Chapter 3: You’re Saying This Is The Merit Of A Corporal?
“Sir, this is the French warning broadcast script.”
“This is in Dutch.”
Half an hour later, as two soldiers who knew a little foreign language handed him the stumbling freshly translated script, his expression also became grave.
He knew that he must make a decision that could determine the life and death of many people.
Before this, he had already offered advice to Captain Andri twice, and had even overstepped to try to request instructions from Division Headquarters and warn friendly forces.
But those actions were all the faster the better, without needing to consider the timing.
This time was different; he was very clear that once the broadcast in the enemy’s native language was sent out, the enemy would immediately eavesdrop, intercept, and understand it, and it was very likely to prompt the Belgians to blow up the dam early.
In that case, the 16th Infantry Regiment racing along the road might be flooded even earlier by a moment or two.
Earlier could save more people. Or later could save more people?
Lelouch had never made such a major decision before transmigrating, and for a moment he actually felt some fear.
After all, he was not some demon.
“How about delaying another half hour before sending? Bet that the Belgians definitely won’t blow the dam within half an hour? Or at least wait a quarter of an hour?”
Just as he was intensely hesitating and calculating inwardly, the telegram receiver reacted.
Lelouch was startled and quickly recorded the telegram message first.
It turned out to be a cipher broadcast sent by Division Headquarters.
“Reconnaissance aircraft dispatched by Army Group Headquarters has confirmed the Belgian Army’s explosive operation point downstream of the Yser River, currently continuing to track and photograph; all units please accelerate evasion of possible flooded areas!”
Lelouch translated the telegram message at the fastest speed, and an idea finally took shape in his mind.
“Our army’s reconnaissance aircraft photographed the Belgian Army at work! This is a major victory! In original history, the Belgians blowing the dam was definitely not photographed, so they could argue for a long time afterward, with both sides accusing each other of heavy cannon fire destroying it.
But now the evidence is ironclad! This era has no fighter jets; reconnaissance aircraft photographing from the air cannot possibly be intercepted and shot down by the enemy! And this era has no Photoshop; no one will accuse the photos of being fabricated!”
Thinking of this, Lelouch’s spirits lifted greatly, and he immediately sent a cipher telegram requesting instructions from Division Headquarters at the fastest speed:
“Acknowledged receipt of our side’s capture of enemy pre-explosive evidence. Suggest promptly broadcasting plain text warning telegram to surrounding village towns, and have our army propagate evasion to civilians encountered on the road. If possible, also assist civilians in evading.
Additionally, our unit has pre-drafted French/Dutch bilingual warning telegram; if Division Headquarters permits, our unit can broadcast immediately.”
A few short sentences were sent out in just a few minutes.
The other side’s receipt and decoding would also take a few minutes; all together, permission should arrive within twenty minutes.
After sending, Lelouch sat on pins and needles in front of the radio, repeatedly looking at the broken wall clock.
Several times he even suspected that the broken wall clock had been damaged by bombardment, with its spring running particularly slowly.
“After so long, only ten minutes? Fifteen minutes?”
Just as he felt like he was waiting with cold sweat all over, the telegram receiver finally rang again.
22 minutes had passed since he started sending.
Sure enough, it was the reply from Division Headquarters!
After another 6 minutes of receiving and decoding, Lelouch confirmed that Division Headquarters had authorized it!
Moreover, Division Headquarters said they were also hurrying to prepare bilingual warning broadcasts, and all units could decide independently to carry out humanitarian broadcasts.
In that case, Division Headquarters definitely couldn’t beat Lelouch to the “first broadcast,” because he had already translated it in advance, saving half an hour of translation.
A few minutes later, the French warning broadcast echoed across the vast land first, then Dutch, with the bilingual telegram continuously looping.
The world of 1914 was still very backward; not every nearby town had radio reception. Even if received, they might not bother to decode and pay attention, possibly ignoring it.
But no matter how many received it, even if on average only one out of every three or four towns received the warning broadcast, believed it, and quickly evacuated their homes, that would be immeasurable merit.
The number isn’t key; the key is that someone did it.
Within a quarter of an hour, in places Lelouch did not know, in the vast low-lying areas along the Yser River Banks, several Belgian town mayors began anxiously using loudspeakers to notify townsfolk still remaining in the towns to transfer quickly.
“Fellow villagers, run quick! The army is going to blow the dam and flood the enemy!”
