Chapter 12

### Chapter 12: The Dusky-Blooded Valkyrie

"Wow, it's so plain!"

"Really, it's so plain."

The girls, who were line infantry soldiers, were trying on the new uniform prototypes and saying whatever came to mind.

"Is this black? Or red?"

"Isn't it black?"

"Oh, but if you look closely, it's a bit purplish-red, isn't it?"

The uniform for the line infantry of the 6th Special Operations Brigade turned out to be a dark reddish-brown. The pants were the same color, which was unusual in the empire and its neighboring countries. The pants for line infantry were usually white, probably because they needed a lot of them and didn't dye them individually.

Apparently, our brigade had been under pressure to "not make women wear the same uniform as men," so I thought, "If that's the case, I'll change it, you idiots," and proposed the change. This kind of underhanded harassment is a proud tradition of our glorious empire. It seems similar things happen in craft guilds and the state religion as well.

As I was wondering how to approach the situation, Hanna shouted.

"Hey! Don't say it's plain! This way, menstrual blood won't show as much!"

Don't say that now. There are men here.

The new uniform is primarily a non-conspicuous black. However, pure black would stand out too much on the battlefield, so it was made a darker reddish-brown. It's called maroon, I think, that kind of color. It just so happened that the dye for that color was easy to obtain, but to me, it's close to the color of the commuter trains from my previous life. Hmm, seeing that color always makes me feel down...

Wait? But I can't remember the name of the train line. Come to think of it, where was the station closest to my home?

I realize that my memories from my previous life are gradually fading. The scientific knowledge, which is supported by theory, hasn't faded, but my daily memories are becoming increasingly vague.

As I felt a cold chill down my spine, Hanna put her hands on her hips and said to the girls.

"Everyone was saying that white pants get dirty easily, right? That's why, Lieutenant Colonel..."

"Corporal Hayden, that's enough."

If this continues, I'll be labeled as a menstrual blood enthusiast.

"I just adopted your suggestion. The main goal is to reduce visibility."

I explained to the female soldiers in the platoon.

"Dark colors are called 'receding colors' and have the effect of making things appear smaller. Soldiers who appear smaller on the battlefield are mistaken for being farther away. The enemy will think the bullets won't reach and won't shoot."

Originally, they were smaller than male soldiers, so the dark uniform makes them appear even smaller.

"To make them appear smaller, we also eliminated the unnecessarily tall shako. It's an item designed to make you look bigger."

It's the thing called a shako in my previous life. It looks good but is surprisingly heavy.

By changing to a more modern cap, the equipment became lighter, reducing the burden on the neck. The strategy is to preserve their stamina as much as possible to avoid fatigue.

"Our platoon aims to make the enemy misjudge the distance and engage at a favorable range."

By making them appear smaller, when we get within fifty meters, the enemy should still think we're about sixty meters away. At sixty meters, they might think, "It's still a bit far..." and not shoot. At that distance, muskets are pretty inaccurate.

Thus, we ended up with a line infantry platoon that looked like it came from some railway company.

"It's so plain."

Even Colonel Altsar said that, so I, as a staff officer, had to respond.

"Even if the uniform is flashy on the battlefield, it only serves as a deterrent. And we're already used to that kind of deterrent."

"True. But does this make us a winning army?"

I answered honestly.

"Just changing the uniform won't win a war. Training is still ongoing."

However, there are other equipment reform proposals.

"Once the new rifles are partially procured, we can inflict damage equivalent to half a squad on the enemy platoon with a preemptive attack."

"Hmm."

I've only told the colonel because it's too dangerous, but rifling the barrels and firing conical bullets triples the range and accuracy.

When the enemy thinks, "We're not in range yet," we can shoot them at will. There won't be a war.

If we shoot at a distance of about fifty meters, like with a musket, almost all the bullets will hit. After two to three volleys, most of the enemy will be dead. It's that dangerous a gun.

It has the power to completely change the traditional warfare that has lasted for decades.

If the existence of this gun were to be revealed, it would quickly spread around the world. Line infantry marching in conspicuous uniforms would be easy targets. It would take just a few seconds to create a pile of corpses.

But that's too early for the times. If weapons evolve rapidly before civilization matures, who knows what will happen. The Industrial Revolution hasn't even started yet.

Thinking about all this gave me chills, so I decided to be careful with how I use it.

I'll reduce the enemy before they get close, target their officers and buglers, and use it only as a supplementary measure.

"If three squads and two and a half squads engage in a firefight, even if the enemy resists until the last man, we should have more than half of our soldiers unharmed."

"Really?"

"Theoretically, yes."

In my previous life, there was something called Lanchester's Law, which states that in a firefight with guns, a slight difference in numbers can lead to a decisive advantage. It's a well-known rule among strategy game enthusiasts.

The calculations show that this would be the result.

In reality, the enemy would likely flee before being completely wiped out, so the damage wouldn't be that severe.

"If we can reduce the enemy to two squads, our losses will be less than one squad. It's important to reduce the enemy as much as possible before the firefight."

"I see."

Colonel Altsar pondered.

"Even so, dealing with cavalry will be tough. We also need to be careful of artillery."

"I agree, sir."

"Even if theoretically we can engage in a frontal firefight, I'd prefer to ambush or support missions to make the most of our range. We want to push the casualties onto our allies."

"That's a good idea."

I don't intend to disregard the casualties of our allies, but there's nothing I can do about it. Besides, I'd prefer fewer bullets flying towards me.

However, I'll add this.

"In any case, a platoon alone can't change the course of a battle, so it's best to deploy them when the forces are evenly matched."

"Don't say it all. It's my duty to consider the usage and apply it correctly."

Colonel Altsar took off his cap and sighed deeply.

"There's more to think about now. But with this, we can fight. Lieutenant Chrombertz, well done."

"That's my job, sir."

The colonel nodded in satisfaction at my words.

Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he asked.

"So, how's the rifle procurement going?"

You're still worried about that?

"It's taking time to gather the cavalry rifles. There aren't as many of them as infantry rifles, so there are fewer places to negotiate with."

It will take a while before the first one arrives...