Chapter 6

Chapter 006

I hope you have been in good health. As the heat recedes and the cold approaches...

I will ensure that the employment of the veterans you mentioned earlier proceeds without any issues. Although you have not explained why a large wine storage is needed outside Orléans, I hope this will be of some help.

...

The disposal of land and the settlement of assets have not yet been addressed. I believe it is too risky to rush into these matters, as they could easily lead to legal complications.

Lastly, regarding the technicians and production you mentioned. While I cannot guarantee it, I believe you will see meaningful results in the near future.

However, the continuous development, production, and distribution or introduction of these items exceed the capabilities of the Mohel family, so I hope you will reconsider.

-Administrator, Frederick David

A letter mixed with the progress of work and concerns. Despite the polite and elegant tone, I could sense Frederick's worry.

Frederick David.

He introduces himself as a mere administrator, but in reality, he is the backbone of the Mohel family.

Thanks to his help, I, the only Mohel, can serve in the military with peace of mind.

In my memory, Frederick has been present since my early childhood.

Sometimes as a friend, sometimes as a teacher and assistant, he silently supported and cheered for Berger Mohel from behind.

"A good person who, having been saved by the previous Mohel, wishes to repay the favor."

Because I can trust him, I have entrusted him with various tasks.

First, to gather as many veterans as possible under the name of Mohel.

Of course, I haven't told Frederick that a war is about to break out, so it's natural for him to be puzzled. Still, he willingly follows the young master's wishes.

There is another task that needs to be done as quickly as possible, alongside the transformation of the entire military into officers.

That is, the 'modernization of the entire military.'

The rifle currently used by our unit is the Lebel M1886, also known as the Lebel rifle.

To be honest, the Lebel rifle isn't bad. Accuracy, range, reliability, durability, and operability—all are quite good. It even fires a powerful 8mm bullet.

However, it fails to meet the one crucial requirement I need.

'The most important thing is that it lacks firepower.'

If the Lebel rifle is our unit's main weapon, I can confidently say that it would be better to train everyone as snipers from now on.

After training them, it would be better to have them aim at the enemy's head leisurely during an assault.

Of course, they would all be dead before they could fire a few shots.

That's how ineffective the infantry's firepower is right now.

"Ah, just because you give a rifle to a bunch of people, they become an infantry unit?"

The grenades used by the grenadiers have been supplied in small quantities, but their stability, range, and technical issues make them difficult to use as a source of firepower.

Ultimately, if you want to survive and fight the enemy on the battlefield, there is only one way.

You need to take the Lebel rifles from the soldiers and give them something else.

But if I were to tell Fabien right now, 'Hey, we're going to scrap the Lebel rifles and replace them with other weapons!'

"I'd be dragged to a military tribunal immediately."

I want to run to Pétain right now and shout, 'Baaah! Small mortars are infantry weapons!'

Not just mortars. I want to change everything from the doctrines in the soldiers' minds to their personal weapons, except for my wife and children.

But if I did that, I'd be the first to be sent to the front lines as soon as the war breaks out.

In the end, I need Pétain.

Pétain, who cheers and incites me from behind as I act recklessly.

Tap tap.

I tapped my fingers on the desk aimlessly, trying to recall what I needed, and fell back into deep thought. It was more of a wait.

"The third report should have arrived yesterday."

It was about time for Pétain's signal.

No matter how much of a lazy old colonel he is, he must realize that his 'ignoring' me won't be enough anymore.

"Or maybe he needs to write a prophecy to get his fat ass moving."

My goal is not to become a war hero or to have my name, 'Berger Mohel,' inscribed in history.

It is this.

Knock knock.

"Come in."

The door burst open, and a person in a neat but still unfamiliar 19th-century uniform with a round cap entered.

"Salute!"

"Good, how do you feel?"

"It's indescribably good!"

Yes, that's exactly it.

What William in front of me is doing.

"Those who need to be sent must be sent. Try it."

"Salute! I report! Sergeant William Fer received orders to be discharged on September 29, 1913! I hereby report! Salute!"

