Chapter 24 - 24: A Day in Verdun

Words : 1096 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

The Verdun barracks was full of activity as usual early morning. Moreau was already awake by 0530 hours, not out of obligation but by habit. The army had a way of molding men into its schedule, and even without orders pressing down on him, he was conditioned to wake with the sun. He stepped outside into the crisp morning air, stretching slightly as he took in the surroundings. The sky was a pale blue. A few non-commissioned officers were already making their rounds, checking the men and ensuring discipline was upheld. The younger recruits, still adjusting to the regimented life, moved with a sluggishness that betrayed their lack of sleep. Moreau exhaled and shook his head. The army never changed. He turned toward the command office. If today was like any other, it would be filled with paperwork, reports, and an endless chain of administrative tasks. Inside, the office smelled of aged paper, stale tobacco, and the faint scent of old ink. The wooden desks were arranged in neat rows, though most were already occupied by clerks and junior officers hunched over their assignments. At the far end, sitting behind a cluttered desk buried under folders, was Renaud. And from the look on his face, he was already losing his patience. Moreau smirked as he approached. "I see you're in hell." Renaud grunted, not looking up. "If I die, make sure they write 'Death by Paperwork' on my grave." Moreau chuckled and pulled out a chair, scanning the pile of reports. It was the usual mess maintenance records, supply requests, training evaluations, and disciplinary notices. "Anything interesting?" Moreau asked, flipping through a document. Renaud snorted. "That depends on what you define as 'interesting.' If you enjoy fuel consumption reports and requisition requests, then today is thrilling." Moreau picked up one of the files. Tank fuel allocations for the next two weeks. He scanned the numbers, his expression shifting slightly. "This isn't right," he muttered. Renaud sighed, rubbing his face. "I thought the same thing. We were supposed to get an additional shipment of diesel last week, but it never arrived." Moreau frowned. "Where the hell did it go?" "Some bureaucrat in logistics probably decided another unit needed it more," Renaud replied. "Or they're stockpiling reserves somewhere for 'emergency use.'" seaʀᴄh thё nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Moreau exhaled sharply. France's military was already stretched thin, and while its officers planned for static defense, they were ignoring the fact that tanks required fuel, parts, and constant maintenance. Moreau grabbed a pen and scrawled a note. "I'll bring it up with Perrin. If we can't even run proper training exercises, this whole operation is pointless." Renaud smirked. "Ah, the Capitaine Moreau way break the chain of command until someone gives you what you want." Moreau grinned. "It works, doesn't it?" Renaud chuckled, shaking his head. "Just don't get sent to Paris again." By 0800 hours, the barracks had settled into its usual rhythm. The morning drills had begun, and Moreau and Renaud made their way to the training grounds, where rows of young soldiers were lined up, running through their rifle drills. Sergeants barked orders, correcting posture, adjusting grips, ensuring discipline was maintained. Moreau stood back, watching. Line up. Shoulder arms. Fire. Reload. Fire again. His gaze shifted toward the tank crews, who were preparing for a new round of field exercises. The Renault and Somua S35s stood in their designated areas, mechanics making final checks while commanders reviewed their battle plans. Moreau turned to one of the sergeants overseeing the tank crews. "Everything running smoothly?" The sergeant, a burly man with a thick mustache, nodded. "Mostly, sir. One of the Renault is having transmission issues. Mechanics are looking at it now." Moreau sighed. That was the third time this month. These machines were supposed to be the backbone of France's armored forces, but they were slow, unreliable, and required more maintenance than they should. He turned to Renaud. "What's our stock on spare parts?" Renaud gave him a dry look. "Take a wild guess." Moreau pinched the bridge of his nose. "Wonderful." Renaud smirked. "At least the S35s are holding up better." "For now," Moreau muttered. He watched as a group of tank crews ran through their entry drills, scrambling into their vehicles in a timed exercise. The hatch slammed shut, the engine rumbled to life, and within seconds, the turret was rotating toward a target. It was efficient, but not fast enough. Moreau checked his pocket watch. "They need to be at least five seconds faster." The sergeant raised an eyebrow. "Five seconds, sir?" Moreau nodded. "In a real fight, that's the difference between firing first or getting blown apart." The sergeant grunted but didn't argue. "I'll push them harder." Moreau clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Let's get them ready for something bigger." By midday, Moreau was back in his office, buried in reports once again. Renaud was across from him, feet up on the table, flipping through a file. "You know," Renaud said, "I love the old days when life was simple before all this discipline committee and you asking for tank and submitting report. I don't know what has changed you so much in past few weeks. From the day you woke up and confronted Perrin about all this ideology stuff, life has never been the same. Even though we don't say it Moreau, we have to accept that we have just pulled ourselves into deeper pit of French shit." Moreau didn't look up. "That is why I trust you Renaud because you and me while being pulled into this deeper pit have realised that French Army is so traditional and rigid that even a small whiff of neo realist thinking triggers a chain reaction beyond our control. I really wonder how others like Gualle handle this with more intensity." Moreau paused, thinking deeply because he realised from the moment he took over this body he has been fighting maybe it was his subconscious desire to change France that he has done beyond what a normal captian of French army is supposed to do. But he doesn't regret it. He thought of the newspaper headline from this morning. "Germany's Stability Under Chancellor Hitler-A Nation Reborn?" He thought of the intelligence officer who had come to see him, asking about Spain. The change will come and it will start with Spainish Civil Wa

Chapter 24 - 24: A Day in Verdun

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