead and joined 2nd Platoon.
Since the 1st Squad was up on the hill with the deputy platoon leader, Gustav, Ernest headed straight for Sven's 3rd Squad, which was holding the front line.
"Sven!"
"Platoon Leader!"
Sven brightened when Ernest entered the trench and came over.
To Ernest, that was never a good sign.
"There's some kind of ghostly bastard out there! We can't even stick our heads or hands out!"
Sven spoke urgently.
A sniper with incredible skill had pinned down the 3rd Squad.
Even though they clung to cover in the trench, they had already lost two men, with another badly wounded.
It could have been dumb luck, just stray bullets, but Sven was convinced that one person was responsible.
The timing of when their men were shot lined up too perfectly.
But there was nothing Ernest could do just because Sven said so.
In the rain-soaked forest, both sides were firing bullets for all they were worth—how was anyone supposed to find a sniper like that?
For now, Ernest decided to try solving the problem through Baltracher Hertz.
He would have to ask Yurgen if he could borrow Hertz for a bit, but when he saw the Balt Wind starting to blow from the trench on the right flank, Ernest had no choice but to give up that idea.
Yurgen had already deployed Hertz to hold the right-side trench.
If Hertz wasn't there, the enemy might charge into the trench at any moment, so there was no way to pull him out.
"Damn it! Sven! Keep your eyes on me!"
"Yes, sir!"
In the end, Ernest had to resolve the situation himself. After telling Sven to watch him closely, Ernest crawled out of the trench and flattened himself on the ground for cover. There was probably a skilled sniper waiting to pick him off, but there was no other choice.
Then he quickly scrambled up the hill and caught up with Gustav, who was attacking the enemy from the high ground with the 1st Squad.
"Gustav! There's a sniper among the enemy!"
"Damn it!"
The first thing Gustav did when he heard the grim news was curse.
Officially, the Imperial Army didn't deploy snipers.
There was no need for such a specialty since the Balt Gun was vastly superior to the Powder Gun.
But it was common within units to pick out sharpshooters and assign them special sniper missions.
"They're targeting the 3rd Squad!"
"Ralf! They're aiming for the 3rd Squad!"
"Goddamn it!"
"I already told Sven! He's keeping watch over here!"
"Ralf! Keep your eyes wide open!"
"Yes, sir!"
As soon as Gustav heard the situation from Ernest, he immediately gave orders to Ralf, and even while cursing under his breath, Ralf pressed himself close to the wall at the top of the hill and got ready.
Ernest also crawled along on his hands and knees to find a new position.
Ernest motioned to Ralf, signaling how they'd divide the lookout points.
Despite the tense moment, Ralf managed a wide grin and nodded back.
"We're ready!"
At Ernest's words, Gustav glanced at him with a hint of worry.
Still, there was no way Ralf alone could keep the whole area covered, even for a few moments.
Gustav crawled over to the edge of the hill and cautiously peeked out.
He made eye contact with Sven, who, following Ernest's orders, was watching the upper side of the hill.
Sven immediately caught on to what his job was.
While hunkered down in the trench, he grabbed two of his squad members and gave them brief instructions.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
"Hurry up! We don't have time!"
They hurriedly grabbed a corpse lying at the bottom of the trench and hauled it up. It was much faster to just lift a body than to bother with taking off the helmet or draping a raincoat over it.
Once the body was ready, Gustav and Sven exchanged glances.
"Now!" Gustav shouted, waving his hand, and the soldiers in the trench heaved the corpse upward. At the same time, Ernest and Ralf poked their heads over the wall.
Thud!
"Ugh!"
The moment the corpse's head appeared, it was shot in the same spot again. The startled soldiers flinched back, and the already long-dead body collapsed in an eerily lifelike way.
Bang!
At the same moment, Ernest quickly propped his gun up on the wall and fired.
The shot was so fast it was questionable if he'd even aimed.
"I got him!" shouted Ernest, then quickly ducked down and dashed down the hill.
"Ha ha ha! Holy shit! That was awesome!"
Gustav, startled, tried to grab Ernest, but Ralf burst out laughing in relief and resumed firing at the enemy.
Ralf had also spotted the enemy sniper.
The sniper might've had exceptional shooting skills, but his hiding was clumsy at best.
He was probably just a kid who could pull a trigger.
So Ralf raised his gun, determined to kill the awkward sniper.
But before he could even get the weapon propped up, Ernest had already taken him out.
Ralf saw, clear as day, the guy crouched behind a tree slump down lifelessly.
