Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

Page 165

"Yes, yes?"

"Hey, do you Japanese people have some kind of weird racial talent...? Since she resonates with you, wow, she really is Japanese? But her accent isn't Japanese at all..."

……

"...According to information provided by the military, in the hijacking of the escort vehicle that occurred yesterday on the highway near Mount Gozaisho, Baron Simil, who was in charge of the convoy's overall affairs, unfortunately passed away early this morning after failing to respond to treatment. The whereabouts of the fugitive criminals remain unknown. All residents of the 11th district are urged to be vigilant and report any suspicious activity immediately..."

"...Due to the attack on the train by the Black Knights, the railway system between Tokyo and Sendai has completely collapsed. Authorities say repairs may take more than a week, and the military losses caused by the incident are still being tallied..."

A few days later, Davis and his buddies, along with Chizuru Nagayama, were calmly resting in the military camp while watching the news on TV as if it were commonplace. Good heavens, in the letter that young Japanese man, Clato, had given them, he had said that they would rely on the Black Knights to stab Britannia in the back in these places, and if they were caught up in it, they would be a little less vigilant.

"Hey, I have to say, the Black Knights have been so active lately, it's a bit..."

"Are you trying to become their buddy?"

"Keep your voice down!" Philip raised his hand and slapped Taylor on the head, but Yongshan didn't seem alarmed.

"Sergeant, what do you think?"

"Sigh, actually the Black Knights went quite far. Every time they died, it was a nobleman or something. I'm a little... But I'm wondering, when will they be able to meet with those Germans?"

"You want the Black Knights to take care of those Nazis?"

"Why not? Are you planning to make me watch and think about what they did, and then feel like vomiting... Don't even mention it, I haven't had any appetite these past few days because of these beasts..."

Chapter 194, Section 264: Tracked bullets roll forward!

"Hoo..." He exhaled a puff of smoke, then sniffed the air carefully; the smell of the flares from last night was still there.

Daylight had broken, and Jonathan walked with Captain Drucker across the Osleben bridge. Last night, those Britannian puppets had launched a large-scale attack on the village, seemingly intending to blow up the bridge. However, their assault guns had left the bridge riddled with holes, forcing them to hastily call in engineers from the rear to repair it with steel plates and bars.

This meant that those who had planned to set off for Bernburg at dawn would have to wait a while longer—looking at the edge of the village facing the river, there were still some tank tracks visible, not to mention the anti-tank guns still in position. These guys carrying cannons had been relentlessly retaliating against every punch and kick from the enemy across the river since last night. Leaving aside how many brothers had fallen, at least the charred Chaffee tank marked "Pig Brain" was a real loss.

However, this was not a big deal. Under the afternoon sun and with the cover of the night, not only did the engineers repair the bridge, but the enemy also retreated in disarray to outside the range of the soldiers' direct fire. The soldiers were also greeted by a group of eagerly awaiting new comrades.

"Sergeant, shouldn't we set off? Intelligence says the enemy forces at Bainburg have already started their retreat, but I heard the artillery supporting us doesn't seem to be deployed yet?"

“Of course, but in that case, we won’t encounter much easier resistance outside the city.” The two turned around and saw a line of M4 Sherman tanks already lined up in a straight line on the road directly opposite the repaired bridge.

"Hooray! Sergeant!" After chatting with Carl and Tommy, the tank commander greeted Jonathan, "How about a good .50 machine gun after a night of shitting?"

"I know how to do it, 'Spearhead'." The sergeant glanced at the tank commander's armband, which bore the insignia of the 3rd Armored Division.

"Check your weapons, men!" The captain walked down the street, inspecting the soldiers around him. "Get ready to move out immediately. If you think anything is wrong or missing, speak up."

"What's missing? Ha." Jonathan had already climbed onto the turret of the M4 tank, operating the heavy machine gun on the roof. "Right now, all we're missing are the hearts, livers, spleens, and stomachs of those bastards across the river. We'll stew them up and mix them with luncheon meat for a snack with our drinks!"

The brothers behind him burst into laughter.

"Sergeant? Sounds like you have a blood feud with those pretty boys, like they killed your whole family?"

"Yes, there is a grudge, a grudge against our First Red Division! Before we set off, allow me to talk to you about this on behalf of the captain, okay?" He glanced at the captain's eyes and then organized his thoughts.

……

"Guys, we all come from a really awesome unit. We're the kind of guys who were forced out of Berlin by those bastards a little over two months ago. I really want to know how much anger you all felt and how many brothers died in those shitty days in the back alleys of Berlin, fighting those Britannian scum. Why am I asking this? This is our last message to those bastards across the river!"

