Chapter 2: One Company Holds Off Three Divisions, Yet the Advantage Remains Ours!

Under Captain Andrei’s instructions, several soldiers promptly led Lelouch and Clovis to a cellar beside the ruins of the mill. The cellar door had been deliberately smashed open, and a cable ran through the hole, connecting to an antenna resembling a clothes-drying rack.

Having crossed over in time, Lelouch had inherited some subconscious knowledge and skills from the original body, who had been a communications technical officer. Thus, with just a glance at the antenna, he casually asked the guiding soldier, “Are you using the F08 micro transceiver for your equipment?”

The soldier opened the cellar door while casting an admiring look, “Quite professional, indeed.”

Without further ado, Lelouch strode into the cellar and immediately began operating the radio. This type of transceiver had a power output under 50 watts, with an effective transmission range between 10 and 50 kilometers—though this number was never fixed, as weather and the day-night cycle affected the ionosphere. Nighttime transmissions often reached several times farther than daytime, and clear weather allowed for greater distances than rain or snow.

It was afternoon now, the weather was clear, and the terrain was relatively elevated here, so he estimated they could contact friendly forces within a 20-kilometer radius. In 1914, the German army rarely assigned radios below the regimental level; battalions and companies relied on mounted couriers. But Captain Andrei commanded a reconnaissance company, which needed to relay enemy intelligence promptly, hence the higher-grade equipment.

Lelouch’s fingers clicked rapidly on the telegraph key until they seemed to smoke. He hardly bothered to encrypt the message heavily, only adding some identification codes to verify the sender’s identity.

“Report from the 12th Infantry Division Reconnaissance Company: Urgent! Our unit has discovered that Belgian forces have installed explosive devices on the downstream dike of the Yser River! The dike could be demolished at any moment! All units that have crossed to the northern bank must immediately abandon all non-essential equipment and regroup at the town of Nieuwpoort at the fastest possible speed! Repeat, regroup and hold at Nieuwpoort!

All friendly forces yet to cross, do not drag heavy artillery or supply trains into the lowlands along the river! Move to the nearest high ground! Any low-lying areas within ten kilometers on either side of the Yser River are at risk of flooding! Request the division to urgently contact reconnaissance aircraft for supplementary observation…”

Lelouch hadn’t even drafted his message beforehand. His tone was blunt, straightforward—he was racing against death itself. If anyone nearby had reviewed his dispatch, it would never have been sent. But with the communications platoon leader dead and the reconnaissance company commander occupied resisting French forces, only this corporal could act freely.

The signal swept across the sky, over fields, instantly covering a 20-kilometer radius.

...

At the same moment, about seven or eight kilometers southeast of the town, the headquarters of the 16th Infantry Regiment, freshly across the Yser River, received Lelouch’s warning via a backpack radio.

The Demanian communications officers were efficient, and the decoded message was swiftly delivered to Colonel Lister.

“Colonel! Urgent intelligence from the division’s reconnaissance company!”

Colonel Lister, a stern man nearing fifty, barely glanced at the telegram through his monocle before trembling. His mind raced, standing frozen for seconds as cold sweat dripped from his forehead, wrestling with a painful decision.

After ten seconds, he took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, “Order the 3rd Battalion at the front to concentrate horses to haul several 77mm field guns; abandon all other heavy artillery on the spot! Gather all 77mm shells!

Discard all tents from the supply wagons, abandon the field kitchens! Keep only three days’ rations; discard the rest! Advance at full speed on foot! Anyone who falls behind is to be shot!

You men, leave a few horses and wagons here with the radio to guard the abandoned supplies and await formal orders from division headquarters! If no new orders arrive within half an hour, or flooding is observed, catch up immediately!”

Chaos erupted across the regiment. Luckily, Demanian soldiers were known for strict obedience; within minutes, hundreds of heavy wagons were cleared. Horses once used for hauling supplies now carried men. Only a small group, ordered by the colonel to stay behind and guard the discarded materials, remained with the radio.

