The sultry, sticky, and unpleasant heat of the season had passed.
During this time, the 8th Paratrooper Infantry Battalion had achieved quite remarkable changes.
One of the most notable changes was the alteration in the soldiers’ uniforms. Unlike the dull khaki combat uniforms, their new attire was a vivid red that could be seen from afar.
With a pair of eagles embroidered on their chests and a peaked cap on their heads.
Added to that were the capitalized letters ‘AIR BORNE,’ making them look as if they had just returned from hell.
Sergeant Rick Hanson felt his chest swell with pride as he saw his reflection in the mirror.
It was said that this idea was conceived by the battalion commander to boost morale among the troops and completely crush the spirit of the new recruits.
One could say that whoever snatched the battalion commander’s position within a few months of being commissioned must be a person of extraordinary intellect.
Who could possibly walk with their shoulders drooping while wearing this uniform?
Even administrative soldier Eric, who always stretched his neck like a turtle, now held his head high and wielded his pen vigorously.
A red-clad administrative man.
For the first time, he felt like a magic trick had changed him just by changing clothes.
The new recruits wouldn’t even recognize them at first glance.
Just as Rick Hanson was basking in his own grandeur,
“Sergeant Hanson? The battalion commander wants you to assemble.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rick put on his red hat firmly and walked out of the barracks with a firm step in response to his subordinate’s call.
As he approached the barracks where the First Platoon members lived, he saw others dressed in the same red uniforms as himself gathered there.
They were the sergeants and soldiers assigned to oversee the parachute training and combat education for the new recruits of this batch.
“All personnel have assembled, including Sergeant Hanson.”
“Good, we’re the last ones. Other platoons are already having a great time drilling the new recruits in the training ground. They’ll be arriving soon, so we should start moving.”
Lieutenant Nikolai Hilbert, Rick Hanson’s direct superior and the commander of the First Platoon, spoke. Unlike Rick, he was clad entirely in black from head to toe.
If they were drill instructors, then Lieutenant Nikolai Hilbert was the training officer.
While the crimson uniform was undoubtedly splendid like the sun, the all-black attire was equally impressive.
The overwhelming presence was no joke.
Although he was a battalion commander and they often crossed paths, now he seemed like a completely different person, both in expression and posture.
“Everyone, remember this. Our mission is to turn them into perfect members of the 8th Paratrooper Infantry Battalion. If these new recruits fail in battle, it will be our responsibility. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“Then, First Platoon, forward!”
At Lieutenant Nikolai’s command, the red devils in two lines began to slowly flow forward.
“No, what could there possibly be in such a backwater village?”
“That’s a tavern… That’s an inn… That’s a restaurant… And that’s a card game hall?”
“Wait, everything is here?”
“But where are the barracks? I can’t see them.”
The village of Stout, almost directly adjacent to the grounds of the 8th Paratrooper Infantry Battalion’s barracks.
Dozens of soldiers, carrying tattered bags, were turning their heads like meerkats where a cart had just passed through.
Surely, they had joined the Special Response Brigade, a direct unit of the Crown Prince, not the Central Corps.
Why were they dropped in this backwater village, which consisted only of a small town and farmland?
When he asked the soldiers who had transported them here, they shrugged their shoulders and looked clueless.
There was nothing to understand.
“Hey, even though this is a backwater, the girls here are pretty. They keep looking at me…”
“Are you kidding? You think those looks are seductive? They seem more pitying than anything else.”
“You feel the same way? I don’t.”
Ignoring the fact that they had been unexpectedly dropped in a rural area, there was something eerie about this village.
Soldiers with quick reflexes sensed that something was wrong, but it was too late to turn back.
“Where do you come from?”
“From the northwest. I heard I could get promoted here, so I came.”
“James… Sergeant? Were you a non-commissioned officer?”
“Yes, I’ve been stuck as a sergeant for about three years. It doesn’t matter if you treat me casually. After all, we’ll be living together from now on—”
“Hold on, what’s that?”
People turned their heads in unison at someone’s exclamation. A red army marching down the main street of the village.
The faces of the chattering soldiers instantly hardened like stone.
The red army quickly advanced, surrounding the soldiers in a circle in the blink of an eye. There were roughly twenty of them.
“What… What are you?!”
“From now on, all answers should be given in ‘Danaka.’ Do you understand?”
“What kind of nonsense is this…”
A soldier who had been carefree up until now glared and approached the man in black at the front.
And then—
BANG!
His head slammed helplessly onto the ground.
“Gah!!”
He hadn’t used any magic. Despite being a formidable soldier, he stumbled, spun in mid-air, and rolled on the ground.
To make matters worse, a light flick of his fingers left the fallen soldier struggling on the ground, unable to rise.
