Chapter 396: Publicly Funded Team-Building Activity in Vienna |
Morin ordered everyone to draw the curtains again, and then watched the soldiers surrounding the train through the gaps.
Kleist, Manstein, and the others also noticed the soldiers approaching from other platforms.
They quickly realized something was wrong because these Austro-Hungarian soldiers and rifle-toting police were clearly forming a semi-circle in a combat posture.
If this were a normal arrival at a station, it should be the station staff coming up, not a large group of armed soldiers—even if they were wearing allied uniforms.
“Austro-Hungarian uniforms, holding rifles, and those police in cylinder hats. They don’t look very friendly…”
Kleist leaned by the window on the other side, a hint of disbelief in his tone: “Is this our ally’s hospitality?”
“That is, assuming they are still allies…”
Morin replied, while three possibilities flashed through his mind at light speed.
First, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Saxon Empire had a falling out, turning from allies into enemies.
Third, internal problems had occurred within the Austro-Hungarian Empire, such as a coup.
Morin felt the first scenario was unlikely. After all, relations between the two countries weren’t bad currently, and the Saxons had been transferring combat troops to the Austro-Hungarian front lines recently.
There were even Austro-Hungarian officers coordinating in Dresden just the day before.
As for the second scenario…
Given the abysmal combat power of the Austro-Hungarian armed forces, it wasn’t impossible.
The third scenario was even more likely.
Anyone with a slight understanding of Europa nations knew how severe the ethnic and class contradictions within the Austro-Hungarian Empire were.
So if a coup had occurred, Morin wouldn’t be surprised.
But regardless of which scenario it was, it was not good news for Morin and his men.
While thinking rapidly, Morin also glanced at the [Intelligence] tab to see if his “cheat” had any updates.
He indeed found a refreshed piece of information:
[A military coup is currently taking place in Vienna]
The fewer the words, the bigger the matter…
Although this piece of intelligence lacked detail, it was enough for Morin.
A coup had actually f*cking happened in Vienna.
Although it was currently unclear who initiated the coup, and it was obviously impossible to contact anyone else in the short term, Morin was never one to sit and wait for death.
Moreover, judging from the unit cards on the system map, the enemy only had one platoon of infantry plus 64 armed police. Neither the quantity nor the quality was high.
So he decided to use his own methods to find out what exactly had happened.
“Regardless of who is outside or what they want to do, since they are pointing guns at us, they are enemies.”
Morin’s tone was terrifyingly calm. He turned to look at everyone in the same carriage as him—regimental headquarters officers, and a group of competition elites from the regimental direct-reporting units.
“Pass down the order: Everyone, prepare for combat.”
“Also… Kleist, fetch my double-barreled shotgun.”
“Yes, sir!”
Morin’s order was quickly relayed through the three adjacent passenger cars via messengers.
Except for the quicker-reacting regimental headquarters officers, the “competition winners” in the carriages still didn’t know what was happening.
But their long service in the instruction unit had long brought them to the point of unconditional obedience to Morin’s orders.
These soldiers demonstrated astonishing tactical discipline. There was no loud clamor, no panicked footsteps, only the crisp metallic clinks of bolts racking and the soft rustle of equipment shifting.
Aside from the regimental artillerymen who used P08 Artillery model pistols, the signalmen and combat engineers were equipped with rifles and submachine guns.
Over a dozen combat engineers even donned their enchanted cuirasses—the enchanted breastplates captured from Gallic cuirassiers. Apart from a small number given to other units for study, most had been distributed to the instruction unit.
“Commander, they are approaching,” a combat engineer responsible for observation reported in a low voice.
The approaching Austro-Hungarian soldiers and police clearly lacked experience in dealing with such sudden situations.
Although they held their guns, their formation was loose.
A few were even whispering to each other, seemingly discussing what valuable treasures might be loaded on the train.