The local remaining population wasn’t that large to begin with, as this was already a war zone; more than half the population, especially the young, had already fled.
Those willing to stay home even as the enemy advanced were mostly the elderly, weak, women, and children.
At least a thousand Belgian Civilians, supporting the old and carrying the young, hastily left their homes, trying to head north and south out of the river valley to higher ground for temporary refuge.
But many more simply didn’t believe the Germanian would be so kind-hearted, nor that the Belgian Army would blow the dam to flood their own people, dismissing it all as rumor.
……
At the same time as the mayors of those towns along the Yser River Banks received the warning broadcast telegram,
the Belgian Army Headquarters at Ostend Port, twenty kilometers east of Nieuwpoort, of course also received the telegram.
This was in their native language plain text, and required no intelligence deception verification, so it spread very quickly.
The Belgian Army Commander-in-Chief was their king, Albert I. A handsome mustached man around forty, with a very angular face.
When he learned the content of the Germanians’ telegram, he was hiding in his office, his face terribly grim.
“You wastes! How did this leak! Such a secretive operation, actually scouted close by the enemy’s reconnaissance cavalry and spotted the flaw!
Drobuk! Felix! You two tell me, whose responsibility is it exactly?! If anyone really believes it, how will we face the people afterward!”
The two named officials immediately showed utmost humble deference and obediently took the scolding.
Drobuk was a civilian official, the Minister of Defense of the Belgians.
Felix held the rank of Lieutenant General and was also Chief of Staff.
After His Majesty vented his anger, Lieutenant General Felix decisively said: “The Yser River defense line is the sector of Major General Viktor’s 6th Infantry Division. The related explosive task was also assigned to him before.
However, the General Staff Headquarters’ plan at the time was to hold as long as possible; only blow it if truly unable to hold against the Germanians’ breakthrough, in the dire emergency of the entire army’s retreat being completely cut off by the Germanian main force! So he hasn’t acted yet!”
Lieutenant General Felix cleared himself with a few words; he hadn’t said to blow it casually—his plan had preconditions: only if not blowing it meant direct national extinction, then blow it.
King Albert, upon hearing this, did not directly blame anyone, but instead paused for breath and asked:
“So do you think we’ve reached the final moment of life and death now? If we delay further, is there still a chance to act? Will it lead to more dreams at night and the enemy grabbing more leverage?”
Lieutenant General Felix’s face changed greatly; he knew it was time to take the blame for His Majesty.
“Yes, Your Majesty, I know what to do.”
He exited the king’s office, returned to General Staff Headquarters, and then directly phoned the 6th Infantry Division Headquarters currently blocking at the Yser River front line.
“Connect me to Division Commander Viktor! This is General Staff! Viktor, can you hear me? Execute the final resistance plan—I mean immediately!”
The voice on the other end of the phone trembled somewhat, unclear what was said.
But twenty minutes later, several weak points on the north bank downstream of the Yser Canal were directly blasted open by massive deeply buried explosives.
Surging seawater immediately rushed from east to west, rampaging and sweeping everything, swallowing all places with negative elevation.
……
“Run quick! The canal embankment really got blown!”
“Devils! Who the hell did it! Definitely the Germanian dogs! I don’t believe they’d kindly warn us to flee; must be thief crying thief!”
“Who knows! Not one of those emperors or kings is any good; they all deserve to die!”
The civilians in the flooded riverside village towns all wailed and cursed, crying to heaven, but powerless; they could only abandon everything and transfer quickly, heading to higher ground as much as possible. Or if their homes had multi-story buildings, go upstairs and wait for the water to recede.
The negative elevations in this area weren’t too severe; the lowest near the river was about negative five or six meters, but most areas just two or three meters.
The fear was being trapped by the water too long, running out of supplies, or the house soaking and collapsing—that would be another story.
At the same moment, in the gentle slope area three kilometers south of Nieuwpoort Town, Colonel Lister of the 16th Infantry Regiment of Baria 12th Division was still leading the whole regiment in a desperate acceleration sprint.
Earlier on the road, he could have gone a bit faster, but after receiving Division Headquarters’ order for independent action, he realized that saving some Belgian Civilians slightly would help as witnesses afterward to avoid the Belgian Royal Family smearing the Empire on this matter.
So half out of soldier’s honor spontaneously rescuing, half for evidence, he ended up saving several hundred civilians along the way.
As the sound of upstream floodwaters gradually became audible, Lister urged the soldiers to speed up again.
