Raising an infantry squad composed entirely of girls on the front lines was a formidable challenge.
Schweidel's army and the neighboring nations' forces were mostly young men. The physical gap between genders was undeniable. But on the battlefield, there was no room for such distinctions.
"The square formation change is too slow!" I shouted, holding a sandglass in one hand.
"Do you understand what changing formation means? Lives depend on it!"
These girls weren't fighting for some grand homeland or noble cause. Far from it. They had been pushed down by society since childhood, broken and distrustful. They feared fighting, feared injury.
That's why they struggled during training. I understood. But it couldn't be allowed to continue.
I raised my musket and stepped forward before the sluggish women's line infantry.
"Listen up. Guns are fairer than the world itself. Bullets don't care if you're noble or common, good or bad. They don't care if you're a man or a woman. If you get hit, you die."
I spoke honestly to these inexperienced soldiers, sharing the harsh truth I'd seen firsthand.
"If you're lucky and get hit in the head, you might not even realize what happened before you die. Shots to the neck or chest hurt intensely, but death comes quickly if you endure."
Wounded soldiers who bled out and cried for help only dragged down the morale of those around them. Since there was no way to save them anyway, I preferred quick deaths—headshots or neck shots. It was easier for everyone.
I once caught myself thinking like that, and it shook me. Human nature can wear down fast if you're not careful. If I ever became that cold, it would be the end of me. That's why I needed to say this now, while I still could.
"A direct hit to the arm means bleeding out and death, but if you're lucky, they might amputate and you can get discharged with a pension. Many don't survive the surgery, though, and infections often prove fatal afterward."
In this world, without anesthesia, blood transfusions, or disinfectants, medical care was primitive. Even minor wounds could kill.
"Abdominal shots are the worst. If your intestines get damaged, there's no hope. You'll writhe in agony for half a day before dying. Sometimes, you'll beg for death—and your comrades may ask you to end their suffering."
My musket was unreliable, but it could give a merciful final blow at close range. The relief of ending a comrade's pain was a feeling I hated every time.
"But the worst are leg wounds. You become immobile on the battlefield. If your side is winning, maybe you survive. But if you lose, you'll be surrounded and tortured to death. Since you're women, those horrible fates could happen to you too."
R*pe and assault on the battlefield were almost inevitable. Whether alive or dead, a fallen woman was vulnerable, and the soldiers around didn't care.
That's why Schweidel's military says, "Providing brothels is the officers' duty." It's to prevent worse troubles. Even during war, soldiers need some semblance of daily life, including sexual release.
I took off my cap and bowed my head in apology.
"I'm sorry if this offends you, but this is reality on the battlefield. And many will get shot in the legs—because the legs make up a large target area on the body."
Schweidel soldiers had Western-like body types, with long legs exposed.
"To ensure those shot in the legs survive, there is one absolutely necessary condition. Does anyone know what it is?"
The room was silent. Eventually, a female soldier raised her hand hesitantly.
"Staff officer?"
"Yes, go ahead."
"...That our side wins?"
"Exactly. You understand well." I nodded.
"If we win, there is no enemy to finish off the wounded. Your comrades will protect you, take you to the Regimental Surgeon. Even if you die, your dignity as a human is preserved."
I had experienced retreats and knew how hard it was to not leave the wounded behind. If transport took too long, many who could survive died. In desperate moments, we had to abandon them.
"That's why we must absolutely win while we fight."
Adjusting my cap, I fixed them with a serious gaze.
"Break formation, and you die. Delay changing formation, and you die. Even if you survive, your comrades die—and if your comrades die, you die too."
It's a leap in logic, but for now, they needed to grasp the importance of formation.
"All line infantry formations are designed to protect you. They've been tested and proven in battle. Trust the formation. Protect the formation."
Line infantry cannot fight without a line. Muskets fire only one shot.
"Neither you nor I can defeat a single wolf alone. Don't fight alone. Don't run alone. If you do, you will die."
This wasn't a threat—it was truth. Fear-driven desertion meant severe punishment. As an officer, I was tasked with executing deserters.
A soldier outside the army's protection had no chance of survival, caught between enemy and comrades alike. The fate of deserters was grim.
"But if you fight as one under your officers' command, nothing can defeat you. Not wolves, bears, or even cavalry. The line infantry is the strongest force on the ground."
I softened my voice and said the most important part.
"I said before, 'Guns do not discriminate between men and women.' Your guns are the same. The power of a bullet has nothing to do with the strength of the shooter. No matter how strong the enemy is, your bullets can bring them down."
I noticed their expressions growing more serious. Maybe my words reached their hearts. I hoped it lit a spark.
"The phalanx formation we're practicing now is a last-resort defense. With no cover, you become a living wall. To prevent attacks from behind, we protect each other in a square."
It sounded good in theory, but I hoped to never actually use it. I had no battle experience with the phalanx yet.
"Because of that, changing into a phalanx must be done quickly. Fail to master it, and the commander won't use it. That means losing a key survival option."
If that happened, we'd either scatter and flee or make a desperate bayonet charge. Either way, many would die.
I raised the hourglass.
"Complete the formation change before this runs out. If you do, you'll be able to form a phalanx in real combat. Your chances of survival increase—this I promise."
Several nodded silently. I returned the nod.
"There's much more to learn. Master everything, and as your Staff Officer, I will devise every possible strategy to protect you—not just to win, but to bring as many of you back alive as possible."
If commanders' interests conflict with the soldiers', the unit breaks. That's why I aligned both: "Win, and minimize sacrifice."
But the truth is, the best victory is one without fighting.
I said it plainly.
"The best outcome is to win without fighting, so no one has to die."
Hannah chimed in from the side.
"Second Lieutenant, is that really possible?"
"Stalemates happen often. If you want that, take the marching exercises seriously. If you get your formation set before the enemy and hold firm, they might retreat without a fight."
Winning without fighting is an ideal, but when the chance comes, I want to aim for it. It's easier that way.
"Now, if you understand, hurry up and practice changing to phalanx formation. We'll also train for gaps caused when allies fall. Once mastered, I'll ask Her Excellency's permission to distribute sugar."
The soldiers perked up.
"Sugar?"
"Yes. I believe the kitchen staff will prepare something for us."
Sugar was costly but abundant in the military. Nutritious, preservable, and coveted—making it valuable as a supply.
The company buzzed with excitement.
"I want amber candy!"
"Sweet white bread, lots of sugar!"
"Drink it in black tea!"
"Sprinkle it on fried bread!"
After tightening the mood, I couldn't help but relax at their enthusiasm.
"Hey! No sugar if you don't train seriously! Please, just take it seriously!"
"Yes!"
"Staff Officer, we can talk now!"
Don't get carried away—it's still the military. But I smiled quietly.
"Well then, I'll report to Brigade Commander Your Excellency. The training ground is visible from their office, so make sure to train hard."
"Yes!"
"Staff Officer, good luck!"
"Bring back some sugar!"
They were in a good mood indeed.
Notes:
• Hannah - Hannah Heiden. Female. A Corporal in the 6th Special Task Brigade. Her appearance is tall with broad shoulders and a reverse triangle athletic build. She has a confident and assertive demeanor. Her relationship with Second Lieutenant Krombelts is initially formal but becomes more respectful after recognizing his rank. She is strong and capable, easily carrying heavy luggage.