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Page 107
Everyone looked at the label on the item: November 1945, Wolf, Germany. A quick check of the records would reveal that this was a part from a Britannian transport plane that crashed in British-occupied territory a few years earlier.
The technology at the time was extremely limited, and before anyone had a chance to figure out what it was and clear up any misunderstandings between Britain, the US, and the Soviet Union, Britannia's identity was revealed. There was no valuable intelligence or documents on the plane, and the ongoing war undoubtedly kept intelligence agencies busy investigating the extraterrestrial visitor. This orange-red box made of hard metal was neglected in the hold until today, when it finally saw the light of day again.
Now everyone has figured out what this is—a flight recorder, commonly known as a black box, which contains the last audio recording of the plane before it crashed, as well as a record of any technical malfunctions that occurred before the crash.
They took out the recording tapes from the black box and read them slowly. Before the Western Allies acquired this top-secret recording technology from the Germans in 1945, this was a method they would have had difficulty doing for a while.
As the cassette tape slowly rotated, the historical truth recorded before the plane collided with the earth came to light.
……
1945年11月12日，6:21 AM。
A Britannian armed transport plane, trailing black smoke billowing from bullet holes in its wings and wounds in its fuselage, swayed in the dark German sky. Its navigation lights flickered like candles in the wind among the clouds around it, climbing the waves of the electrocardiogram monitor.
Behind its trail of smoke, the "dimly lit" city of Berlin could still be faintly seen—the portal in the sky was already busy taking in the fleet, bringing them back to the embrace of the sea breeze in Area 11. Only this wounded bird, fallen from the sky, continued to fly forward alone, flying, unable to do anything...
"How about... we try again to see if the aileron can move?"
"It's impossible... There's no need to try anymore..."
Inside the cockpit, the two pilots could no longer hide their expressions of utter despair, staring blankly at the dark night sky and the instrument panel flickering erratically in front of them.
The aircraft's flaps, ailerons, and even several landing gear units were damaged in the previous airdrop operation, rendering the plane unable to turn, and even climbing and descending were quite difficult. Only the engines survived. Looking at the dark earth beneath the fuselage, a safe emergency landing had become a pipe dream.
The captain was a middle-aged woman with long, black hair. A small piece of the windshield in front of her was shattered, leaving a bright red cut on her face below her eye. But the captain ignored it. Blood dripped like tears for a long time, ruffled by the wind that let in, leaving a curse-like mark.
She glanced at the location map; the plane beneath her was already almost 110 kilometers from Berlin.
"Calling command center! This is Black Prince Legion A102 transport plane! Our aircraft is seriously damaged. Please respond! Please respond!"
During this long journey, the co-pilot had called the command center no less than ten times. However, after so long, apart from the message left by the squadron leader when they parted ways, there was no news from the radio. Each failed call brought a heavy burden of despair to their hearts.
"Relax." The captain sighed. "We haven't been intercepted yet, so we should be relatively safe. Leave this to me. You go to the cabin and check on the others."
"Yes……"
The deputy commander reluctantly dropped his flight helmet, stood up, went to open the cockpit door, and walked to the high platform at one end of the cabin.
Just a few hours ago, she stood right here, facing the KMFs in the cabin, ready to go into battle, and gave them a loud pep talk.
……
"Fight! Never give up!—"
"For glory!—"
"All Hail Britannia!—"
Not only were the pilots caught up in the excitement, singing and dancing wildly, but even the two female cabin managers and the female self-defense cannon operator in the cockpit joined in the shouting and yelling, as if if they were given a gun, they could jump down and collect hundreds of heads.
……
Hours later, KMF has jumped out of the cabin and his fate is unknown. The empty cabin is now a scene of decay.
"Sigh..." The deputy commander couldn't help but sigh. On the left side of the cockpit, the fire control room, which was responsible for all the left-side machine guns, had been turned into a deformed ball of steel by Soviet anti-aircraft guns. Thick smoke surrounded the room, making it impossible for anyone to stay.
And the girl who should have been inside? You'd better not look. She was lying in a corner of the cabin, and the others had already covered her with a blanket—or rather, covered "it"—the word "intact" had once again failed to apply. Outside the red-stained blanket, her severed arm was visible, and one of her legs was missing as well. Blood flowed all over the ground around her, making her look like a dying rabbit struggling.
And what about the other side of the cabin? The gunner on the right side had already left his post. She sat dejectedly to the side, quietly watching the two cockpit operators, one lying helplessly and the other kneeling excitedly, comforting each other.
"Yes, you ate salmon for days on end there, didn't you, Mary?"
"Mmm...delicious...so delicious...Helena...let's go eat chicken after we land...let's go eat roast turkey..."
"Uh-huh!……"
Helena had been cut in the side of her ribs by shrapnel from an anti-aircraft shell that had penetrated the cockpit. She was now breathing heavily, clutching Mary's hand, trying to stay alive...
