Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

Page 130

The gleaming B-17 bombers, lined up in neat formation, had already descended upon the city of Berlin below, and the sparse anti-aircraft fire was no longer a concern.

A thousand-pound bomb, round like a California grape, plump like a Tennessee pumpkin, fell one after another through the open belly doors of the bombers, tracing terrifying whistles through the air that were more piercing to the eardrums and to the soul than air raid sirens.

Upon landing, enormous fiery mushrooms instantly filled the streets and alleys of Berlin, streams of fire and waves of smoke engulfing everything in their path. From west to east, a dark, tsunami-like wave slowly and effortlessly covered this city, spanning hundreds of square kilometers.

Yes, California grapes, Tennessee squash—aren't these the perfect fruits and ingredients for entertaining guests? The passion of the Sky Fortresses is like a Hawaiian volcano! Throw these ingredients, along with human flesh and steel, into the Eighth Air Force's pulverizer! Crush! Grind! Turn them into powder, and the fiery blades won't spare them! Throw the pulverizer into the raging furnace! Heat it up! Melt it! Turn it over and over! Once it's in, no whole piece is allowed to leave!

……

Everything was not as wonderful as she had imagined.

Things weren't as badly defeated as she had imagined.

The roar of the bombers had gradually faded into the distance, and the thunder of gunpowder had gradually subsided. Berlin was ultimately becoming more and more fragmented amidst its fragmentation, but it was far from being utterly destroyed...

Duke Sassler tried to approach Elizabeth and her siblings' room, but was blocked by the guards. Only the princess's stern voice could be heard from inside—the siblings had a private video communication device inside.

“Brother Schneizel, now is not the time for you to attack me.” Elizabeth held her younger brother in her arms, constantly soothing his tear-streaked, trembling face. “You’d better take a good look at Kelly’s face. Is this the place you sent me to?”

"No, this is a place we both wanted to come to. However, today, unfortunately, you made a serious mistake. Well, I won't pursue the matter of suddenly demanding the portal be closed without warning. As for the incident before it was closed, where a bunch of KMFs exploded out of the portal, causing heavy casualties in the honor guard and covering my car in dust? I've already said that Kelly is too much like a girl, so I always thought you were sisters. This place is not suitable for him. You brought 'her' with you."

“No! The first thing is something you should have prepared for yourself, and the second is not something you have the right to criticize.” Elizabeth slowly stood up and put her arm around her brother. “Listen to me carefully. I’m not that afraid of how terrible the war is here, but please remember this: next time, if Kelly is in this state because of you, don’t even think about having a proper conversation with me. Also, in the name of all the soldiers of the expeditionary force, that one-eyed governor of District 11 had better not neglect the army’s rear-area transportation.”

Elizabeth turned off the communication herself, while Schneizel remained seated in front of the screen, giving a disdainful smile.

"Poor little sister, I really didn't know I'd send you here... Oh no, I need to go out for a walk to clear my head after what happened today, this damn bomb..."

……

Duke Sassler was still waiting at the door when the princess finally opened it.

"Ah, Your Highness, may I ask?"

“Now I need to finish my previous speech. Take me to the command center.” She turned to the guards. “Take good care of Kelly.”

The Duke was about to peek into the room when Elizabeth slammed the door shut, glared at him fiercely, and walked away.

The weather grew increasingly gloomy and oppressive under the billowing smoke of Berlin. Just as a heavy rain was about to fall, the city's radio broadcasts resumed broadcasting the sounds that had been cut off by the bombing.

"I apologize to all the warriors of Britannia. It seems we are still far from our ultimate victory. What we are doing here today is a warning from the enemy, to let us not be complacent with our current short-lived triumph."

"The wolves driven away will one day return to the sheepfold; the sharks driven away will one day drink blood again; and the defeated enemy will one day rise again. Warriors, grip your weapons, awaken your slumbering armor, and before we utterly crush the enemies of the Britannian Empire from the land of District 45, we will surely be tempered by the flames of war; but on the day we finally triumph over this world, we will raise our arms and sing! Glory belongs to our holy Britannian Empire!"

