Chapter 27 - 27: Morning Patrolling

Words : 1081 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

Get a glimpse of "Reincarnated: Vive La France" Chapter 27: The damp morning air clung to Moreau's skin as he tightened the strap on his... Continue the adventure now!

The damp morning air clung to Moreau's skin as he tightened the strap on his field cap. The garrison had been awake long before dawn, soldiers moving between supply depots, refueling vehicles, and checking their weapons. He stood near the lead Citroën-Kégresse half-track, watching as the final preparations were made. Renaud leaned against the side of the half-track, arms crossed, watching the infantrymen finish their equipment checks. Searᴄh the nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. He took a long, slow breath before muttering, "I hate morning patrols." Moreau smirked slightly, rolling his shoulders as he checked the strap of his revolver holster. "You hate all patrols." Renaud gave a half-hearted shrug. "True. But I hate border patrols even more. They always start the same way boredom, silence, the occasional dead rabbit in the road. But they never end the same way." Moreau didn't disagree. They were preparing for a routine reconnaissance mission, yet there was nothing routine about the situation. The missing patrol had left too many unanswered questions, and the unusual reports of activity near the border had everyone on edge. Lieutenant Berger approached, straightening the leather strap on his map case as he came to stand beside them. "My men are ready. We'll take the western route along the farmland and ridgelines. Your group will move east, through the woodland route." Moreau nodded. "If we find anything, we'll signal. No unnecessary risks. Keep formations tight." Berger's face remained unreadable, though his fingers twitched slightly over the map case. "I hope this is just a long walk in the mud, Capitaine." Moreau exhaled, glancing at the dark tree line in the distance. "So do I." Behind them, the convoy was lined up and ready. The Renault R35 tank stood idle, its engine humming low, exhaust curling in the morning chill. The infantry squads were finalizing their gear, adjusting rifle straps, securing ammunition pouches, and checking their FM 24/29 light machine guns. "Alright," Moreau called out, raising his voice just enough to carry across the group. "Standard reconnaissance formation. Lead squad, fifteen meters ahead. Half-tracks stay at the rear. Renault keeps distance but stays in visual contact. No one separates." The soldiers gave short nods, falling into position with trained efficiency. Renaud stepped beside him, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder. "Shall we?" Moreau sighed, stepping forward. "Let's move." The convoy moved slowly along the damp dirt road, cutting through rolling fields. The morning was quiet too quiet. Moreau glanced toward a nearby farmhouse, its chimney sending up a thin wisp of smoke. A middle-aged farmer stood near the fence, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the convoy as they passed. Renaud, walking beside the half-track, turned his head slightly. "They're watching us like we're ghosts." "They've lived near the border long enough to know when something isn't right," Moreau muttered. As they continued, they passed a cluster of children standing near a well, their wide eyes following the soldiers as they marched past. A little girl, no older than seven, whispered something to an older boy beside her. Moreau caught only two words. "Les disparus." The missing ones. Renaud glanced at him. "They know." "Of course they do," Moreau muttered. "News moves faster in small towns than in Paris." The dirt road narrowed as they approached the last checkpoint before the border, a small outpost with sandbagged defenses and a raised wooden watchtower. A gendarme stood at the entrance, rifle slung over his shoulder, his uniform slightly disheveled. Moreau signaled for the convoy to slow. He stepped forward, taking a measured look at the soldiers stationed at the outpost. They weren't many. Twelve men, a single half-track, and an old Hotchkiss M1914 machine gun mounted at the tower. These men weren't expecting a fight. The gendarme captain, an older man with a thick mustache, stepped forward, gripping a worn leather notebook. "You're the men from Verdun?" Moreau nodded. "Capitaine Moreau, 3rd Armored Division. We're here to investigate the missing patrol." The older officer exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Merde… I told command this was serious, but they didn't want to listen." Moreau raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" The gendarme exchanged a glance with one of his men, then took a step closer. "The patrol wasn't just scouting the usual paths. They were investigating something." Moreau's jaw tightened. "And what was that?" The officer hesitated before looking toward the tree line. "There were tracks in the woods, beyond the old outpost heavy ones. Tire marks. Not French. Too wide for farm equipment, and they didn't match anything we use." Moreau felt a cold certainty settle in his chest. "And you didn't report this?" The older officer laughed bitterly. "Of course I did. Command said it was 'paranoia.' They said the Germans wouldn't be stupid enough to risk an incident here, not yet." Moreau exhaled sharply. It was exactly what he expected to hear. Paris didn't want a war. Which meant Paris didn't want evidence that one had already started. Behind him, Renaud shifted uneasily. "So the missing patrol wasn't just unlucky. They found something they weren't supposed to." Moreau nodded slowly, scanning the edge of the dense woodland. "And whatever it was, someone made sure they wouldn't talk about it." The radio operator approached, adjusting his headset. "Capitaine, we've confirmed signal strength with the garrison. We'll check in every thirty minutes." Moreau nodded. "Good. I want updates on the half-hour, no exceptions. If anything happens, we don't wait for orders from above." The patrol squads were already moving into position, spreading out in staggered formation as they prepared for the forest sweep. The Renault R35 remained at the rear, its turret swiveling slightly as the crew adjusted their sights. Moreau turned to Renaud. "We take it slow. Keep track of every movement, every noise. If something feels wrong, it probably is." Renaud sighed, shifting his rifle. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be one of those days?" Moreau smirked. "Because it already is." The patrol stepped forward, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. The trees closed in around them, the air turning colder. They were officially in the unknown now. And Moreau knew, something was waiting for them in the dark.

Chapter 27 - 27: Morning Patrolling

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