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Page 128
"I heard that the enemy has been launching nighttime attacks on the road bridges and pontoon bridges over the Oder River these past two nights? Although the impact isn't huge, if this continues, Germany will be in a completely hopeless war..."
"So now we only have two objectives." The marshal took a deep breath. "First, to give the southern troops a chance to regroup and reorganize their defenses, preventing a complete rout. Second, to get the northern troops to quickly begin contracting their defenses and await orders..."
"Wait for orders?" The general seemed unsure of Zhukov's meaning.
"The American aid is delayed, and for the sake of the Soviet Union's future, we have no choice but to do this." With that, the Marshal opened a locked drawer on his desk and handed him a thin document.
"Keep this original telegram for me; I'll have you send it to Moscow when the time is right..."
……
The general quietly opened it to take a look.
"Currently, our Soviet troops stationed in Germany are facing the worst situation since World War II. Supply lines are difficult to repair, communication with Poland is extremely limited, hundreds of thousands of troops have been divided between the north and south by the enemy, making mutual coordination difficult, and the war in Germany is on the verge of collapse. The task of guarding against the Western Allies is no longer suitable as the primary objective. At the same time, in order to prevent the overall military strength of the Soviet Union from suffering fatal damage and to retain considerable leverage on the world stage in the future, we hereby request the Supreme Command of the Soviet Union to agree to the request of the Soviet troops stationed in Germany to withdraw from the Soviet-occupied zone in Germany, and to mobilize all available forces to help the withdrawal proceed smoothly. Marshal Georgy Zhukov is willing to take full responsibility for this failed strategic operation."
……
"Oh, by the way, could you add a sentence for me?"
"what?"
"Please persuade Comrade Stalin not to forget Kiev, Smolensk, Minsk, and Bryansk in 1941... That's all..."
"OK……"
[Author's Note: In 1941, the first year of the Soviet-German War, the Soviet Union suffered the following losses in various battles:]
[Battle of Kiev: 616304 soldiers killed or captured, 84240 wounded or sick]
[First Battle of Smolensk: 186144 soldiers killed, 273803 wounded, and 300000 captured]
[Battle of Biavestok-Minsk: 341073 soldiers killed or captured, 76717 wounded]
The Battle of Bryansk-Vyazma: 499000-673000 soldiers were captured.
[Data sourced from wiki; please use it as a reference.]
Chapter 136, Section 199: No War in East Asia
Japan's sea breeze has always been refreshing, but that hasn't been the case since the end of World War II.
Charred logs still float on the waves along the coast, unretrieved and uncollected. As for the sea breeze? It would be best to find a place untouched by war – Tokyo Bay is definitely not a good place. You know, the remains of those charred corpses from more than six months ago are still scattered like dandelions in these "gentle breezes," washing away all pleasant feelings.
So it seems that several high-ranking officials also couldn't bear to see this place in ruins—far from the devastated disaster area of Tokyo, a group of American soldiers, fully armed, were standing guard and patrolling here. In the distance, two conspicuous figures could be seen in the center of the protective net.
One was an elderly man with a full head of white hair, wearing a dark U.S. military uniform with epaulets, five stars and the U.S. bald eagle emblem attached to the slightly damp fabric on the shoulders of this five-star general.
The other man, however, appeared rather languid, wearing a leather jacket with no epaulets or medals visible. A pair of sunglasses tucked into his collar made him look like a VIP on vacation—what a nutcase! In winter, wearing sunglasses and a flimsy military cap to this chaotic mess for a holiday? And the way he placed his hands on his back completely clashed with the serious demeanor of the old general next to him!
But when it comes to their names, they are all household names.
The former seems quite obvious: General George Marshall, the "victory organizer" who had just stepped down from his position as Chief of the Army General Staff.
Even if the latter wasn't wearing a military uniform, one could guess which show-off it was—Douglas MacArthur, also a five-star general and Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Forces in the Far East, was a name deeply imprinted on the defeated Japanese Imperial Family.
……
“It’s all too complicated, everything so far,” Marshall began.
"Yeah, it really is..."
“I mean, it’s only after I got here that I realized how complicated it is, General.” He interrupted MacArthur. “The Showa era’s surrender has made you so complacent? I have to say, did the Pentagon take the order to thoroughly investigate things in Asia a joke?”
