"Chaarrrgggeee!!!" A voice bellowed on the battlefield. It was followed up with the thundering sounds of cannons firing into the distance. Psshh! The ground replied after being smashed with the heavy iron balls. Within the dirt whipped out from the artillery, the thundering sounds of hooves gathered as the men readied their pistols. As the cavalry neared the pike and shot formation, the pikemen stood firm. As I charged near the rest of the cavalry, I pointed the pistol, took aim and fired. Pulling on the horse's reins, we quickly sped off as the rest of the men fired away into the formation. As I turned around to look back, I could see the arquebusiers aiming to retaliate. But my eyes quickly caught the attention of a specific individual of the backrow studying the battlefield in great detail. He's a blond fellow with little hair on his head, his hair choosing to concentrate on his chin. The way many gather around him, only to leave soon afterwards on horseback, clasping a message in their hands, shows that he is not some random soldier. I smiled as I saw the man who will be the stepping stone for my greatness in the early modern era. On these crossroads near Breitenfeld, I lay my eyes on him, Gustavus Adolphus.
I would love to say that, such a great introduction, but I'm unable to see him in person. All I see is a giant wall of men holding pikes with arquebusiers hiding amongst them, ready to return volley fire. So I turned around and urged the horse to hurry up. While I put out a stoic expression for my comrades to see, I was screaming internally. "NOooo, we have to do it seven times, and then we will eventually route!!!!" I would love to change the outcome of the battle I do, but I have to survive this volley first.
"Crack!" The thundering sounds of the arquebus roared among the battlefield. Being highly inaccurate compared to modern rifles, they could only be used in a volley if you want to hit anything. Thus, men who pulled out too late was caught in the volley, and they slumped on their horse, falling onto the ground. The unlucky ones whose horses were shot resulted them being tossed onto the ground. As some cavalrymen chose to rescue their comrades, I, however, decided to reload my pistol.
Tearing a package filled with gunpowder with my teeth, I carefully tried to pour it into the barrel. Of course, since I'm horseback, some of it flew onto my attire. Taking out the wooden stick lodged under the pistol, I quickly stuffed the compressed gunpowder into the barrel. I took out an iron ball from the paper cartridge and placed it into the gun. Taking the very same stick, I rammed it into the pistol. And the gun was fully loaded, but it took around a minute…
As I gazed around my surroundings, I joined my comrades who were reading to make a pass by the Swedish formation. The Swedish pikemen held steady, the gunners within them still reloading from the volley they fired. As I made a pass, I whipped out the pistol, fired and quickly rode away. Have I hit anyone? As mentioned, due to firearms' inaccuracies, the rounds are wildly inaccurate, which is why some argue that the Caracole is a rubbish tactic. The Caracole is basically what I'm doing, getting close, taking a shot, before running away. As I rode away, I could see a large amount of men routing in the far right of the formation. Our fellow brothers were causing the enemy to the route.
On the far right, I could see a messenger on a horse riding towards the army's centre. He was heading right for Johann Tserclaes, Count of Tilly. Tilly was the overall commander of chief of the military. Of course, I'm unable to spot him as well; I'm sure he's hiding behind a wall of men or something while I'm out of here risking my life.
A messenger was dispatched to our side, and one can easily see the look of joy on the messenger's face. The messenger quickly headed for the commander on the Imperial Left flank, Gottfried Heinrich Graf zu Pappenheim. Pappenheim quickly dispatched more messengers to the captain, Heinrich, who quickly bellowed to us.
"My fellow Curraissers! The Saxons have run away with their tails behind their backs! Victory is upon us!" Heinrich bellowed, resulting in cheers from the fellow Curraissers.
"Guess some things never change… Although If I remember correctly, some of the veteran Saxon forces would have stayed around. So is it a half-truth or a half-lie?"
We began lining ourselves up for another pass at the Swedish forces. As the horses' hooves thundered the ground, I checked my pistol to ensure it is still working. As the cavalrymen opened fire into the Swedish, I could see the gaps within the wall of pikes. The cracks were filled with the barrels of arquebusiers ready to fire on command. As I fired, I quickly spurred my horse to flee as soon as possible.
"30 yards… 50 yards… I should be saved around here unless some lucky f*cker could get a shot on me." I quickly began reloading the pistol.
"Crack!" Thunderous roars cried out throughout the Swedish left flank as the arquebusiers open fired onto the horsemen. Many other brothers fell as well to that Swedish counterattack. The thundering sounds of foreign hooves immediately caught my attention. What looked like a wall of pikes revealed Swedish cavalrymen charging outwards, catching tons of our men by surprise. They were dressed in a dark blue garment, with yellow stripes crisscrossing the garments. It was as if they were donning the Swedish flags on themselves. They held swords in their hands and charged ahead to cut them down.
"Those outdated Swedish bastards, still using head-on cavalry charges!" Someone within the company decried. However my fellow Imperial Catholics frame it, the Swedish methods were indeed successful, cutting down many of the cuirassiers who were too slow.