"Salute."

Seeing William standing proudly in front of me, I felt tears welling up. I unconsciously brought my hand to my eyes. As I bowed my head and covered my eyes with my hand, William's voice pierced my ears.

"Captain..."

"Go now."

I ordered William to leave without looking at him. If I looked at him now, I would break down and cry.

"Thank you... for everything."

"Go."

Even after being told to go, William hesitated and didn't leave.

Are you kidding? You're discharged, and I still have a few days left. Did the 1000 days break?

"Although it wasn't easy, you were truly an irreplaceable superior... always for me..."

He kept sobbing and talking, but I couldn't hear him. I want to cry, so why is he crying? Go to hell.

"Until we meet again, please take care of yourself!"

I almost choked. This is a mockery. A mockery.

'Until we meet again? Do you even know what day that is?'

Crunch.

Even if I could grind the sergeant to bits, the only thing I can do is ruin my dental health, which is even more tragic.

"Enough... go."

"Sniff, sniff... Thank you."

'When I send you off alive...'

That was the only thing I could manage to say. I couldn't bring myself to say the rest.

No matter what I say here, he is a victorious discharged soldier, and I am a defeated one who has to wake up at 0600 tomorrow.

With superhuman patience, I sent William off and tried to gather my shattered spirit.

"Ha... I want to be discharged too."

It's really, really simple. Can't France, which conscripts millions, just let me go?

If they do, I can close my eyes tightly, cover my ears, and let history take its course.

Whether General Foch beats the drum with Hindenburg or a communist state is established, it really has nothing to do with me.

If the personnel department of the higher command just stamps 'Lieutenant Berger, unfit for service! Go home!' on my file, I can live my life with the mantra 'The world outside the blanket is dangerous.'

Suddenly, a surge of aimless anger rose.

"No, honestly, what have I done wrong?"

Alone in the office, unfiltered words spilled out of my mouth.

"Is it really reasonable to be in a situation where I can't be discharged and might die? Why me!"

I always think I know myself well.

I am not a hero who would appear in history books or a brave commander who leads from the front on the battlefield.

"I was just a common citizen living in 21st-century South Korea...

A person who knows how to be content with small things and doesn't overreach.

"Huh."

Nicotine. My parched soul now craves a cigarette.

Who am I trying to vent my anger on?

The silence of the office, which becomes peaceful when I close my mouth, tells me there is no one to answer.

After lighting a pipe and taking a few puffs, my brain, finally fueled, calmed down.

Still, the stress of death drawing closer day by day did not disappear.

"So, it's not possible to remove me from the original history?"

Then there's nothing I can do.

"Damn... then I have to change history."

In the process, those who should live will die, and those who should die will live, but there's nothing I can do about it.

As a mere member of society, I am originally a selfish person who only thinks about myself, and I don't care whether the bourgeoisie or the proletariat thrives.

Furthermore, I don't care about the state or history.

First, I need to survive.

***

Watching a sprout grow is a truly satisfying experience.

It's enjoyable to observe how each leaf grows, and it's also satisfying to see how much it has grown when you look away for a moment.

The recommendation letter for Lieutenant Berger's admission is already written.

It would be better if he becomes a captain in 3 or 4 years, but since Lieutenant Berger was appointed due to a shortage of personnel, it's not a problem.

"Once you graduate from École Polytechnique and join the artillery regiment, you can do whatever you want."

The threshold for the artillery is getting higher and higher.

Modern artillery is not like the old direct-fire guns that aim at enemies within sight.

They need to aim at and fire at enemies several kilometers or even tens of kilometers away, over mountains, so the technical aspects are naturally advanced, and the tactical and strategic aspects are also sophisticated.

"Here's another one. I was going to tell him it's not necessary."

It's about time to call Lieutenant Berger in directly. There's no need to put more effort into these reports. I want to have a serious conversation with him and tell him I will help him get admitted.

'With Lieutenant Berger's insight, the staff side also seems promising...'