An upper-level yellow spell, Ground Statue.
It fixed the part touching the ground, immobilizing the soldier who had recklessly charged in.
“A… A mage.”
“Were you a soldier?”
“Hello, everyone. I am the elf of hell training. The time limit is 24 hours. Good luck.”
“Run, you d*mn fools!”
The men in red uniforms roared simultaneously, causing the high-pitched sound to ring in their ears. Panic-stricken, they threw down their bags and started running into the inner part of the village.
“You are dismissed. Those who don’t know their opponents and still act recklessly need harsher training.”
Nikolai Hilbert spoke as he looked at the soldier lying on the ground, a faint smile of malice appearing on his face.
The soldier felt that he had finally arrived in hell.
“Move faster! Don’t you move!”
“Hey, you brats! My grandmother could run faster than this!”
“Ah! Sorry!”
This was the second round of the exercise for the Second Platoon.
“You are dismissed! Do PT 8 number 15 times!”
“Yes, Sir!”
“How many times?”
“15 times!”
“Your voice is too low. Again, do PT 8 number 20 times!”
“Yes, Sir!”
The Third Platoon was conducting PT with soldiers lying down, instilling fear.
“This is called ‘battlefield circuit training.’ It’s the special sauce of the battalion commander to turn you into combat-ready soldiers.”
The First Platoon was also showing off various grueling physical exercises, including sprinting with full gear, bear crawls, and tire runs.
It didn’t take long for the quiet barracks area to be filled with groans of pain and desperate shouts.
It was the highly anticipated first day of training.
Indeed, extreme training is best when started immediately upon arrival.
I was watching the training ground from a surveillance tower near the hangar.
“…Is this right?”
“Of course, Lumina. The captain is also running, so the feeling is a bit different, isn’t it?”
“…But…”
My adjutant Lumina added with a worried tone.
This was known as the Enok Revendale Special Course, a rigorous training program designed to transform naive recruits into elite paratroopers.
At the age of twenty-four, I had served in the military for eight years until I turned thirty-two.
I had been through training camps and knew how these trainings were conducted.
Moreover, the curriculum at the Okhraine training camp was garbage.
No, even basic drills are fine, but teaching how to sh**t a g*n in a drill? What’s the point?
Okhraine’s military training hadn’t yet moved away from the doctrine of the era of linear infantry.
Even if other countries might not be much different now, setting the Soviev Empire as the primary enemy meant that outdated doctrines needed to be eradicated from every soldier’s mind.
Soon, machine guns would appear across the sea. With this kind of training, they’re nothing more than live targets.
“How is it going?”
“Oh, glory to my country.”
I saluted, and Chief of Staff Joseph added lightly.
“The staff officers are in a frenzy. They want to drill the kids themselves.”
“It’s unfortunate, but there’s nothing we can do.”
“So I told them to thank you for just giving them the drill instructor uniforms.”
Joseph chuckled. The staff officers were merely support units, and it was highly inefficient for support unit personnel to train combat units.
If they were upset, they should have gone to the combat units, right?
Furthermore, the staff officers were busy overhauling all systems, including the reporting system, and had been working overtime for days.
And if they were asked to lead the training, they might as well report to the Labor Department.
Of course, there is no Labor Department in this world. Even if they wanted to push us to the limit, why bother?
I am a battalion commander, not a slave owner somewhere.
“Anyway, since we’ve tightened the schedule to a two-month course, we can expect it to be completed by the time the weather turns chilly.”
Joseph nodded in agreement.
“We should hope that no missions are assigned to the combat units within that time.”
“Indeed. Ideally, it would have been better if it were after November…”
Parachute training isn’t something that can be done in just one or two attempts. Given that battalion members had performed up to six jumps in a single day, they planned to conduct daily parachute drops once the basic physical fitness was established.
“Now that anyone can perform a parachute drop, not just mages.”
“All initial production tests are complete, so now we just need to ramp up production.”
“We can only hope that the Research and Development Department and the Armament Department do well.”
“Well, they should. And now, it’s time to make the new recruits understand why they are going through this.”
I rang the bell installed on the surveillance tower. The loud metallic noise covered the entire training ground, causing the soldiers in the midst of training to turn their heads toward me.
Although we didn’t have microphones or speakers, there was no need to speak unnecessarily.
Behind me, a dirigible rose and cast a huge shadow over the training ground, blocking the sunlight.
Though far away, I could tell that the expressions of the new recruits were filled with shock.
“Lumina, give the signal.”
“Yes, Sir!”
At my command, Lumina vigorously waved the flag she had tucked in her pocket.
The rear door of the dirigible slowly opened, and the experts I personally selected for parachuting jumped into the air without hesitation.
Watch closely, youngsters.
This is what you will be doing from now on.