"Ralf! Get your head down! Do you have a death wish?" Gustav shouted.
"Yes, sir!" Ralf replied.
Ralf was so worked up that he'd gotten reckless, so Gustav sharply yanked some discipline into his head, almost as big as a room.
Startled back to his senses, Ralf quickly returned to fighting more cautiously.
This is insane, Ernest thought.
He moved back and forth between the 2nd and 3rd Squads—where the fighting was face-to-face with the enemy—urging the soldiers on.
As he did, he couldn't help thinking privately,
All we're doing is praying the enemy hits their breaking point before we do.
There's no strategy, no tactics.
Ernest had seen straight through the true nature of this battle.
This was just a fight where both sides smashed into each other with everything they had until someone's head cracked open first.
Both sides were suffering losses beyond imagination.
Looking at it objectively, this battle favored the Mihahil Empire.
There was a significant gap in military strength between Mihahil and Belliang, and while the Empire could keep grinding down men and resources like this, it wouldn't take long for Belliang to hit their limit.
The Empire was desperate now—desperate enough to resort to this kind of madness.
If they didn't break through Bertagne Forest and incapacitate Belliang before the rain stopped, the Alliance Army would start pressing them, and Mihahil's ability to continue the war would plummet.
In fact, the Alliance might already be pounding the Empire from all sides.
The conquest of Belliang had run into far fiercer resistance than expected, and after more than a month, they still hadn't managed to cross even the border at Bertagne Forest. On top of that, it was almost the time of year when the rains would stop in the outer regions of the Empire.
The enemy would be able to operate more freely, while the Empire's heartlands were still beset by rainstorms, making it difficult not just to supply the front, but even to communicate information.
Starting the war at this time was supposed to give them the advantage—Mihahil had hoped to conquer Belliang while the rain kept gunpowder out of play.
But Belliang was holding out far better than expected, and now, ironically, Mihahil was the one shedding blood because of the weather.
No wonder they were losing their heads.
In truth, by the time Belliang had managed to secure this many Balt Batteries, the Empire was already rotting from within.
Military-grade Balt Batteries didn't even have a market price—they were for the Imperial Army only, and selling them to any private party or organization was considered treason.
And yet, so many had ended up in enemy hands.
Belliang had plenty, and the other forces in the Alliance Army probably had even more.
After the first War of Conquest, the Empire had never stopped preparing for war.
To be more accurate, they hadn't cared about anything except war.
As a result, Mihahil's productivity had stagnated, and enemies both inside and outside the Empire had grown fat by selling Balt Batteries to their foes.
The only reason the Empire managed to hold together despite such disastrous internal affairs was the strength of Emperor Walter Ulrich Mihahil.
He alone produced enough Balt Batteries to supply the entire Empire.
In other words, he monopolized their production.
No matter how much you hated Emperor Walter, no matter how well you knew he was a madman and a warmonger who needed to be eliminated right away, no one could depose him because of his monopoly on Balt Battery production.
Why?
Why go to such extremes, pushing for war at any cost?
Amid the bullets raining down and screams echoing across the battlefield, Ernest tried to decipher Emperor Walter's true intentions. But it was impossible to think for long; if you sat in one place even briefly, it was only a matter of time before something collapsed and killed you all.
Still, there was one thing that offered some comfort: it was clear the enemy had reached their limit.
Even the Empire, which had done nothing but prepare for the next war in the seventeen years since the first War of Conquest, had lost so many troops it was struggling to replenish its forces.
There was no way Belliang could continue such reckless fighting any longer.
The battle continued past noon and deep into the afternoon, and Belliang's attacks gradually weakened.
The 2nd Company was sent into the fight and immediately called for reinforcements, but no help ever arrived.
Now, there were hardly any troops left to hold the position.
Still, they held the line.
They stopped the enemy.
And it was obvious that the enemy's strength was finally failing.
"It feels like it's finally coming to an end…"
"There's no way the Belliang bastards can keep fighting after this."
Even the soldiers could sense it.
A faint sense of hope began to spread across everyone's faces.
Then at last, the enemy's assaults stopped completely.
On the battlefield that had felt like hell, only the quiet sound of rain could now be heard.
In truth, the rain was still pouring down in sheets, and the wind was howling so fiercely that it made your ears ring.
But for those who had fought so long with the constant crack of gunfire, it was as if all sound had suddenly vanished.
Now, the only thing breaking the silence was the sporadic gunfire echoing from somewhere far off in the distance.
"Don't let your guard down! It's not over yet!" Yurgen shouted hoarsely inside the quiet trench.