"They drive tanks and sit in mannequins several meters tall, thinking that was all we were capable of two months ago, thinking we could only ever be like clowns, brandishing our guns in front of them? Today, I'm asking you guys a favor: take out all your machine guns and artillery, every last bit of your equipment, and give them a good talking to, so they'll understand that the First Red Division's 'number one' status wasn't achieved by smearing our blood, but by squeezing out their brains!"

"Get your guns and eyes on high alert, buddies! Remember your brothers who died in Berlin, remember the enemy's stupid grinning face in your dreams, remember to shove every bullet into the wombs of those bastards! Today, let those dogs see how the men of the First Red Division really fight!"

The entire two companies of soldiers along the road roared wildly as the M4 tank engines roared at high speed.

"Let's go, buddy." The captain waved, signaling them to move forward. "Bainburg is ours!"

……

Meanwhile, in the town hall of Bainburg, 8 kilometers away from Osleben, Fang Cai slowly lowered the blue and purple flag above his head. Britannian soldiers were still busy withdrawing from the streets. KMFs squeezed together with assault guns, which followed infantry fighting vehicles out of the city and retreated northward along the Elbe River.

In the villages and settlements on the southern outskirts of the city, many soldiers were left behind to provide cover for the rearguard.

"Are we just going to stay here and wait to die?" two KMF pilots chatted on the radio, "and let those people in the city escape so easily?"

"Calm down, calm down, don't keep thinking about those things. Ah, although the Soviet troops have almost cut off our rear, you have to think about what if we are facing the American army? According to what those people said before, they don't have as many people as the Soviets, at least that's what's in front of us."

"Uh, yeah, not counting the sky, there aren't many..."

"Hello, everyone listen up!" The radio crackled to life. "Reliable intelligence: a wave of American troops has just crossed the river. They're not many, and they're preparing to launch a three-pronged attack together with forces on the flank. Get ready..."

However, before he could finish speaking, a cannon shot rang out in the distance. The officer, who was still busy calling out to everyone, along with his own aircraft, was smashed into pieces scattered all over the ground, like mud being shoveled up.

"Oh my god..." Then several more rounds of artillery fire came, hitting the KMFs and tanks beside them. "What are the Americans doing..."

……

"Watch the flanks, maintain formation, and push them down!"

Six M4 tanks formed an arrowhead charge, followed by a convoy of jeeps and half-tracks led by "Peanut" Chaffee, and they surged toward the chaotic land.

"All .50 machine guns, follow my orders! Once an enemy KMF rushes over, immediately engage the target with my ammunition belt!"

Jonathan stood atop the Sherman tank on the far left of the column, glancing back at his men advancing close behind. He tapped his communicator to his ear and unleashed a barrage of fire from the roof-mounted heavy machine gun towards the enemy. The machine gunners on the other tanks were also busy. The giants and black vehicles were relentlessly retaliating, shells grazing their heads, and the ammunition belts from infantry fighting vehicles and machine guns rattling against the tanks' frontal armor. The flying dirt and sparks slowly tore at the soldiers' nerves; the intense pain, yet like a stimulant, ignited a violent rage at every crack in their nerves.

"AP rounds, 12 o'clock position, 800 yards! Fire!"

"On the way!"

The tanks continued to advance, slowly adjusting their gun barrels to point at the most noteworthy targets—the top-heavy assault guns and the steel giants carrying their barrels. 76mm and 75mm shells flew out of the barrels one after another, swirling across the messy farmland along with the machine gun ammunition belts.

"It's done, it's done!" Jonathan was standing on the tank with only half of his head sticking out of the hatch. He saw an assault gun in the distance start firing like a flaming pile of firewood, and soon the position directly in front of him was filled with thick smoke.

"Hurry up, buddy." He turned to look at the sergeant reloading. "I reckon those machine gun-wielding teddy bears are about to charge in."

"No problem!" After loading the new bullets, the sergeant took a closer look. Damn, there really are some fearless people out there?

"Left! Concentrate fire! Concentrate fire!" At the command, the six heavy machine guns on the turrets of the six Sherman tanks were all aimed at Gloster, who was charging out with a machine gun. The streaks of red light from the tracer rounds were twisted into a rope, like a venomous snake about to bite this reckless man.

"Keep going, keep going, don't let it get behind the tank!" The purple bastard fired at the infantry behind the tank while swaying left and right. "Shit, is this damn thing a rabbit in disguise?"

"Don't stop, don't stop! Aim for its legs. This guy isn't that tough. Don't keep shooting at its head and chest!"

After a heart-stopping exchange of reloading, firing, reloading, and firing again, the thing finally had its ankle severed less than 200 yards from the tanks, before being torn apart and buried in the ground by a single shot from a tank cannon with its head down.

……

"No problem continuing, huh?"

