Chapter 4

Chapter 004

I put the soldiers through a month of training. To be honest, I was a bit scared. At some point, without even realizing it, I started testing the soldiers as if I were experimenting.

At first, I had a kind heart, thinking, "With this level of schedule, you guys should be able to handle it without getting hurt, right?"

But in just a month, my thoughts had changed to, "Sigh, at this point, you probably don't even have the strength to stagger, right? If you can handle this, I'll push you even harder tomorrow."

It had come to this. Even I, who am not very perceptive, started to sense the danger.

I could smell a strong odor in the sweat the sergeants were shedding. It was the smell of gunpowder, the smell of revolution...

At some point, the way they looked at me was like they were looking at prey.

Well, considering the times, it's impressive they held out so well, given that they suddenly couldn't go home and had to endure a month of dust and toil.

But, what about the 'if things go wrong, tear everything down' spirit ingrained in their blood? It's not like that would just disappear...

According to Fabien, the new recruits who had just transferred in were already missing the injustices of their previous units.

"I tried to vary the training to keep them from getting hurt..."

After all, exercise should be divided, right? I, too, tried to be considerate by dividing the training into morning, afternoon, and evening sessions.

Anyway, if this continues, there are two possibilities.

Either they will go blind with rage, burn the parade ground, set up a guillotine, and put my head on it, or they will desert to save their own skins.

Either way, my plans will be disrupted.

You might think I treat the soldiers lightly and push them around easily, but in fact, I do it because each one is necessary.

As the month passed and the sergeants, now enveloped in the mist of revolution, started to focus on me as if there was a bounty on my head, I quietly called one of the senior sergeants, William, to my office at night.

Sergeant William, who was due to be discharged in just three months, was from a soft-spoken southern village and planned to return to Lyon to work as a city laborer after his discharge.

Knock, knock.

"Come in."

"It's Sergeant William."

William, unable to hide his trembling hands, managed to close the door and stood at attention. Or, he tried to.

"You must be very tired, I see."

"...No, sir."

Even opening and closing the door made his hands tremble. How could he stand at attention?

Seeing his struggling posture, my conscience wavered a bit, but the spark of revolution in his eyes made me firm up my resolve.

'He still has the strength to glare. I can push him further.'

"Cough."

Without realizing it, I started thinking about how to train them tomorrow. Indeed, the life of a commander is not easy.

"Do you know why I called you here?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Your discharge is less than 100 days away."

I understand his feelings better than anyone. Each day will feel like it's dragging on.

You must be looking forward to your discharge while also worrying about your future.

"Is the training, hard?"

"...No, sir."

I heard it. I definitely heard it. William, you definitely hesitated before answering.

Still, I, being a benevolent superior, chose to overlook it. Absolutely not because I was scared.

"Good."

Squeak.

Before getting into the main topic, I leisurely put a pipe in my mouth.

A gentleman's cigarette, the Dunhill pipe. Indeed, the essence of Dunhill is delicious even in this era.

"I know a bit about you."

"Is that so, sir?"

"You received compulsory education until you were 13, and your grades were good, but you couldn't continue due to your family's financial situation. You then worked at a lumber factory as a common city laborer before enlisting. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good... sigh."

As I drew in the nicotine and carbon monoxide, they instantly stimulated my brain.

My repeated act of smoking the pipe before getting to the main topic made me look like I was deeply pondering something.

In fact, I wasn't thinking about anything. I was just pretending to be deep in thought.

'About 10 seconds... Ah, Dunhill is so good.'

Dunhill, a premium cigarette of the 21st century, was famous as a gentleman's cigarette in the 20th century.

In Paris, a fashionable gentleman would consider a Dunhill pipe a must-have and a dream.

William, tense, quietly stood at attention, waiting for my next words.

"I've been observing you. You've been impressive."

Actually, I haven't. With all the new recruits and officers to worry about, why would I pay attention to a sergeant who knows his job?

"The training, I know it's tough. But it's necessary."

It's a process you need to go through for me to survive.

Except for a few exercises that require specific equipment, I've recreated modern guerrilla training.

The sight of the sergeants trembling and dancing the jitterbug after experiencing 21st-century PT exercises... the company commander was satisfied!

"Why... is such a process necessary?"

William's question sounded like, "Why... are you making us eat cake instead of bread? If you don't want to be like Marie Antoinette, can you explain?"

Of course, I had no answer, so I pretended to think deeply, smoking my pipe, and then changed the topic to the main one.

"Do you have a job lined up after discharge? Are you planning to return to the lumber factory?"

"..."

Of course, I haven't experienced it, but the life of a laborer in this era is extremely harsh. How could it be good when laborers have replaced the role of slaves?

The relationship between masters and slaves in the 19th century has merely changed to capitalists and laborers in the 20th century.

"As you know, I am the heir of the Mohel family. Although I'm a soldier now, I will eventually be a major capitalist."

I know what the soldiers say about me behind my back. That I have a lot of money but no friends, so I'm stuck in the unit.

"Given that, I have a proposal for you."

"Please, sir."

"I'll introduce you to a job after discharge. The weekly salary will be 1.5 times the average."

"...What if I make the company go bankrupt?"

"What? Haha!"

I was momentarily stunned, but then I burst out laughing.

To get such a response to a 1.5 times salary offer. How ridiculous the times are.

The logic is that if you pay workers too much, they will become unsatisfied and demand even more from the company, ultimately leading to its downfall.

Indeed, this is a world where such logic is used to propose labor promotion laws. It really feels like the early 20th century.