But the soldiers, thinking it was all finally over, had already relaxed.
With their backs slumped against the trench wall, heads bowed, they sat staring blankly at the ground.
"Get up! We have to keep fighting until the order to retreat comes!"
"Damn it! Snap out of it!"
Seeing this, the company non-commissioned officers, though exhausted, dragged themselves up and began the difficult task of rallying the soldiers to their feet.
"It's... not over?" Robert, covered in mud and barely able to stand, staggered over to Yurgen and asked.
Whack!
"Get a grip, you idiot!" Yurgen gritted his teeth and punched Robert's helmet with his fist.
It probably hurt Yurgen more to hit Robert than it hurt Robert to be hit.
"It's not over until we get the order from above! Stop spouting nonsense and get back to leading your platoon!"
"…Damn it…"
Robert muttered weakly and trudged off to command the 3rd Platoon again.
He knew Yurgen was right and that he needed to follow his orders.
He was just so exhausted, he wanted to rest, and that made him want to believe it was over.
"Johansson! Where's Johansson!"
"Yes."
"Johansson!"
Yurgen shouted, calling for Benzen.
Benzen replied, but Yurgen, whose ears were ringing from the gunfire during the battle, didn't hear him and called out again, sounding a little—or rather, very—anxious.
"Yes, Company Commander!"
When Benzen answered loudly, Yurgen quickly turned his head to look him over.
A faint look of relief flickered across Yurgen's haggard face.
"You cocky bastard! When your superior calls you, you should answer right away!"
"I did answer. And you don't need to yell, I can hear you just fine."
"...."
Out of breath, Yurgen bristled at Benzen's continued insolence, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Something—rain, sweat, or maybe spit—had clung to his messy beard and now dripped off, as if the frustration were dripping away with it.
"I already told everyone not to let their guard down."
Benzen replied in a dull, exhausted voice.
Say what you will, Benzen had still survived a month on this battlefield.
He knew exactly what he needed to do.
"…Yeah. Fine. Got it..."
Suddenly drained, Yurgen weakly waved his hand in Benzen's direction and mumbled.
His voice barely came out, so Benzen couldn't really understand him.
Yurgen squelched through the mire, glancing around, and soon spotted Ernest speaking with Gustav.
He walked toward them.
"Company Commander."
"...."
Yurgen simply stared at Ernest, who turned to look at him.
Unlike the other officers, Ernest had gotten himself into all sorts of rough situations—he was in a sorry state.
"How's it looking on the right-side trench?" Ernest asked Yurgen.
Soaked by the rain and swollen all over, Yurgen fumbled at his chest with hands frozen stiff from the cold.
Still, even if he tried to smoke his last remaining cigarette in this state, it was so wet he wouldn't be able to light it.
"We managed to hold them off, for now," Yurgen replied, his voice rasping like rusty iron.
"And what happened to that Captain?" Ernest asked again.
Yurgen slowly lifted his head and looked Ernest in the eyes.
"Forget it, Krieger. He's just another face passing by, nothing more."
Yurgen left it at that.
Shuffling away, he trudged down the hill.
As he passed by, he gave Hertz—who was lying flat on the ground with his mouth open to gulp down the pouring rain—a sharp kick in the side.
Too exhausted from running the Balt for so long, Hertz couldn't even get up; he just yelled something in a slurred voice, waving half-heartedly at Yurgen.
The Imperial Army Captain and Senior Captain shouted curses at each other, shoving potatoes into each other's mouths—a ridiculous exchange that made everyone crack a smile.
It seemed, at last, the battle was over.
Bang bang bang bang!
At that moment, gunshots erupted from the right side of the trench, rattling off like the sound of rain. Everyone spun around in shock to look in that direction.
The shots came from the very front line, protruding furthest forward from their semicircular defensive position.
"Oh God..."
Someone cried out desperately, calling for God.
But in this hell, there was no God to answer, and no matter how desperate their prayers, the approaching gunfire made it clear this was no accident—the shots tore through the forest, coming closer by the second.
"Prepare for battle! Prepare for battle!"
Yurgen shouted, his voice cracked and hoarse.
The platoon leaders, Ernest among them, screamed out as well.
The squad leaders did the same.
But the new recruits, who had just faced battle for the first time today, were too exhausted to fight again.
Believing the battle had ended, they had completely let their guard down.
Instead of rising to fight, they clung to the hope that this wasn't really happening.
But the gunfire approached rapidly, and before long, they too could see the enemy charging out of the forest in the distance.
The battle was not over yet.