Reincarnated: Vive La France-Chapter 36: "Aim the cannon at the Major. Now"

The march was relentless.

Moreau didn't allow for rest, not even a brief halt to regroup.

The orders were clear no stops, no unnecessary interactions, no hesitation.

Every kilometer they crossed reduced the chances of an ambush, but only slightly.

The Renault R35 led the column, its engine growling as it rolled through dirt roads and forest paths at a steady, unwavering pace.

Behind it, the column of troops marched, keeping a tight formation.

The prisoners were bound to the back of the Renault, their arms tied, their legs occasionally stumbling as the rough terrain tested their endurance.

"Faster!" Moreau barked.

There was no time to feel pity.

Renaud, walking beside him, exhaled sharply. "You do realize we've covered nearly 30 kilometers in four hours? These bastards aren't going to hold out much longer."

Moreau's jaw tightened. "They don't need to. They just need to be alive when we reach Perrin."

The trees stretched endlessly around them, the thick foliage occasionally parting to reveal distant hills.

The march had been smooth so far.

Too smooth.

And then, just ahead, a roadblock.

Moreau halted immediately, raising a fist.

A group of French troops fifteen in number stood stationed at the crossing.

Their uniforms were crisp, well-maintained, too clean for soldiers stationed this deep.

Leading them stood a Major, his polished boots pressing into the dirt, hands folded behind his back as he watched Moreau's approaching unit with disdain.

"What the fuck is this?" Renaud muttered under his breath.

Moreau stepped forward, rifle still in hand, though not yet raised.

The Major smirked. "Capitaine Moreau, is it? Quite the sight. French soldiers, tied up like criminals, being marched by one of their own."

His voice was dripping with arrogance, the kind only men with comfortable chairs in Paris offices carried.

Moreau kept his voice level, but firm.

"Step aside, Major. We have orders to reach headquarters immediately."

The Major's smirk widened. "And whose orders are those, Capitaine? Because unless I hear a name worth a damn, I don't see why I should let you through."

Moreau's hand clenched slightly at his side.

"Orders from Colonel Perrin. Directly."

At that, the Major's eyes flickered with something hesitation, perhaps, or calculation.

Then, he let out a chuckle.

"Perrin, is it? The man who thinks he runs the army? Tell me, Capitaine, do you always blindly follow orders, or do you actually think for yourself?"

Moreau's patience was thinning.

"Step. Aside."

The Major's smirk vanished.

He tilted his head slightly, then let out a long sigh.

"No."

With that single word, his men unslung their rifles, aiming them directly at Moreau's unit.

Moreau didn't flinch.

Behind him, his own troops raised their weapons.

The Major sighed dramatically.

"Now, let's try this again, Capitaine. Explain to me, very carefully, why you're parading French soldiers through the countryside like prisoners of war."

Moreau's teeth clenched.

"Stand down. That is an order."

The Major let out a laugh.

"An order? From you? Capitaine, I don't take orders from lower officers who don't even understand where they stand. You don't have authority over me."

Moreau's hand twitched toward his holster.

"I do today."

The Major raised an eyebrow. "Do you now? And what are you going to do if I don't move? Shoot me? Cause a mutiny? Arrest an officer of the French Army in front of his men? I'd love to see how that plays out for you."

Moreau exhaled slowly.

Then, without hesitation, he turned to the tank commander.

"Sergeant Lavelle! Aim the cannon at the Major. Now."

A loud, mechanical whine filled the air as the Renault R35's turret shifted, locking onto the Major.

The Major's eyes widened slightly.

Moreau stepped forward, voice dropping into a lethal tone.

"You have five seconds, Major. Either you surrender, or you fucking die."

The Major's soldiers froze, hands gripping their rifles more tightly.

"You wouldn't dare."

Moreau's finger hovered over the trigger of his sidearm.

"Try me."

The Major hesitated.

His eyes darted between his men, the tank, and Moreau's unwavering expression.

The Renault's cannon remained steady, its barrel trained directly at his chest.

"Captain, you are making a grave mistake!" the Major snapped, his voice losing some of its arrogance.

Moreau let a slow smirk cross his face. "No. The mistake was yours. You should have stepped aside when I asked nicely. Now, you don't have a choice."

The Major gritted his teeth, fists clenched, but he could see the writing on the wall.

Then, finally, he exhaled.

And he raised his hands.

"Fine. You want to act like a dictator, Capitaine? So be it. I surrender."

Moreau didn't hesitate.

"Renaud."

Renaud stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to the Major's face, sending him crashing to the ground.

The Major was livid.

Blood dripped from his split lip, but his rage burned hotter than any pain.

"You fucking bastards!" he roared, struggling to stand up

His voice echoed through the forest, raw with fury. "You think you can humiliate me? ME? You're all dead men walking!"

Moreau ignored him but the Major wasn't finished.

"I will personally execute each and every one of you!" he spat, eyes wild with fury. "Your families too! I'll make sure they're dragged through the streets and shot like traitors!"

The troops tensed, some shifting forward, hands gripping their rifles dangerously tight.

One soldier, his face red with fury, took a step forward, his fists clenching.

"Shut the fuck up, you pig—"

Before he could act, Renaud moved first.

His fist slammed into the Major's face.

Then again.

And again.

The sound of bone crunching filled the air as Renaud pounded his fists into the man's skull, blood splattering across the dirt.

By the time Renaud stopped, panting, his knuckles covered in blood, the Major lay limp in the mud unconscious, face barely recognizable.

Moreau sighed. "Well. That's one way to shut him up."

The other soldiers flinched, some stepping back instinctively.

Moreau's gaze swept over the remaining fifteen men.

"You will follow my unit to headquarters. If any of you so much as blink suspiciously, you will be executed on the spot. No warnings. No mercy."

The soldiers hesitated.

Then, one by one, they nodded stiffly.

Renaud let out a low whistle, shaking his hand. "Merde, that felt good."

Moreau didn't respond. His eyes remained locked on the fallen Major.

There was rot in the army. And it went deeper than he had thought.