In the command center, everyone watched as Elizabeth finished uttering the last syllable, leaned heavily against the table in front of her, and took a deep breath.

"Your Highness! There's enemy activity here!"

The crowd was somewhat alarmed, but the princess remained unmoved. A colonel prepared to step forward to remind her.

"Your Highness, we..."

"Do I need to be asked about this?" Elizabeth glared at him, then scanned everyone in the room.

"Everyone, get to your positions! Immediately! Figure this out! Then! Crush the enemy's wrists!"

……

In winter in Germany, night falls around 4 p.m.

The torrential rain, the roar of rushing water mingling with the thunderous roar of the earth, echoed here like the waves of daytime bombing, reverberating in the hearts of every Britannian soldier.

It was eerie and terrifying; water seeped into every piece of steel and crevice. In the distance, the thunder and lightning, a result of the roar of artillery fire, illuminated the suffocating night sky.

The heavy rain could neither quell the fear in people's hearts nor stop the torrent of steel that had erupted just hours earlier from being stopped by the rain curtain.

Sixty-five kilometers south of Berlin, on a highway leading to the German capital, the wrecked KMF tanks and black armored vehicles lay in ruins, silently reflecting the lingering sparks and flames on the road.

A group of fully armed Soviet soldiers, accompanied by a steel beast painted with red stars, smashed through the road leading north, guided by the headlights and gunfire.

Chapter 140, Section 203: Bear's Paw, Eagle's Claw (Part 1)

As is typical of German winters, torrential rain fell on this land.

In a small house in town, Marshal Zhukov, in his own command post, stood with his hands behind his back, looking out at the rain curtain and the horizon illuminated by the flickering firelight, feeling both content and worried.

Such scenes had been played out countless times before the enemy in the month or so since the Berlin Incident, shattering their fragile hearts that were wrapped in delicate puppets. But this time, the Marshal faced a hopeless game that might be somewhat self-deceptive.

"Comrade Marshal?"

"Oh, I see." Zhukov nodded and turned back to the map.

"The 1st Guards Tank Army and the 5th Assault Army are advancing at a pace that is somewhat faster than expected."

“That’s good.”

The marshal smiled, but not for the arrows representing the two army groups on the map, which pointed to the city of Berlin.

This fierce salient, wedged into enemy-occupied territory south of Berlin, was only about 20 kilometers from its starting point, using the central axis of the entire southern enemy-occupied territory as its advance marker.

Moreover, there is only this one salient, and only this one salient extends towards Berlin. Why is there no movement in other areas? And what is the reason for choosing to launch such an attack not from the eastern or western suburbs of Berlin, but from the city center?

……

"So, General Kuznetsov, has he sent us any news about the situation north of Berlin?"

"The pressure to retreat has been greatly reduced, and many troops have officially entered the retreat route and are heading to Poland via Szczecin."

That's right, this wasn't a decisive attack, but rather a tactic of relieving the siege of Wei by attacking Zhao.

General Kuznetsov of the 4rd Shock Army, whose soldiers once carried the Soviet red flag aboard the Reichstag building on the last day of April 1945, now finds everything ironic. As if by divine intervention, he is forced to lead a mixed force of nearly two armies to safety in this escape battle, while the enemy closes in on him.

The Soviet troops north of Berlin were under far greater pressure than those in the south—not only in terms of troop numbers, but also because supplies were nearing their limit, and road transport had been exacerbated by the enemy's so-called "Red Tornado," not to mention the logistical difficulties caused by the hastily assembled organization. General Kuznetsov was short of ammunition; even the launchers for Katyusha rocket launchers had to be used as iron benches for infantry hitchhiking on their way east.

The Soviet troops in Szczecin had already given up all the bridges, brought out all the movable inland river boats, and laid pontoon bridges wherever possible. They were helping to send the retreating soldiers to Poland while also providing the generals with supplies for the counterattack along the way.

At this point, if no one could lend him a hand, the ultimate fate of this once glorious army that conquered Berlin would undoubtedly be to crawl out of German soil with its final, broken, and bloodied body, never to return to its former complete state.

……

So how do we divert the enemy's attention? We need the help of these comrades who have retreated to the south.