Morin nodded, then instructed the others: “Leave three or four combat engineers and signalmen each in the passenger cars. The rest disembark from the other side, use the train cars as cover, and flank towards the front and rear of the train while simultaneously opening the boxcars from the other side… The others guard the windows. Use gunshots as the signal to attack.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Ludwig, you guys hold your positions for now. We shouldn’t need the Armored Knights just yet.”
On the platform outside the train.
Czech Captain Simon, ordered to control the Vienna Westbahnhof, and his clueless subordinates were obviously growing impatient.
The train had been stopped for almost five minutes, yet there was no movement from inside, nor did anyone disembark.
This was clearly abnormal. Even smugglers, upon seeing soldiers and police, should have come down by now to offer cigarettes and bribes.
“Someone go open the door!”
Simon waved his hand, pointing at the carriage closest to him.
A young Czech soldier slung his rifle over his back, pulled out a universal triangular key taken from a depot worker, and swaggered over.
He was still calculating in his mind that if this car held the family of some grand noble, he might be able to pilfer some jewelry.
Click.
The door lock was opened, and the soldier forcefully pulled open the heavy iron door.
The greedy smile on his face froze before it could even fully form.
Inside the carriage, there were no panicked noblewomen, nor mountains of smuggled tobacco and alcohol.
There was only a burly man wearing an enchanted cuirass shimmering with faint blue light, holding an MP14 submachine gun, looking at him coldly.
That dark muzzle was pointing right at his chest.
“Ah—!”
The soldier screamed subconsciously, instinctively reaching for the rifle on his back.
But this movement became the last mistake he would ever make in his life.
“Da-da-da!”
Seeing the other’s movement and confirming hostile intent, the combat engineer guarding the door opened fire directly.
Those in the passenger cars were all competition winners, and the instruction unit’s “competitions” were in most cases comprehensive.
They tested not only professional technical skills but also basic combat skills.
Therefore, this combat engineer’s shooting skills were actually on par with the veterans of the 1st Company.
Under his control, the three-round burst traveled upwards from the chest, hitting the target squarely in the face.
The Austro-Hungarian soldier instantly fell, blood splattering onto the concrete platform.
The gunshot was the signal.
“Fire!”
With a roar, the previously tightly drawn curtains were violently thrown open.
The submachine guns equipped by the instruction unit demonstrated terrifying close-range suppressive firepower at this moment.
The dense hail of bullets acted like invisible scythes, sweeping across the open platform.
Although Morin only had soldiers from the regimental headquarters and direct-reporting units around him.
But do not forget, within the instruction unit, even staff officers not adept at running, like Manstein, had to pass physical fitness and shooting assessments.
Thus, the regimental headquarters soldiers were equally an elite force compared to other units.
Those Czech soldiers and police still standing dazed on the platform were instantly mowed down in droves like harvested wheat.
The reaction of the survivors under attack wasn’t to shoot back at the carriages, but to hit the deck directly.
Some even ran directly towards the rear, but because they were too conspicuous, they were taken down by riflemen.
Blood stained the platform. Screams and gunfire intertwined, shattering the tranquility of the Vienna morning.
“Take cover! Take cover quickly!”
Captain Simon was scared out of his wits, scrambling and crawling behind a steel support pillar.
He never imagined that what he thought was a train full of “fat sheep” was actually a pack of wolves in sheep’s clothing!
“Counterattack! Counterattack!” he roared hysterically, trying to organize resistance, but it was completely futile.
Simultaneously with the frontal suppressive fire, the instruction unit soldiers who had flanked from the back of the train appeared on both sides of the platform.
On one side was an elite force baptized by war and equipped with epoch-crossing weapons; on the other was a hastily assembled ragtag group of rebels and police only looking for a quick buck.
There was no suspense in the outcome of the battle. The instruction unit soldiers didn’t even use throwables, ending the fight in less than a minute of exchanging fire.
And the four “plate armor supermen” of the general’s guard unit around Morin didn’t even get a chance to deploy.
When the last few police officers attempting to flee were precisely shot dead at the stairwell, the Austro-Hungarian soldiers and armed police who luckily survived the first volley threw down their weapons without a second thought and raised their hands in surrender.