"If what you say is true, all companies that offer incentives should go bankrupt, right? That's an excessive worry."

His words also implied, "How can you trust me enough to hire me?" but I didn't mention it.

There's no need to ruin the trust I'm trying to build with William.

Yes! Seeing his legs tremble after standing for a few minutes shows he's been pushed hard! I trust him!

"Can I ask what the job is? If it's illegal, I'll pretend I didn't hear it."

"It's simple. A wine company. We build storage and buy wine. A straightforward company."

"Why would such a company offer me extra money to hire me?"

He's suspicious. Of course, choosing a job carefully is important, but I didn't expect this kind of resistance.

'Ah, that look. I get it now.'

Sergeant William, you're harboring resentment towards me. More accurately, you don't trust me.

It's strange for a company commander who has been giving you odd tasks to suddenly make such a proposal.

What should I say? How can I persuade him? After pondering, I spoke again.

"1.5 times the weekly salary. Additional labor allowances. Meals provided. Guaranteed employment for the contract period. Insurance coverage and payment of premiums."

This is the minimum I can offer and can easily provide.

"However, the condition is that you must work for at least two years. Of course, you must work hard while in the unit. You'll also need to receive vocational training and various courses."

"...Why are you offering me such a..."

Indeed, such practical words are more impactful than persuasion.

And why? After all the effort to train you, what if you go somewhere strange after discharge? What's the point of pushing you now?

I need to create a connection and keep you within reach to feel at ease.

After all the effort to make you useful, if you end up under someone else during a war, all my efforts will be in vain.

'In two years, when the general mobilization order is issued, bringing these people under my command will depend on me...'

I'll think about that when the time comes.

"So, will you do it?"

"Thank you... really, thank you."

"Work hard for the remaining period."

With that, I handed him a piece of paper.

It was an employment contract with all the terms I just mentioned.

"Haha..."

"Sign your name."

In an era where people are often hired without a contract, a solid piece of paper is the best way to build trust.

William's eyes were moist, and his lips quivered.

Yes, sign it. Write your name quickly!

Scribble.

He wrote his name with a fountain pen on the desk, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

Honestly, I felt a bit guilty. I knew those tears might turn into blood in two years...

"You can go now."

The modern conscience in my heart made it hard to face this French youth, who was gratefully accepting a slave contract.

After sending him out and puffing on my pipe for a moment, I returned to my list.

"Let's see... the next dischargee, Jasper? From Belgium?"

It doesn't matter if they're from France. As long as they don't have major issues, I plan to hire them all.

Hiring a few dozen or even a few hundred discharged soldiers won't bankrupt the Mohel family, and in the face of survival, money is secondary.

I can always earn more after discharge, and if not, so be it.

"After promoting all the officers, I need to manage them after discharge."

The current French army is around 600,000. By the end of the year, it will exceed 700,000, and efforts will be made to match the strength of the German army.

And when the general mobilization order is issued...

"It will instantly become 2 million. Most will likely be assigned as infantry."

Many will have military experience, but most will be conscripts who can't even shoot a gun properly.

Even if they have served, most active-duty soldiers have only fired a few times, and it's unrealistic to expect them to accurately aim and shoot at enemy machine guns.

This is why I'm obsessed with officer training.

I need at least one person who can stay focused and fight. Someone who can understand and properly execute my orders in a battlefield where bullets are flying.

Especially with the characteristic of infantry, 70% of the unit will be new recruits.

'Indeed, the land of freedom and equality, France! You're planning to create an army led by new recruits to prevent military injustices!'

It would be nice if it were that simple.

Mixing new recruits, Elan Vital, Plan 17, trenches, and machine guns, it's like a mixed rice dish?

Hmm! Even before its release, I can already taste 5.6 million different flavors of blood.

The American B**kins Robbins can't even hold a candle to this.

If I don't add the 'reincarnated but still motherless Lieutenant Berger, deceased' flavor, now is the time to run around with blisters on my feet.

***

07:00 AM. As the unit started to come alive, an old man simply gazed out the window, watching the outside become bustling.

A scene he had seen for years. Now, it felt not just familiar but almost boring, yet it was a space he had grown attached to.

"Those who are about to leave should start preparing."

The military is also a political arena, where he had built relationships and a career with all kinds of people. Now, it was time to stop running and let go.

That doesn't mean he was shirking his duties.

"Reporting, regular report."

"Leave it there."

Reports from the various units under the regiment. Documents detailing training, supplies, and personnel.

Since the lower units just follow what is given from above, there wasn't much for Pétain to check in the personnel section.

Supplies were consistently consumed and replenished, so he only needed to confirm the final numbers and move on. Finally, the training.

Pétain held the training report he had read countless times in one hand and read it.

'Nothing has changed.'

Always just a few pages. When distilled to the essential content, it was half a page. Condensed further, it could be summarized in one sentence: "This month, we just went through the motions."

Among these reports, there was one that stood out, clipped and thicker than the rest.

"Author: Lieutenant Berger Mohel. A new lieutenant. Sigh..."

I can already guess what it will say. A newly commissioned lieutenant trying to stand out with fancy penmanship.

'Does he not know I'm about to leave?'

What good does it do to impress me when I'm just waiting for the day to leave?

Still, when he turned to the first page, the content was surprisingly normal.

"The previous commander's training regimen is being continued. Then, what's the rest about?"

Pétain moistened his lips and turned the page.

He paused at the title at the top of the page.

This was not something a mere lieutenant should be writing.