I find it ironic that my fellow cavalrymen were calling head-on cavalry charges outdated even though their noble ancestors probably used it constantly. Their motto was probably "Head on Cavalry charges is justice! Guns were for peasants!" And look where we are now, using the guns meant for "peasants". And yes, I'm part of the nobility if you can't tell. Of course, cavalrymen were for the elite only, and I have divine blood right!
Divine blood, right or not, would save the others form being cut mauled by the ruthless Swedish. After hunting their prey, the cavalry hunters quickly rushed back into formation, where the arquebusiers were reloading their muskets. And I think I forget to mention something. Did I mention that the battlefield was kind of reminiscent of World War 1, with artillery blasting the ground all around us? And every shot fired by our side, four or five shots were returned by the Swedish! So while I'm trying to reload my damn pistol, balls were blasting up dirt all around me like some action movie. Of course, the men who were caught up in the fire died gruesome deaths. Having their bones and fleshed meshed together into stew by the iron balls, and cries of pain could be heard throughout the field. All could smell the smell of gunpowder in the air with the slight tinge of iron from blood as the wind blew the scent. Honestly, I wanted to get the hell out of here, but well, I'm planning to achieve greatness in this era, so how can I run away from this opportunity!
The Germans have two words that I feel perfectly described to me. Rgheiz and Ruhmsucht. They are known as greed for honour as well as hankering after glory. From my youth, all I have ever known was to study in academics. My other past time was reading books. Out of all the books that caught my eye, politics and war caught my attention the most. Stories of men who went through hell, with great generals coming out with plans that changed the war's entire trajectory coming out with great victories. Generals who could beat armies twice their size, no, even ten times their size. I voraciously devoured all the books that detailed these battles. While reading, I would always imagine being one of the many great generals, coming up with strategies and outmanoeuvre my opponents to victory. In sharp contrast to reality, in the safe, secure society I was in, everyone looked down on the military. The military was where men who lacked potential go, men who were not destined to be great, went. Men who climbed up to the top as generals would then secure positions of power as ministers of transportation due to their perceived management ability.
But as Helmuth von Moltke once said, "No Battle Plan Survives Contact With the Enemy". And the public's perception of transportation has decreased due to the increase in transportation breakdowns. These generals had no battle experience, leading to many calling them paper generals. Most of them were scholars who had performed well academically, receiving scholarships from the government to be bonded to the military after their studies. While there is little evidence to refute this, there would be no chance to achieve my glory in this meritocratic society. And whilst in my mind, I imagined that I would be one of those lucky few to become renown heroes on the battlefield. I also knew rationally that, highly likely, my body would also be the first one to fall on the battlefield. So I stuffed these thoughts into my mind while childishly constantly dreaming of the many battlefield accomplishments I could achieve.
One day I fell asleep; the new thing I knew, I saw two Europeans right in front of me. However, a male and a female, I noticed a rather elderly looking woman by their side who was heaving a sigh of relief.
"Huh…" I tried to say, but the words that came out were baby talk. The female grabbed me and whispered sweet whisperings into my ear, and I could do nothing. As I gave dumbfounded looks, the male and female Europeans gave some happy reactions and spoke a foreign language that I've never heard before.
Yes, it looks like I have been reincarnated into another world. Oh wow, so original. Pat, the author on the back for creativity, an absolute creative masterpiece. I've never seen this before. I totally did not rip this off Mushoku Tensei.
As I gazed at my tiny hands, the woman brought me closer to her. As I studied my surroundings, we were in a relatively well-decorated bedroom. It was not too flashy, a double bed with a plain-looking mattress with curtains overhead that don't look too expensive. They were rather plain. It seems I was possibly birthed by someone who was nobles who weren't too wealthy or by the merchant class.
At that time, I thought I had a somewhat crazy dream. I'm not an expert in lucid dreaming, plus I find just rolling with the dream interesting, even if it's a nightmare.
But then the woman "accidentally" let go of me, and I fell into her lap. While getting my face slammed into a woman's lap would be some men's aspirations, alas, I was only a weak child, and IT F*CKING HURTS!!!
I started my bawling my eyes out instinctively, and I was trying to scream my favourite words, "F*ck you, f*ck you! I hope you f*cking die!!" But all that came out was the wails of a crying baby.
The rather elderly woman quickly took control of the situation of promptly picked me up and rocked me about. I can tell she was very experienced at rocking babies but considering the vast age disparity between her and the others in the room, and I can only assume she was the nursemaid. Somehow her rock and roll skills were so good that I went back into the empty dark abyss.
Sleep, for me, is a scary thing. It happens so suddenly. I'm staring at the ceiling in the dark; the next thing I knew, it's tomorrow morning. And just as I prepared to get out of bed and go to school, I felt I was being sandwiched between two people. As I gazed about, it was the very same two Europeans! And that b*tch who dropped me was on the left! It looks like this isn't just some dream after all…