Thinking this, Pétain leisurely sipped his tea and picked up the papers written by Berger.

However, Pétain's thoughts did not continue.

It seemed to be an extension of the report on the Ottoman Empire's colonial division, but the content was completely different.

There was no speculative or hypothetical tone.

A strong conviction that a war will break out. The report felt like it was shouting that it's happening right now.

"This guy... he's exaggerating too much."

Pétain wanted to brush it off, but each sentence was filled with Lieutenant Berger's deep conviction.

'The fundamental cause is the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The indirect cause is the internal colonies being shaken by Russian assistance.'

Each point made him want to say, 'Is that really the case?' but he couldn't refute them definitively.

Thus, Pétain's expression became serious.

What evidence does Lieutenant Berger have to be so confident?

"It's as if he's seen the future. Saying that a war in the Balkans is inevitable."

Who would really want a war in the Balkans?

Germany? The Dual Monarchy? Or a minor country like Italy or Spain? At least not Britain or France, right?

Only Russia. Even they can't directly intervene, so they might send military training units to the colonies or provide supplies. This is a public secret and a possibility.

Then, what is bothering Pétain?

"It's not like him. Although I've never met him in person, I know what kind of person Lieutenant Berger is."

A war will break out. The explanation of the causes is almost perfect.

However, the most important part, the result, is missing.

"What is the result of the war?"

There is no explanation about it. It seems to be deliberately avoided.

Pétain tried to piece together the missing pieces that Lieutenant Berger had not revealed.

"The Balkans are a powder keg. Once it explodes, the current European landscape will be twisted, and everyone will be dragged in, whether they want to or not."

This can be seen as an extension of the Great Game or an act to overturn the Bismarckian order.

Russia will once again expand under the guise of Pan-Slavism.

The first to react will be the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

A few years ago, they officially annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina, a former informal vassal, showing their determination not to back down.

The Ottoman Empire, the party involved, is not even in a position to react, so it can be ignored.

"Then Germany won't just sit idly by. The Dual Monarchy and Russia are not even on the same level."

Russia's growth is incredibly fierce.

It is widely believed that in a few generations, France, Germany, and Britain will have to contain Russia.

However, for now, France is allied with Russia.

The Franco-Russian Alliance is still maintained, and it is not just a diplomatic alliance.

Economically, French capital is helping Russia's growth, and technologically, assistance in railways and industrial factories continues.

Based on this information, Pétain's expected diplomatic structure is as follows:

Russia, trying to annex the Balkans, and France, turning a blind eye to it.

In opposition, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Germany, backing them up.

Then, the wildcard is Britain.

"Britain... fears both Russia and Germany."

Germany, which has already surpassed Britain's industrial power, and Russia, with its immense potential.

Because they are an island nation, they are extremely afraid of the emergence of a dominant power on the European continent.

Considering the ongoing naval arms race between Germany and Britain for over a decade, Britain will likely choose the 'status quo' route.

Moreover, as an island nation that passes on a vague fear of Russia to the next generation from birth, they will not want Russia to rise.

Pétain, who had followed this line of reasoning, still could not easily predict the outcome.

No, he still couldn't be certain that a war would break out.

"The information is too lacking. From here on, it's in the realm of imagination to make a hasty judgment."

The process and outcome of the war, and the subsequent negotiations and diplomatic choices, are beyond the scope of this small office.

Then, what conclusion has Lieutenant Berger, who is thinking about all this alone, reached?

"I'll have to ask him directly next time."

Pétain, who had been thinking too hard and felt a headache coming on, shifted his attention.

However, the attention he had shifted returned to the reports in a frenzy the next day.

The next day, October 8th.

Serbia, Greece, and the Kingdom of Montenegro simultaneously declared a war of independence against the Ottoman Empire.

Turkey and Macedonia joined them, and Albania also sent troops to fight for independence.

On the surface, it looked like a colonial rebellion, but it was a known fact that the Russian Empire was behind them, even to an unemployed person in Italy.

The spark had fallen in the Balkans.