Abandon heavy artillery, burn tents and kitchens, carry three days’ rations, and march at full speed.

...

Similar scenes unfolded repeatedly within twenty kilometers of Nieuwpoort. Some regiments acted decisively; others hesitated. Some moved immediately; others waited for division orders.

...

Soon, the 12th Infantry Division headquarters received the message. After a brief glance, Major General Karl Luitpold took the warning seriously.

“If there’s no flood, we might recover the equipment, and some losses would be acceptable. But if the dike is breached, the entire division won’t drown, but all heavy equipment will be lost, and reaching Nieuwpoort will be impossible…”

Frowning deeply, General Karl studied the military map intensely. His gaze shifted between Ostend to the east and Dunkirk to the west, measuring distances with a ruler.

Finally, with a heavy fist, he slammed the map table. “The Belgians must know that if we push the entire division through Nieuwpoort and cut off the coastal highway, their whole army will be doomed! It seems they might actually do this!

Immediately order the whole division to heighten alertness and issue a formal command based on the reconnaissance company’s warning! Also, send a message to army headquarters to urgently dispatch reconnaissance aircraft for close surveillance of both banks downstream of the Yser River!”

General Karl’s orders were methodically deployed. His division was still over twenty kilometers from Nieuwpoort and had not yet entered the lowlands south of the Yser, so there was no risk of flooding where they were—at least for now. They could afford to pause and observe developments, losing no more than an hour or two.

...

Lelouch’s telegram could have been intercepted by nearby French or Belgian forces. Yet on a chaotic battlefield, even if the enemy captured the message, they would need extra time to decode it. Even then, they might not believe it or could dismiss it as enemy propaganda meant to demoralize.

At the final stage of the “Race to the Sea” campaign, both sides were exhausted and fragmented. The battlefield chaos severely reduced communication efficiency. The French and Belgians also lacked coordination. Whether the Belgians planned to blow the dikes was their secret; the French were unaware.

Thus, it was unsurprising that the enemy realized the danger an hour or two later than their own side.

Lelouch never hoped to keep the enemy from intercepting; he only needed to gain a time advantage.

After sending and receiving the message, he reviewed his wording and handed the transcript to Captain Andrei, who had just finished commanding a small skirmish.

“Captain, I’ve broadcast the warning to nearby friendly forces. The 16th Regiment has replied—they’re seven to eight kilometers away and have begun moving light. They’ve also consulted division headquarters, which approved their adaptive measures. So our recommendation has official sanction.”

Andrei anxiously checked his watch. “How soon can Colonel Lister’s regiment arrive here?”

Lelouch replied, “They’ve crossed and are accelerating. Even if the Belgians detonate the dike immediately after realizing the change, by the time the flood reaches them, they should be only two or three kilometers away. They can wade the last stretch on foot—people won’t drown, just some equipment loss.”

Andrei exhaled slightly, “Even if the whole division can’t arrive, if Colonel Lister’s regiment reaches us, we still have a fighting chance.

The French only reached Depanne, seven kilometers west of us, this morning from Dunkirk. The attacking French came from Depanne.

Though the enemy outnumbers us by over tenfold, they must arrive at the front line gradually, which creates a war of attrition. One regiment can hold the line!”

His analysis eased Lelouch’s mind. The Race to the Sea battle was truly chaotic. Both sides raced for their lives, frantically pushing northward in a long, stretched-out line. A single division could span over ten kilometers; when the lead regiment engaged, the last might still be half a day away.

This applied not only to Germans and French but also to the retreating Belgian forces from Antwerp.

...

They appeared to have three divisions, but only the vanguard of the first was nearing Nieuwpoort. The third division hadn’t reached Ostend, twenty kilometers east.