“Quick! Accelerate! Division Headquarters engineers calculated: from dam breach to water arriving, half an hour! To fully fill with water, two hours!
Everyone put in extra effort! Can’t run two kilometers in half an hour—you hadn’t eaten?”
Hearing the distant roaring water sound from the east side rear, the soldiers all ran their best long-distance performance ever; no one dared stop, all sprinting with utmost deadly effort.
Even if it felt like their lungs would explode, they dared not slack even slightly.
Some artillerymen who had been horseback towing 77mm field guns in the first half dismounted and swapped with infantry comrades who couldn’t run anymore, letting the infantry ride the last two kilometers to rest their feet.
Relying on such mutual support and strict military discipline, the vanguard of the 16th Regiment smoothly ran straight into Nieuwpoort Town before the water arrived.
The tail end of the column was trapped about half a kilometer in the water. But no big problem; they could wade in on foot.
……
“Water… any water?”
Although Colonel Lister had ridden horseback all the way, the moment he entered the town he was still panting from exhaustion, carelessly sitting by a wall root regardless of image.
Captain Andri, responsible for town defense, heard friendly forces had arrived and hurried over dusty but proud, to hand over, and handed the colonel a canteen:
“Respected Colonel, Division direct cavalry reconnaissance company commander, Hans Andri reporting to you.”
“François Lister, 16th Infantry Regiment Regimental Commander. What’s the current situation?” Lister, grimy and dirty, casually returned a salute, then started gulping water.
Andri hadn’t expected the colonel to be so urgent, not a word of nonsense. So he immediately pulled out the map, spread it, and pointed while explaining:
“Our army repelled a French Army attack half an hour ago again. The enemy is numerous, but they should have just arrived at Dunkirk and De Panne not long ago, temporarily only with light weapons.
As for the Belgians to the east, I’ve seen it: they fled here all the way from Antwerp in disarray, definitely lost all heavy equipment, can only charge with manpower; as long as our army has sufficient ammunition, we can at least hold off ten times the enemy!
Now with a whole regiment of reinforcements, this battle is still winnable.”
Per the original plan, Baria 12th Division was to come entirely; now only one regiment arrived. The remaining three infantry regiments and artillery regiment were cut off south of the flooded area, equivalent to only twenty percent of the planned force reaching the interception point.
No matter what, this was already dozens of times the force compared to before when there was only one reconnaissance company.
Historically the reconnaissance company had to face two hundred to one; now just ten to one.
But Lister seemed to think Andri’s report missed the key points, so he raised his hand to interrupt:
“None of that’s most important; answer me two key questions first: First, how much area did the flood actually submerge? Did it only block our army’s reinforcements? Any impact on the enemy’s breakout?”
Andri: “I’ve had people roughly survey the water situation; this town is completely un-flooded, and the enemy attack and breakout routes on the east and west sides are unaffected—that is, the entire Coastal Highway is not submerged.
This stretch of dozens of kilometers of coastal area has probably been a natural peninsula since ancient times, not man-made reclaimed land; the natural terrain is high enough. Whereas the Yser River Banks to the south were enclosed by seawalls.
So, the only effect of this flood is blocking our reinforcements from the south; no impact on the enemy—
If anything, it forces them to assault head-on along the Coastal Highway, limiting the battlefield width so the enemy can’t bypass and flank us from the flooded area. We just need to hold the east and west sides, no need to worry about the south.”
Upon hearing this, Colonel Lister’s brows furrowed slightly, no clear joy or worry showing.
He pondered briefly, then added the last key question: “How did you discover this crisis? Were those temporary countermeasures you came up with yourself? I just saw the telegrams the signals officer received en route; you seemed to anticipate Division Headquarters.”
Hearing this praise from the colonel, Andri felt both proud and a bit embarrassed.
He ultimately couldn’t bring himself to shamelessly claim credit; after hesitating a few seconds, he organized his words and told the truth:
“Actually… all of this was discovered by a corporal from the Army Group direct communications battalion cable laying platoon, and it was he who adaptably came up with the emergency countermeasures.
Earlier I was busy commanding the battle, so the entire telegram room was temporarily entrusted to him.”
Colonel Lister was stunned, dumbfounded.
“A corporal?! Utterly absurd—is this how the Empire buries talent? How could a corporal have such keen insight and strategic foresight? He saved my entire regiment! Quick, have him come see me! No, take me to see him!”
