Chapter 15: I Don't Want Any Lieutenant, I Just Want to Go to the Docks and Grab Some Fries

Night of October 27, 1914.

More than fifty hours had passed since Lelouch had crossed into this world.

Within the city of Ostend, the former temporary palace of King Albert I of Belgium had been hastily divided into several sections and converted into the headquarters for several divisions of the 6th Army Group of Demania.

All traces of the Belgian army’s former presence had been roughly erased.

Shortly after nightfall, Major General Karl Lauterbach, commander of the 12th Division, arrived, weary from travel.

In this era without mobile phones, Colonel Lister had no way to track his superior’s schedule. It wasn’t until General Karl’s car pulled up outside that he hurried out to greet him. “Commander! The 16th Regiment has upheld its honor, held Neopole, and helped the main force annihilate the Belgian army! We’ve taken over twenty thousand prisoners!”

Karl nodded approvingly and patted Lister on the shoulder. “You’re the hero of this grand victory. Soon enough, you’ll be a general yourself, and then a division commander. You held off five divisions with just one regiment—why shouldn’t you command a division?”

But promotions to general required approval from the General Staff and the Emperor; Karl spoke more to encourage than to promise.

After brief pleasantries, Karl shifted the conversation. “I’m curious—who was it that keenly predicted the Belgians would blow the dams to block our forces, anticipated the Britannians’ attempt to extract Albert I, and even conceived that poison plan to utterly shatter the Belgian army by disgracing the steadfast resistors?”

Colonel Lister glanced around and noticed Lelouch was nowhere in sight. He quickly asked those nearby, “Where’s Lelouch?”

“Sir, someone has gone to fetch him. He might have been groggy from sleep but should be on his way now,” a staff officer whispered.

Lister feared the commander might be displeased, so he hastened to speak favorably. “He’s probably just exhausted from overworking his mind these past days. But don’t worry, sir, he’ll be here soon. Would you like some coffee to refresh yourself first?”

Major General Karl, unusually in good spirits, was unconcerned. “It’s fine. Just lead me there. I want to see exactly what kind of prodigy he is.”

Lister was struck by Karl’s humility. He knew the commander was also of royal blood—the second son of King Ludwig III of Baria. Though not the heir, it was no small matter for a prince and major general to personally seek out a recently graduated sergeant major.

After turning several corridors, they arrived at a row of temporary officers’ quarters.

Just then, one door burst open, and a disheveled young man rushed out, tidying his cap as he walked—it was Lelouch.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Lelouch saw Colonel Lister approaching, accompanied by a general, and promptly stood at attention and saluted.

“You must be Sergeant Major Lelouch… so young. Lister just briefed me on your exploits,” Karl said.

His first reaction upon seeing Lelouch was to check his collar and lift his arm to confirm the insignia, a gesture full of mixed sentiments.

“Sorry, sir, I probably overslept,” Lelouch politely explained, neither humble nor arrogant.

“You can imagine how much mental effort it takes to devise so many ingenious strategies,” Karl nodded, a playful smile touching his lips. “You’ve done a great service to the Empire. Have you considered what reward you want?”

Lelouch scratched his head. “I just woke up, haven’t thought about it yet…”

Karl asked, “Didn’t you think about it during the battle?”

Lelouch answered frankly, “Don’t laugh, but I was just fighting to survive. I knew if we didn’t annihilate the Belgians, it would be the end for our defenders in Neopole. My only thought was to survive by any means. After the fighting, I just wanted to sleep—though I only managed to fall asleep on the night of the 25th and couldn’t sleep at all on the 26th.

“In these two days, I’ve seen too many wounded comrades. Whenever I close my eyes, I feel that while my brain is resting and unable to strategize, countless comrades are risking their lives to buy my mind time to cool down.”

Lelouch’s tone and expression were sincere, like a seagull indifferent to rewards, only yearning to finish everything and then head to the dock for some fries.

Karl stared into his eyes, increasingly amazed. He could see that the young man was truthful.

This was the detachment of a true doer, driven solely by the primal will to survive.