“You need to understand one thing, sir. I think I’ve emphasized that all affairs in the Far East are under my and my generals’ control, so things should be done as they are. It’s just that the general’s arrival seems to have come at the right time.”
"Hmm, I wonder if West Point students will have any respectable graduation evaluations after giving their instructors such a reply." Marshall sighed. "Fortunately, neither the Japanese nor the British in Southeast Asia were able to find any problems in the end. It's strange that General Eisenhower heard from the Russians that everything in Berlin was the work of the British."
“However, I think we can put that concern aside,” MacArthur changed the subject. “Speaking of which, how did things go in China, sir? Can our interests there still be guaranteed?”
This sentence made the old man frown again. He wanted to say something, but didn't know where to begin. (Actually, author, you're just using the excuse of being afraid of censorship to be lazy, right? #funny)
Seeing that MacArthur had been waiting for him for a long time, the general changed the subject again.
"I'm not here now in my capacity as Chief of the Army General Staff. Do you know who I'm temporarily entrusting this thorny position to?"
"Huh? Not Ike?"
“Bradley is still working as the director of veterans affairs in the country, so we can only let him do it for now.”
"Oh dear, if General Patton finds out, he'll be furious." MacArthur knew very well that as Patton's student, Bradley's path had been incredibly smooth. While Patton was waiting to catch the last train in Normandy and smashing Nazi dogs' heads as commander of the Third Army in Europe, Bradley had already reached the command position of the US Twelfth Army Group—not far from Ike's position.
It's truly humiliating. The student's career has been meteoric, while the old man's career path has been even more tumultuous than that of the US Navy fleet at the beginning of the Pacific War.
"Now General Bradley tells me that the situation in Germany is getting worse and worse," Marshall continued. "The Soviet army has now almost completely lost control of the areas they occupied under the Yalta Agreement, and it is only a matter of time before they abandon Germany. The mystery of the Berlin Incident is still unclear, but since we are also one of the two major victims of the incident, it is only right for us to provide assistance."
“Bombing, right?” MacArthur got straight to the point. “According to the agreement, we are not allowed to send ground troops into Soviet-occupied territory, so we can only let the birds visit.”
"If that's all there is to it, that's good. The worst thing that could happen is that these guys who defeated the Soviets will one day turn against our lads." The general shook his head. "Do you know what that means? We might be facing an enemy even more formidable than Nazi Germany, or even worse. Do you know what that could mean?"
"what?"
"Look at this mountain, what's behind it?"
"Tokyo? You mean that beautiful, round-headed bird?"
“‘Superfortresses,’ that’s them. They should be flying over us in swarms right now, heading to the Americas.”
"how do I say this?"
"This incident will eventually have a significant impact, and then these birds will pass away, but clearly not now. I don't know the needs of the bombers, but there is definitely not enough space in Europe to accommodate these birds that burned Tokyo, given the large number of B-17s already parked there. They won't be able to fly in the European skies until at least 1946."
“Hmm…I understand all that, General.” MacArthur nodded. “So, what does this have to do with China?”
“I’ve seen those people with white suns on their hats, and all I can say about them is that it’s a waste of time,” Marshall sighed helplessly. “Do you know that German joke? A soldier reported to the general that the Italian army had launched an attack. Just as the general was about to order five divisions to wipe them out, the soldier reminded him that Italy was an ally. So the general hurriedly changed the order to: Send 20 divisions to support them quickly.”
"You mean, the person sitting in Chongqing right now is an Italian from the East?"
"You can think of it that way, General MacArthur. When all the pressure from Germany is high enough, we absolutely cannot waste our precious human and material resources on this bloated, bloated country in the Far East for our so-called interests. This blue-and-white mud is meaningless."
"Hopefully, when you return home, the gentlemen on Capitol Hill will understand your good intentions in your speaking career, haha."
"It's not a wishful thought, it's a necessity; otherwise, everything can only be described as a futile effort..."