Leaving only a floor littered with shell casings and twitching corpses.
The instruction unit soldiers quickly took control of the situation and disarmed the surrendered enemies.
After dispatching a platoon of combat engineers and half a platoon of signalmen to search the interior of the station, Morin and the regimental headquarters officers stepped over the shattered glass and bloodstains, walking up to the shivering Czech captain hiding behind the pillar.
A few instruction unit soldiers dragged Simon out and forced him to stand steady.
At this time, Captain Simon had completely lost the commanding majesty from before. His military cap was missing, his hair was messy, and his reasonably well-tailored Austro-Hungarian uniform was covered in dust and others’ blood.
Kleist held a notebook, standing in front of Simon, and asked in standard Saxon: “Name, rank, unit designation, and why did you attack us?”
Simon looked up, his eyes darting around, and spouted a string of a language everyone couldn’t understand.
He spoke very fast, with a heavy accent, and a highly agitated expression, seemingly protesting something, or perhaps playing dumb.
Kleist frowned, turning to look at Manstein and Paulus, who were also looking at each other in dismay.
Although as elite officers of the Saxon Imperial Army, they somewhat knew a bit of foreign languages—such as Gallic or Britannian.
But a relatively niche language like Czech was obviously not within their skill tree.
“What is he saying?” Manstein frowned. “Why does it sound like he’s swearing?”
Paulus shrugged, saying somewhat helplessly: “This guy is playing dumb. He definitely understands Saxon.”
In this Empire cobbled together by two main ethnicities and a bunch of ethnic minorities, Saxon was the lingua franca of the Austro-Hungarian Army. A captain-level officer unable to understand Saxon?
Who was he trying to fool?
Just then, Morin, who had been observing from the side, walked over.
“Since you can’t understand words, let’s communicate another way.”
He walked directly up to this Czech captain and rattled off a sentence.
Although Kleist and the others were somewhat surprised, they had long known their commander was a multilingual genius, so they weren’t too shocked.
But the captured Czech captain was shocked, because he understood what Morin said: “Tell me your name, unit designation, rank… and what are you doing at the train station?!”
Captain Simon’s pupils dilated instantly, as if he had seen a ghost.
He never imagined that among this group of fierce-looking Saxons, someone actually knew Czech!
Of course, the reason Morin knew Czech was very simple…
Bohemia was known for its beautiful and passionate women. When the former “playboy Morin” came to Vienna for vacation, in order to communicate deeply with the Czech maids here, he forced himself to crash-course Czech.
Captain Simon had recovered from his shock by now, but he was still unwilling to say much, his gaze shifting evasively.
“I am an officer of the Austro-Hungarian Empire! I have the right to remain silent! This is military classified information!”
He shouted in Czech, stuttering nervously, trying to cover up his inner fear this way.
Hearing his words, Morin smiled but said nothing.
Actually, he had already figured out the unit designation of these enemies before him through the unit cards on the system map.
However, he needed to use this question to pry open this officer’s mouth, so he could then extract more intelligence from him.
Morin raised his hand, taking a pistol confiscated from Captain Simon from an instruction unit soldier.
It was a Gasser M1898 revolver, the standard sidearm for Austro-Hungarian officers.
The design of this pistol was very interesting; its loading gate and ejector rod structure were unique, full of the whimsical ideas of mechanics of that era.
Morin played with the hefty pistol, and then, under everyone’s bewildered gazes, skillfully opened the loading gate and operated the ejector rod.
Clink, clink, clink…
During this process, Morin ignored Captain Simon, who kept chattering. Anyway, he just stayed silent, playing the “master.”
The brass-colored bullets fell onto the platform one after another, making crisp sounds.
Until only the last bullet remained in the cylinder.
The unique design of the Gasser M1898 revolver meant that when the loading gate was open, even pulling the trigger would only rotate the cylinder without releasing the hammer.