Inside the cabin, the flickering lights, the occasional sparks from the electrical circuits, and the whistling wind seeping in from the damaged cabin walls—like a mournful storm, like a requiem in a cemetery—silently accompanied the tears and blood of the two, echoing on this desperate flight…
……
However, at that moment, the deputy commander suddenly noticed a bright light reflecting off the fuselage of the aircraft! Amidst the roar of the engines, a terrifying air raid siren sounded from the direction of the ground!
"Captain!" she rushed into the cockpit.
"We've been discovered... Tell them to get themselves secured, and you too, we're about to wade through a sea of fire..."
"Yes!"
Under the sky, several Soviet air defense positions inadvertently discovered this ragged traveler, and naturally gave it a warm welcome with lights and gunfire. It was simply too much; just one plane, yet it attracted so many venomous bullets into the sky, like a piece of pungent, pungent meat that excited the senses.
"Ah... By the Emperor..."
The plane bobbed and swayed amidst the large-caliber anti-aircraft munitions exploding in the air. The enemy had already dragged them from the vast sky to a difficult iron chain bridge, and with malicious smiles, they kept shaking the iron chain, turning this flight into a deadly prank.
"Ah!" Suddenly, the plane jolted with a loud explosion, and the commotion from the anti-aircraft guns and the beams of the searchlights abruptly ceased...
"We...we made it out?"
"Yes, but not quite..." The co-pilot looked at the captain and breathed a sigh of relief.
Only then did she notice that the control panel was flashing, which seemed to be caused by the shell that had just hit the plane's power battery!
"How...how could this be..." The co-pilot's face turned pale with fright as he watched the constantly decreasing altitude and the ever-increasing speed under the influence of gravity.
"Prepare for an emergency landing, girl." The captain's eyes were filled with helplessness.
……
They were getting closer and closer to the ground; they could even see some campfires on the ground. Now, the plane was barely skimming towards the ground at an angle of 20 degrees and a speed of four or five hundred kilometers per hour.
"Looks like the speed brakes are broken too..." The captain was utterly desperate. "We just can't reduce the speed at all..."
“Captain…” At this moment, she turned her head and saw the co-pilot put his hand between the two of them.
"This is how it ends, huh? It's the first time we've participated in a real battle together."
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Nothing much, I just hope that before I leave this beautiful world, I can hold onto something warm in my hands."
"Wonderful world, I didn't expect you to actually joke around. At least, this is the first time I've encountered one like this." The captain smiled helplessly and took his right hand off the control stick.
"Let's fight for Britannia again in our next life."
"Of course, it would be best to do it together."
Just as the two were about to shake hands, a powerful blow ripped off their seatbelts, jolting them from their seats and slamming them hard against the overhead cabin...
……
That day, before dawn, British and Soviet soldiers witnessed a sunflower, bursting with flames and sparks, blooming at the border between the two occupied territories, illuminating the night sky...
……
As soon as the sky cleared, British soldiers had already gathered there, looking around at the behemoth—bigger than a Lancaster bomber, an outrageously large size.
"Alas, we haven't found any documents, gentlemen. How are we going to explain this to the general?"
"How about we just leave it at that? Or I think you could wear this girl's hairpin; it looks quite nice." A soldier pointed at the girl, whose neck was being pulled by a rope and whose heart had been pierced by a piece of metal. She was dressed in what looked like crew member clothing and had died tragically in front of the soldiers.
"Then let's collect their identification tags; there's nothing else to look for."
Hey! There's someone here!
Exclamations rang out, and everyone rushed over. Under a steel plate that had just been moved, another unidentified female soldier lay there, barely alive—yes, this one with long black hair was still alive.
"Get the stretcher! Get the stretcher! Keep a close eye on her!"
Three soldiers were left to guard the place, while the others left.
"How come this girl is even stronger than you, John?"
"Her skin isn't as fair as yours."
Just as the three were whispering to each other, they turned around and were shocked to see that the girl had tilted her head slightly and slowly raised her right arm!
"Don't move!" The soldier quickly raised his rifle and pointed it at her head.
But the girl didn't stop; her arm continued to slowly rise until it reached the midpoint between her eyes and the soldier's stomach.
The soldier could see clearly that the girl's blood-stained hand was moving and clenching, the gesture somewhat resembling that of someone holding a gun and firing...
"you……"
Before she could finish speaking, the girl's body went limp, and she collapsed completely to the ground...
"The stretcher's here! The stretcher's here! Quick, get this girl over there!"
"No need... Take the stretcher back, we didn't find it sooner..."
……
A few days later, in London, the capital of Britain, the Soviet ambassador to the UK heard the following in a reply spoken with an English accent:
"...There really were no survivors on the plane, Mr. Gusev. As you can see, the photos we gave you at the scene clearly show that when our soldiers arrived there, only one or two crew members were still barely clinging to life. According to our soldiers, they were beyond saving, and we didn't get any valuable documents either."