Do the enemy think that taking the northern coast is within reach? Do they think that the distance to the south is safe enough that it can no longer threaten Berlin? Then let them go to hell!

Of course, this was just their own delusion. They decided to use the army groups in the south that had already been well-prepared, and the comrades who had mostly survived the retreat, to stage a huge deception on this front.

Berlin is safe? Sorry, you'd better get out of bed, see where your intelligence can be posted, calculate how many pairs of your shorts are between the nearest place and your current location, then put on your clothes, go into battle in a daze, and think carefully about whether you should bring back the troops that went north to "encircle" General Kuznetsov.

This is definitely not a good choice, is it? And what if we make the situation even more intimidating?

While the Soviet troops in the south were not too worried about supplies, they were not able to exert their full strength. This was why the US military needed to add fuel to the fire in Berlin – which is why the general who relayed Zhukov's message to General Doolittle repeatedly requested assistance.

It was precisely because of this that, in less than nine hours of daylight, amidst the ever-changing clouds, the Soviet ground forces were fortunate enough to see clear skies, allowing them to achieve such remarkable progress amidst the dance of red-starred doves and white-starred eagles.

"If it's sunny again tomorrow, that would be wonderful." The marshal picked up his pen and then put it down again. "The attacking forces will encounter less resistance, and General Kuznetsov's path will be less of a hindrance. Alas, it's a pity that we can't go back to Berlin this time, unless we're willing to risk our lives."

"I think everything should be fine, Comrade Zhukov. Moscow should understand your intentions. Marshals Rokossovsky and Konev both wrote letters of advice to the Kremlin on your behalf, didn't they?"

"Alright! Tonight, I'll ask some more good questions to wrap things up!" The marshal suddenly smiled broadly. "The 2nd Guards Tank Army on the left flank of the front, and the 47th Army on the right flank, what about them?"

"Everything is proceeding smoothly according to plan, Comrade Marshal."

……

Perhaps everything proves that General Kuznetsov was indeed a man favored by Heaven, at least in terms of warfare.

After the rainy night dissipated, at dawn at 7 a.m., a sudden gust of wind left the vast sky to the German land.

So, some American-occupied areas, more than 400 kilometers southwest of Berlin, are going to be very busy!

"Oh God! It's so fucking comfortable here!"

That voice sounds familiar, like it's been gone for a long time and then reappeared? That's right, isn't that Sergeant Jonathan Campbell, along with his new crew and some familiar faces?

For some unknown reason, the patrol and guard duty at this airport was temporarily assigned to them. Looking at the bombers positioned on the runway in the distance—not those domineering and fearless aerial fortresses, but the B-25 "Mitchell" was still a good asset for the air force, and now, they were turning their propellers to maximum speed as they faced the rising sun.

"Hey! Let me see, it's just the right time, huh?"

The sergeant turned around at the sound and saw a general wearing a polished steel helmet, holding a riding whip in front of a group of officers.

"General!" The sergeant could recognize Patton's makeup even by looking at the kidneys—it's good to have some free time, unlike Ike who's still arguing with someone right now.

"Good morning, kids!" Old Man Blood Gall rushed to the platform to the side, looked at the fighter jets, and then at the sky.

"Oh! Everything went as smoothly as Hitler's noose, didn't it!" He laughed wildly at the sky, "Ha ha! Hallelujah! God has finally swept away all the dung heaps in the sky!"

"Hey? Kid?" He suddenly turned around and looked at Jonathan. "You and I look somewhat familiar."

"At the hospital in Bad Nauheim, sir! That 'helicopter'?"

“Oh! Good boy! I’ve always remembered this!” Barton raised his hand excitedly, his hand trembling a few times. Then he called him over to the front and made him stand next to him.

"You're from the First Red Division, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Hmm... just like the young men of the 'All-American Division'." The general suddenly put his hands on his hips and lowered his head. "They all survived that mess in Berlin, they just barely made it out of there, hmm..."

"Sir?"

"I have always felt sorry for your brothers who died in Berlin, my son. I only hope that the troops that General Pershing praised will always rise again, forever!"