So Morin just pulled the trigger a few times consecutively, rotating the cylinder, and then abruptly snapped the loading gate shut.
Click.
This soft sound was exceptionally harsh on the dead-silent platform.
Simon’s face instantly turned deathly pale. He instantly guessed what this Saxon madman wanted to do, and simultaneously realized he had failed to keep track of how many times the other had pulled the trigger just now.
“No… you can’t… According to the Geneva Conventions…”
Morin ignored him completely, grabbed him by the hair, forced him to look up, and shoved the cold muzzle directly into his mouth.
The sensation of metal against teeth made Simon shudder all over, and the smell of urine instantly spread from his crotch.
“Eight chambers, one bullet. Tell me your name, unit designation, rank… and what are you doing at the train station?!”
Morin said viciously in Czech.
And Captain Simon was clearly terrified. For a moment he didn’t speak, only whimpering continuously.
Without further nonsense, Morin’s thumb pulled back the hammer, and then his index finger directly pulled the trigger.
Click!
The hammer fell heavily, but there was no roar of gunpowder igniting.
It was an empty chamber.
Simon convulsed violently. His heart almost stopped beating at that instant, and cold sweat instantly soaked his entire body.
The surrounding Kleist and others also jolted. They didn’t expect Morin to pull the trigger so decisively. If there had been a bullet in that chamber, this Czech officer’s head would have exploded.
“Lucky you.”
A devilish smile appeared on Morin’s face, but he didn’t remove the gun.
“Then, next is a one-in-seven probability.”
He pulled the hammer back again.
The sound of the mechanical structure turning was simply the countdown of the Grim Reaper in Simon’s ears.
“No… mmm… mmm…” Simon shook his head desperately, his face covered in tears and snot.
Click!
Another empty click.
This time, Simon’s legs gave out completely. If it weren’t for two instruction unit soldiers holding him up, he probably would have collapsed to the ground.
“It seems God is really favoring you today.”
Morin, like an emotionless machine, continued to repeat that suffocating action.
Pull back the hammer.
Pull the trigger.
Click! Third shot.
Click! Fourth shot.
Four consecutive empty shots.
“Wow, looks like you’re about to hit the jackpot.”
Morin pulled back the hammer again, this time very slowly.
So slowly that Simon could clearly hear every detail of the cylinder rotating into place and the hammer sear locking.
“Mmm… mmm I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”
Simon finally broke down.
The terror of death lingering on his lips completely shattered his fragile psychological defenses.
National righteousness, military secrets, all became worthless at this moment.
Morin didn’t immediately withdraw the gun, but maintained that posture, staring at him with an abyssal gaze.
“Think clearly before you speak. My patience is very limited, and… sometimes my finger doesn’t listen to me.”
Captain Simon nodded his head like a chicken pecking at rice, and Morin slowly withdrew the muzzle.
“I am Captain Simon, 2nd Platoon, 1st Company, 2nd Battalion, 35th Bohemian Infantry Regiment!”
This time, Simon used standard Saxon, speaking as fast as a machine gun, terrified his head would blow up if he was one word too slow.
“We are executing the mission to control the railway station! These are Mr. Masaryk’s orders!”
“The main force of our regiment is attacking the palace and the barracks! The entire city of Vienna is staging a coup!”
Captain Simon spilled all the information he knew just like that, including the scheduled operation times, which units were controlling which areas, etc…
Morin nodded in satisfaction, handed the revolver to the soldier beside him, then turned to look at Kleist and the others.
“See, language barriers, as long as you find the right communication method, are actually very easy to resolve.”
“Commander, I think it might be because you kept the muzzle stuffed in his mouth… When you pulled the trigger the second time, he looked like he already wanted to talk.”
“…”
Morin glared grumpily at Manstein for spoiling the act, then his expression instantly became serious.
“Alright, gentlemen… the game is over.”
“The 35th Bohemian Infantry Regiment, Masaryk… It sounds like the Czechs are launching a coup, targeting the palace and barracks… We are the ones who truly hit the jackpot.”