Seeing Lelouch recovering, Andrei handed back a rifle lying nearby. “If you don’t need to contact higher command again, take your squad to help defend, or check if your other non-commissioned officers have regained consciousness. Our defensive pressure is increasing.”

As he spoke, distant explosions and the continuous rattle of machine guns testified to the fierce fighting.

Lelouch stared at the rifle, feeling that as a communications technical officer and military enthusiast, it was a waste of his abilities to serve as infantry. He could clearly make a greater difference. Having only just crossed over a few hours ago, he was still adapting. He had only one life; if he could avoid facing bullets directly, he preferred to do so.

He racked his brain rapidly and soon proposed an idea.

“Captain, I think I can contribute more to the campaign by staying in the communications room. No matter how tough things get, you don’t lack infantry.”

Andrei raised an eyebrow, ready to scold him but reconsidered, recalling Lelouch’s recent contributions. “Speak quickly then!”

Lelouch said, “I can monitor the enemy’s shortwave unencrypted transmissions nearby to gauge their reactions and possibly predict if they plan to detonate the dike early.

Also, we could consider broadcasting clear warnings in French to nearby Belgian villages if necessary, urging innocent civilians to evacuate in advance.

If the Belgians blow the dikes, tens of kilometers north and south along the river, and nearly a hundred kilometers east to west, will flood to varying degrees. Even if no lives are lost, dozens of villages will be destroyed.

These Belgian civilians are innocent and victims of the Belgian military’s actions!”

Andrei was momentarily stunned—not because he disagreed, but because it conflicted with his previous impression of Lelouch’s character.

“Are you serious? That would honor military ethics, but do you really care about these civilians’ lives?”

Lelouch spoke rapidly, “What I think isn’t important! The key is that this isn’t just a humanitarian act; it has military advantages!

If we don’t broadcast warnings, everything will become a mess. The enemy might blame us for bombing the dikes, and the chaos will be unprovable in this battlefield.

Most civilians and ordinary soldiers don’t understand military strategy or who benefits from the flooding; they’ll believe their side’s propaganda and hate us more.

But if we seize this opportunity to promote our humanitarianism, and friendly forces bring aid to evacuate innocent locals while moving light northward, these people could become witnesses to our humanity, potentially lowering enemy morale—

If the Belgian soldiers retreating from the east learn their generals blew the dikes and drowned their own people while we are rescuing those civilians, will their resolve to break out be so strong? Might they hesitate more when considering surrender?”

Captain Andrei was dumbfounded by Lelouch’s chain of reasoning.

Compared to Easterners, Demanian officers were extremely unsophisticated in psychological warfare and propaganda.

Lelouch had casually drawn from the Twenty-Four Histories and classical military strategies he had read in his former life, astonishing these straightforward officers.

Swallowing hard, Andrei asked, “When do you plan to send this broadcast? If too soon, might it provoke the Belgians to detonate the dike immediately?”

Lelouch answered, “Not soon—I’ll need you to provide several soldiers fluent in French or Dutch as assistants. I must first translate the broadcast into those languages, which will take at least half an hour.”

Andrei clenched his teeth. “Very well. No matter how intense the defense, two or three men won’t hurt. I’ll find translators. You focus on translating and broadcasting in the cellar! We’ll handle the fighting up here.

Corporal Lelouch, you’re no ordinary NCO. Even if you didn’t attend military academy, you probably went to university, right?”

Lelouch recalled the background of his current body and candidly admitted, “You’re right. I’m actually a citizen of the Aurelio Empire but ethnically Demanian. I was top in math at school and just graduated in July from the Royal Academy of Arts’ architecture department. I was about to find a job when the war broke out. I dislike the mixed-ethnic atmosphere in the Aurelio army, so I crossed into the Kingdom of Baria in Demania to enlist.”

“No wonder you’re so sharp,” Captain Andrei said, suddenly everything made sense. “With your skills, you should be in the engineering corps, not communications. Whoever assigned you as a corporal is wasting your talents.”