Chapter 137, Section 200: Their Weapons, Our War
"Welcome to District 45, ladies and gentlemen. The safety of Berlin is now guaranteed. Apart from occasionally needing to be wary of Soviet warplanes flying in boldly while eating, chatting, or using the restroom, you can rest assured. However, please be extremely careful! Do not approach the front lines of the battle between the Britannian Empire and the Soviet Union without a dedicated escort! Remember this!"
"Tsk tsk, everything else is alright, but that last sentence is an exaggeration."
Strolling along the outskirts of a small town on the edge of Berlin, two large men were examining a leaflet they had casually picked up. Their clothing was somewhat soldier-like, with armbands on their left arms and identification tags on their chests—they appeared to be two weapons engineers.
"I don't think there will be any mistakes." The guy holding the list folded it up and put it away. "When can we exaggerate the strength of the enemy?"
"That's because you don't know what's happening on the front lines, Leonardo! Right now, the Soviet troops on the front lines are completely silent; they've barely fired any artillery! I know that!"
"what?"
"Go back to Berlin and ask any of the generals or colonels. The enemy in the south is completely lined up in one place, and all they do is defend. Not to mention the north, they have three or four army groups and corps! The enemy is constantly retreating and shrinking their occupied territory! Tell me, how can they possibly lose?"
"That makes even more sense. If the Soviet army is behaving so conservatively, why are the high command still worried about them? Isn't this just the calm before the storm?!"
"What you said seems to make some sense, huh."
As they were talking, the man named Leonardo Bruno and his companion stopped.
"Do you know what I'm thinking?"
"Hmm..." His companion glanced at the large sign in front of him. "'Soviet Army Infantry Weapons Experience Station'? Oh right, the Soviet Army's weapons are probably very powerful, so you want to go and get a gun to play with?"
"What the hell... you call those big pipes in our testing range guns? You know, every profession has its own secrets."
"So, what do you care about?" His companion looked at the soldiers coming and going in and out of the field—this kind of field was built on the orders of the Seventh Princess to gather all the Soviet weapons they had picked up, so that the soldiers could test and evaluate them themselves. As for taking them to the battlefield, that should be an emergency measure.
……
"The main gun of that tank that the people of District 45 call the 'Tiger King' is really interesting."
His companions looked at him as if he were an excited believer.
"From what that so-called American said, the Tiger II was a tank manufactured by the defeated country in the war that just ended in Area 45. It couldn't save the country from defeat, but its firepower seemed undeniable. But we couldn't get any shells... Ah, this is even more frustrating than having a cold that hasn't gotten better for more than a month."
“Think about it, buddy.” Leonardo paused. “The Tiger II’s artillery can easily destroy the Soviet Bison from two or three kilometers away, as well as that American tank. Isn’t that what we want? Then it won’t be our assault guns and KMFs that will be in trouble, but the enemy. They will have to take responsibility for their soldiers sitting in iron coffins.”
"You..." his companion scratched his cheek, "Are you sure you're not just wasting your time?"
"Of course I know the KMF is capable of taking down rampaging bison, but its effectiveness against giant rhinoceroses and Minotaurs is questionable. However, I've reviewed the combat footage of our assault guns. Firstly, their rate of fire is slow, and secondly, their long-range artillery efficiency, especially when firing on the move or at night, is terrible—the accuracy is practically lost in the engine exhaust. I bet none of our enemy tanks have automatic loaders or laser rangefinders. As for night vision systems? Like the sun at night, impossible, impossible."
"If you lose, will you give me the pen you're wearing on your chest?"
“Whatever, I’m much more confident.” Bruno continued as his companion led him into the weapons station. “If we had an anti-tank gun with a flat trajectory and sufficient penetration, we wouldn’t need to use the KMF’s meager armor-piercing rounds to fight those iron turtles at a distance of several hundred meters, right within the enemy’s gun muzzle. Then we could just wait at a distance with good terrain, waiting for them to crumble on the ground like the KMFs they destroyed before. I believe we’ll have better artillery in the future, but until then, don’t you think the Tiger II’s current assets are a decent alternative?”
"Hmm, this pie sounds pretty big... I just hope you..."
“Oh, you won’t believe it, but those rifled cannons don’t require a large caliber. To achieve the power described by that prisoner from District 45, it must fire a kinetic energy projectile at an extremely high initial velocity, which means…”
……
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by a thud.