Glancing down at his watch, Morin continued.
“It’s 5:40 AM now. Meaning, the coup has been underway for over an hour.”
“If we don’t want to be trapped and die in this station, or wait for those rebels to free up their hands to deal with us… then we must do something.”
Right at this moment, the combat engineers and signalmen who went to check the situation inside the station sent a soldier running back.
“Commander, all communications inside the station have been cut. We can’t contact the outside world.”
“Wired telephones, telegraphs, all gone?”
“Yes, Commander! The lines have been cut.” The soldier pointed toward the dispatch room. “We just went to check. The main trunk line was chopped with an axe.”
To be honest, Morin was not surprised.
Since it was a meticulously planned coup, cutting communications was definitely the first step.
It was just that this also left him and the soldiers with him stranded on an isolated island.
Although the regimental communications company carried large radios that could be set up and used, the problem was Morin couldn’t think of anyone to transmit to in the short term.
“Commander, how do we proceed?”
Manstein walked up to Morin and asked. In this situation, Morin was everyone’s backbone.
So only after he provided a general direction would Manstein and the others begin staff work along that line.
“Don’t panic. Send out observation posts to monitor the situation around the train station first… then ask the conductor if this train can still run. Honestly I’m so pissed, why did they transport me here of all places.”
Morin complained with a few curses, then began discussing with Manstein and the others.
From Captain Simon, they learned that there might be nearly a regiment’s worth of troops launching a coup in Vienna.
And judging from the targets chosen by the enemy, this was a meticulously planned operation.
At the same time, the information refreshed in the [Intelligence] interface also reminded Morin that Britannians were involved behind the scenes.
If Morin currently had the entire, fully equipped instruction unit by his side, he wouldn’t panic at all, and might even find it a bit amusing.
But the problem was, he currently only had a regimental headquarters and a few direct-reporting units with him. It could only be said to be a mix of joy and sorrow.
The bad news was that his current troop configuration was rather deformed.
Those who could be used as infantry were only two platoons of combat engineers, one platoon of messengers under the communications company, followed by the regimental guard platoon, military police, and four “plate armor supermen.”
There was originally a supply company that could scrape together some combat troops, but because this military train couldn’t transport that many trucks, the supply company was transported with other units and hadn’t come along.
But the good news was, he actually had quite a lot of heavy equipment on hand.
The regimental combat engineer company, besides those two platoons of combat engineers, also had a “super-sized” 170mm mortar platoon (6 tubes).
And the regimental artillery company, exactly in a phase of equipment transition, possessed 3 77mm field guns and 3 “RAK 15” 50mm high-muzzle-velocity anti-armor guns.
Finally, and most importantly, were Ludwig’s three modified “Siegfried Mark 1” Armored Knights, and six knight squires.
Hearing this, Manstein frowned: “Commander, it’s not like we can’t fight… it’s just going to be relatively difficult.”
“Yes, so if we are forced to intervene next, there are three targets that are more important…”
Morin thought for a moment, then spoke: “First, we must find a way to get some reinforcements. The coup forces couldn’t possibly have killed all the city’s garrison and Imperial Guards directly; it’s highly likely they captured them… So we can consider rescuing these people first and rearming them.”
“Secondly, we need to find a way to take down the General Telegraph Office and the Central Telephone Exchange. We must get the news out and have the troops near Vienna come to the monarch’s rescue.”
“Lastly, we must rescue Franz I… or recapture the Army General Staff to let our allies in the Austro-Hungarian Empire take charge again. Otherwise, once the rebels discover our presence and pin the blame on us, we’re done for.”
“That sounds… indeed quite difficult.”
Paulus pinched his chin. This normally calm officer rarely frowned.
“Sigh, since we’re already here…”
Morin clapped his hands, focusing everyone’s attention on him.
“Since fate has placed us in Vienna at this point in time… then we have to do something…”
“Unload the train! Enter the city to ‘rescue the Emperor’!”