"As for your accusation that 'this plane likely belongs to our British side,' everything needs to be verified by us before it can be established. In the words of the generals, you Soviets have deployed so many troops and observation posts on our border, and now you're asking us to be responsible for anything that flew in from your side. The scales are already heavily tipped in your favor, as everyone knows. Do you want to add a bunch of weights on top of that?"
……
The conflict between several major powers has escalated further, starting with a seemingly absurd true story, full of misunderstandings and unbelievable historical truth.
Closing this book, "The Truth About the European Border Crisis in 1945," a relatively new publication, one can't help but feel a sense of melancholy.
Sitting by the Thames, gazing at the tranquil sky, I held a tray in one hand and the handle of a teacup in the other, raising it towards the sky on the opposite bank.
I can only sincerely hope that after I finish reading this book and have drunk all my tea, there will never again be foreign warplanes flying over the sky above Big Ben, and the world's clouds will never again be stained red by the flames of helpless war.
Chapter 107, Section 164: A Small Test
Another night passed, and it was dawn on the third day since the railway bridge over the Oder River collapsed.
Marshal Zhukov had eaten early in his command post and stood in front of the map on the wall, looking at it thoughtfully.
"What time is it now?" The marshal asked an officer, turning around when he realized his watch wasn't on his wrist.
"Two minutes until 7:30, comrade."
"Hmm, very good." The marshal nodded in satisfaction and turned his face back.
"It's up to you, Comrade Chuikov."
……
Not long after, just as the marshal finished adjusting his collar, the tranquil German land was suddenly shattered by a series of muffled artillery bombardments...
While the Britannian KMFs were still looking bewildered in the direction from which the artillery fire was coming, the radio waves had already sped back to Berlin and into the command center inside the Reichstag building.
"Your Grace! The 4th Newfoundland Brigade stationed in Stolko reports! Soviet troops are launching long-range artillery attacks on their forces stationed within the town!"
“Mark it on the map, soldier.”
"Yes!"
Before the generals could even digest their breakfast, they had to stand up and head straight to the map table.
"Storko, hmm...it seems they're trying to push the front lines in. Soldier! Inquire about the 4th Newfoundland Brigade, what's their situation?"
“Uh… Your Excellency the Duke…” The communications officer adjusted his headset. “They are mostly huddled in the village waiting for the shelling to end. Some of the guard units outside the city have already withdrawn from the surrounding area and are retreating and regrouping in the opposite direction of the incoming artillery fire. The casualties are not yet clear, but it is estimated that they have lost the combat capability of 5 companies.”
"Tell them to hold their positions, and that reinforcements will approach from their flanks to hold off the enemy's attack. Now give me orders to the troops near Stolko to prepare for an immediate attack, understand?"
“Understood, Your Excellency, but…”
"But what?"
……
"One last check! Comrades! We're about to attack!"
Lieutenant Lemilia was once again on the edge of the trench, but this time, they weren't waiting for the enemy to come to them. A PPSh submachine gun was already around his neck, grenades were stuffed into his belt, and his comrade beside him had even slung a disassembled DShK heavy machine gun over his shoulder, his hands resting on the edge of the trench, rubbing his palms together eagerly.
Some comrades, however, were still too naive, covering their ears tightly with their hands to reduce the damage to their eardrums from the surrounding sound waves—the earth-shaking artillery fire came from the towering howitzers in the rear, from the short and powerful SU-76 self-propelled guns not far away, and even more so from the tidal waves stirred up by the several baskets of shells hitting the distant town.
Fortunately, the binoculars weren't in his hands, otherwise what he saw through the lens would have made him forget to cover his ears again. The town was like a cotton ball, and the shells were like bamboo poles being swung down one after another. In the endless and chaotic pounding and lashing, the rooftops, the dust on the ground, and even the unfortunate soldiers whose bodies had been torn apart by the explosions, were like tufts of silk and spools of yarn being picked up and patted by the sticks. The entire town had become a sandstorm continent ruled by death.
"Aha!" As Lemilia secretly took a sip of wine, the roar of the SU-76s came to an abrupt halt. They leveled their cannons and then took a few shells from the open ground behind them and put them into the ammunition rack.
In the distance on both flanks, the continuous roar of engines sounded like a millstone grinding wheat; the clusters of T-34 tanks, with their tracks and engines, were beginning to unleash an invading tide. Brand-new Il-10 attack aircraft flew over the heads of Soviet soldiers amidst this endless wave of activity, some adding fuel to the fire over towns battered by artillery fire, while many more flew over towns, laden with ammunition, heading towards even more distant lands.
"Go, 'Flying Tank' comrade!" The lieutenant waved excitedly at the tank, calling out its nickname—a name that resembled the Il-2 but didn't seem to belong to it at all. "Get far ahead so we can take off and catch up with you! Hey!"