"Damn it! What's wrong with you?!"
"Stop talking nonsense! Help me up! Hurry up!"
Bruno and the other soldier knew each other. The two soldiers were carrying a sturdy Soviet anti-tank rifle, weighing over 20 kilograms and standing over two meters tall. Many KMFs had died from this heavy and slender thing at some distance.
Then, at that moment, another girl approached.
"Huh? Is it that heavy?"
The soldiers recognized her; wasn't she Corporal Ypel of the Knights of the Order? And what the hell! She effortlessly held another anti-tank rifle in front of her!
"Oh dear! You guys probably need to train!" She continued carrying the rifle forward, walked to the wooden table with rifle bullets on it, looked at the target in the distance, and casually threw the anti-tank rifle onto the table.
Hey! You over there!
It looks like a range worker tried to stop her, and the anti-tank rifle smashed the table with a loud crack, scattering wood chips and bullets all over the floor... Hmm, they must have been salvaged from a nearby dilapidated house...
“Uh… this…” Ypel scratched her head, at a loss. The administrator quickly led her to the flat ground next to her and gestured for her to lie down and hold the gun up for firing.
"Is that so... such an unfriendly thing?" she muttered as she fired. Bruno and the others watched quietly from behind as the pile of targets specifically made for anti-tank rifles—the discarded parts, engines, wooden crates, and even a few toilets and squat toilets—shattered more brilliantly than fireworks in front of the 14.5mm bullets.
“Look at this, this is what makes the KMF so embarrassed.” Bruno frowned. “They can easily beat the knights until they’re bleeding, while we still have to pave our way with our own bones…”
……
Meanwhile, on the other side of the firing range.
"Oh my! Look! Look how much fun Ipel is having!"
Griffin, along with two other girls from the group, were busy working while listening to the roar of the anti-tank gun.
“Looks like she still prefers heavier things,” Angelina chimed in. There were spent cartridge cases on the ground, and she was playing with a TT-33 and an M1895 revolver in each hand. They were about the same size as their own pistols and were quite comfortable to spin.
Although Lilizia didn't respond, she looked quite happy. She quietly finished shooting the target, then picked up and put down the PPSh-41 and Mosin-Nagant rifles repeatedly, looking at them here and there, weighing them in her hands, instantly transforming into someone picking out cucumbers at the market.
“That’s interesting. I’ll get another one.” The captain watched her walk toward the counter, where there was a machine gun on it—it had a big round plate on top, I think it was called a DP?
"Yeah, bringing you guys here is quite fun, haha! Come on! Let's continue!"
Griffin rested his head on Angelie's shoulder, put his arm around her waist, and waited for her to deftly load the magazine before raising his gun to fire. He fired several more nines and tens—the target was almost destroyed. The same was true for the targets that Lilizia had swept with her rifle and submachine gun.
"Impressive! Looks like these people from District 45, using outdated weapons, don't know how to make junk!"
“The pistol is light and the bullets are powerful and accurate. It’s just that loading the revolver is a little awkward.” Angelie said, fiddling with the cylinder of the pistol. “It’s a bit heavy, and you can only eject the spent cartridges one by one.”
"What about the others? What do you think?"
"As for the submachine gun, didn't you see how happy Lilizia was when she used it to shoot targets? As for that long stick, although pulling the trigger and then pulling the bolt is quite annoying, I'm quite satisfied with the power of the bullet. Really, not only is the accuracy pretty good, but one shot is basically enough to kill someone, just like the machine gun on the vehicle-mounted assault gun."
"It seems that what they said before, that our infantry is routinely overwhelmed by these Soviet weapons in urban street fighting, is understandable?"
"If the Soviet army doesn't know how to use these weapons and we still lose on the battlefield, that would be unforgivable. We need to be smart when facing them. Previously, Ipel, Lilizia, and I were almost killed in front of the Minotaur by a stupid officer. Since his men, including himself, didn't understand what it meant to avoid the enemy's sharp edge and insisted on fighting the Minotaur to the death, I don't need to die with them. Stubborn people who don't understand military strategy are better off dead sooner rather than later."
As she spoke, Angelina carefully licked a slightly warm bullet casing with the tip of her tongue, examined it for a moment, and then tossed it away.