“Excellent. The Empire needs people like you who focus solely on the mission. Lister said you held the rank of sergeant major but acted as the communications company’s line platoon leader, right? I hereby promote you to second lieutenant.

“This is not a final promotion but a title adjustment to fit the role, with paperwork to follow. If you perform well, there will be more chances for rapid advancement.”

“Sir! I will continue to work hard!” Lelouch responded.

With Karl’s divisional authority, he could theoretically promote someone up to captain.

But Karl could not directly alter Lelouch’s assignment since he belonged to the army group’s communications company, not the 12th Division. So second lieutenant was a sufficient match.

Karl preferred to keep the captain rank in reserve, hoping that after speaking more with Lelouch, the young man might impress him further.

Besides, Lelouch’s rise had been astonishing.

Just three hours after crossing into this world, he jumped from corporal to sergeant major.

After three days, he leapt from sergeant major to second lieutenant. If this pace continued, he’d be a field officer in three months and a general within three years—a staggering prospect, as non-noble officers rarely became generals at such a young age.

The Demanian military was strict about seniority and rank; too rapid a rise bred resentment, especially for a foreigner like Lelouch. These hurdles would need to be overcome.

...

After settling the promotion, Karl was eager to discuss future battle prospects with Lelouch.

Knowing he had just received a reward, Lelouch understood it was time to prove his worth and answered questions thoroughly.

After some thought, based on his understanding of the enemy, he offered some complementary suggestions:

“Commander, although the Belgian forces in Ostend have been annihilated, this battle is not entirely over. Some seemingly minor mop-up tasks require serious attention.

“For example, I believe our forces should promptly and proactively withdraw from Neopole town, consolidating the remaining garrison toward Ostend to avoid greater losses.”

Hearing this, Karl turned to Colonel Lister. “How many troops did you leave in Neopole?”

Lister replied, “When we learned at noon that the Belgians intended to surrender, I pulled two relatively intact and mobile battalions to Ostend for reception. The two other battalions, exhausted and previously depleted, stayed behind to hold the western front against the French for a while.

“But, sir, I believed that as long as we wanted to hold out, even just those two battalions—given sufficient rear support—could resist the French for several more days! Even if the French committed two or three divisions, so what?

“That area is very narrow. To the south lies the flooded zone, to the north the sea; the front is extremely tight. We have opened our rear path, and soon 150mm and heavier long-range artillery will continuously reinforce us.

“For the French to launch a strong attack on such a mere few hundred meters of flat coastal road is suicidal! I guarantee that on the twenty-kilometer stretch from Neopole to Ostend, every kilometer will be soaked with thousands of enemy blood!”

Karl nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, recognizing that Lister’s insight was fundamentally sound.

After over three months of brutal fighting, both sides of this world war had come to a tacit truth: in positional warfare, attackers suffer far more disadvantages, while defenders hold significant advantages.

Attackers can avoid losses only through maneuver warfare, flanking, finding weak points in the defense, and encircling strongholds to cut off reinforcements.

But if there is no room to flank and only a direct frontal assault is possible, the attackers are bound to suffer heavy losses.

The Dunkirk–Depanne–Neopole–Ostend line epitomized such a “whoever attacks suffers” scenario, where floodwaters and the North Sea limited movement to a single road for forty kilometers.

In such advantageous terrain, even an orderly retreat should spare at least 100,000 lives of the Franks.

“Second Lieutenant Lelouch, what is your view? Do you still insist that we should abandon Neopole directly?”

Karl saw this as an opportunity to test Lelouch’s mettle and gave him the chance to elaborate rather than dismissing the suggestion outright.

Lelouch anticipated this moment—his previous brilliant stratagems had been revealed only to Colonel Lister, not witnessed firsthand by the general. Naturally, the general would have doubts.

Of course, this was his chance to showcase his talents and impress the general.

Only then could he secure a stable environment for future development.

Calmly composing his thoughts, Lelouch spoke at length:

“Using terrain that cannot be flanked to inflict heavy losses on enemies forced into frontal assaults is indeed sound strategy. But this idea may overlook one point...”