“Hmph, I understand, sir, but…” Jonathan rubbed his fingertip on his helmet and then showed it to the general.

“I was kicked out of Berlin a little over a month ago, and this is covered in the blood of my own men. I’m going to clean it up now and soak it in blood until it’s green and red, the blood of those damn fat pigs.”

"Hey! Your blood is way better than those bastards's Wallace! Soldier!" Patton excitedly patted the sergeant on the shoulder.

But suddenly, he seemed to think of something, and then sighed—perhaps the headquarters of the Third Army Group is still so far away?

……

“Oh, sir! It looks like…”

Suddenly, a roar echoed over the Stars and Stripes beside them. In the dim light, one could almost see the cross-shaped bald eagles flying in flocks away from the horizon, heading northeast toward Berlin.

Out of the sergeant's eye, he saw the B-25 bombers begin to move slowly, gradually accelerating towards the end of the runway.

One, two, under the high-altitude protection of Mustangs and Thunder fighters, the two-engine Tigers took off one after another, fully loaded with bombs filled with emotions, and flew into the distance.

Suddenly, General Patton twisted his body and took several steps in the direction the planes had gone, raising his riding whip high.

"That's it! Guys!" Bloodbath's voice was unexpectedly loud. "Go east! Go to Berlin! Beat those bastards to a pulp! Let them know that the blood of the First Red Division and all the American paratroopers will be sacrificed to these beasts' entrails!"

"Did you hear that! Kill them!—"

Chapter 141, Section 204: Bear's Paw, Eagle's Claw (Part 2)

"Relax, comrades, there's no need to rush."

Hmm, there's still the stench of burning electronic components from those dolls in the air, right? Oh well, we just captured this place yesterday, and there's no air freshener to spray, so we just have to bear with it, right? The taste of victory is much better than this.

Anton and his comrades from the guard company watched the trucks parked in front of them from a small building—they were about to be fully loaded with ammunition and head north, to the place where the vanguard was attacking, delivering supplies amidst the rumbling of their artillery fire.

Since the enemy had previously driven out the Germans they occupied without stopping, let's see if this time the enemy will be driven from the blades of the Soviet army without stopping, either escaping or being torn to pieces.

"Don't rush the attack, comrades." At this moment, the regimental commander came out of the house and looked at the soldiers who were about to go with the truck. "We still need to wait for some heavy support to help us deal with the enemy."

"An American plane, comrade?" Anton smiled slightly. "It's a pity that this time it's only in the air."

“A general who lacks long-term vision will not be a qualified general, Lieutenant Vasilyev.” The regimental commander’s tone suddenly became serious. “Requesting air support from the West is a matter of courtesy, but if the motherland has to send thousands of their soldiers to fight alongside us, it will be a debt that is very difficult to repay.”

"Hmm, really... that's quite a merciful favor to those bandits..."

Just then, a commotion broke out in the sky. The comrades looked up and saw birds resembling Yak fighter jets soaring across the sky, leaving a dark green phantom trail in the direction the supply convoy was about to depart.

Are they the ones supporting our comrades on the ground? No, look in the direction they came from, and you'll see the continuous roar of engines—birds, but birds with polished coats and black and white stripes. They come from the West, from American air force bases, and today they will once again join the Soviet soldiers in delivering scalding "warmth" to the enemy.

Soviet fighter planes were responsible for guiding them from the front, using their bright cannon ammunition belts to point the target from a great distance ahead. This allowed the bombs, which were measured in pounds rather than kilograms, to find their targets—the best and simplest guidance signal.

"You seem to trust them quite a bit, comrade?" The commander couldn't help but scrutinize Anton's eyes carefully, as the latter kept his gaze fixed on the wake of the American fighter jets.

"Like them, we all have a common enemy, Comrade Regiment Commander. What our motherland needs most is friends, always."

As he spoke, a deep, rumbling engine roared past as a sturdy steel rhinoceros, its unusually thick cannon barrel propelling it along its tracks, drove toward the battlefield the cannon was pointing at.

……

Now, it's some people's turn to be unlucky.

"You all retreat! I'll hold this place!"