"Why do I suddenly feel..." Before Jonathan could finish speaking, he looked at the distant farmland on his right and saw a shell flying towards him. He lost his balance and landed on the back of a tank. "Holy crap!"

Oh no, there's more than one newcomer here. Look at the formation coming from both sides. The shells are like they're trying to make the tanks pay. One tank shuddered and came to a stop, and some of the infantrymen were thrown to the ground.

"Our suspension is broken, we can't move!" Jonathan could hear the commander shouting loudly over the radio.

"Got it. Fire a smoke grenade straight ahead, turn right. Sergeant, tell your men to be careful!"

The tanks slowly turned around, continuing to retaliate against the enthusiastic newcomers. The infantry, on the other hand, suffered. They were far from being within the bazooka's firing range, and the M1919 machine guns were ineffective against the KMFs. The tanks were even less effective, and could only lie on the ground and quietly return fire.

"That's not enough!" The enemy's advance was thwarted by the tank guns, but the soldiers were not faring any better. A KMF armor-piercing round struck another tank, and with a series of rings, a burning hole was drilled into the frontal armor of an M4 tank.

"Sergeant," Captain Drucker called out, "the birds will be here soon, give them instructions!"

Amidst the chaotic landscape, a green smoke slowly enveloped the soldiers' uniforms. The convoy following behind had already raised their heavy machine guns—from the backseats of jeeps, and from the backs of the drivers' heads in trucks and half-tracks—and opened fire on anything moving that approached them. On the ground, this dazzling smokescreen and the rising green cloud were quite conspicuous.

Following closely behind the roaring bombers descending from the sky, the familiar silhouettes of Mustang fighters appeared once more, and everything fell silent—want to sneak up and remove the soldiers' ears? Well, let's see if the bombs will allow it.

"Roar!" The wild horses scattered the sprouting fire roses, giving an overly enthusiastic welcome to those dark steel shells. Spring is not far away, so let's plant them in the ground.

……

"what should we do……"

Looking at the smoke screen created by the tank guns in front of them, and then at the thick black smoke rising in the distance, the KMF pilots, who had just been soundly beaten on the front lines, felt a chill run down their spines.

"Hello? Your Excellency? Can you still hear me?" He tried to call out to the officers in the city behind him who were busy with the evacuation.

There was no response on the radio, but there were sounds coming from inside the smoke screen ahead.

"What?!" Looking up, the Chaffee tank painted with "peanut" rushed out and fired a shot at the person in front of it.

"Ah!" Amidst its companion's cries of agony, it, which had intended to raise its gun and aim, and which could have crippled the tank, was caught off guard and a step too late. With a nimble turn, the turret twisted, and the enemy was ripped apart first.

The tracks rolled on, and amidst the electric sparks emanating from the KMFs, the white smoke gradually dissipated, replaced by the tracks left by Sherman tanks and the footprints of soldiers marching forward, smashing aside all the scattered, destroyed corpses—whether of steel or flesh.

"Look at the ground, guys!" Jonathan shouted back to his recruits as he continued to pull the trigger of his machine gun. "Check those bastards for survivors. If they move, blow them to bits!"

"Aren't they dead, sir?"

"Are you a doctor or a barefoot doctor? You can tell at a glance, right? Or are you waiting for them to shoot?"

"Relax, buddy!" Hearing the tank commander's gleeful laughter, "They've escaped, Sergeant, they've escaped! Ha ha!"

"Oh..." The KMFs and assault guns began to reverse and retreat. As for those people in black military uniforms? They no longer cared about their dead or wounded comrades.

"Going to the city to cause us more trouble, huh?"

“Hello, Sergeant Campbell.” The radio crackled to life.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Watch your head."

"Huh?" As he spoke, he heard a tingling sensation on his head. In the distance, the streets and buildings of Bainburg began to boil over amidst the shells falling from the sky.

"Tell the tank drivers to slow down a bit, the artillerymen are coming to get involved."

"Huh? What did your boss say? Aren't we going to catch up with them quickly?" The train conductor looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, haha. Don't rush, sir, no rush." ​​Jonathan picked up his M2 heavy machine gun again, his expression menacing as he headed towards the fleeing enemy.

"Get out of here, you bastards! Get out of here now! Go back and tell your whore-son master that the First Red Division is back for you!"

Chapter 195, Section 265: Elbe River Alarm

Died of disease, died in battle...

Death can come from overwork, from unexpected accidents, from excessive blood loss, or from suffocation and shock. Whether in times of peace or war, the ways in which human life ends are always varied and commonplace.

Humans truly deserve to be called the most intelligent yet cruel creatures in the world, for they invented the even more mysterious and horrifying concept of euthanasia. This concept, like a parasite, has accompanied humanity from ancient Greece to the present day. Its absurd yet plausible motives and ingenious yet vicious methods cannot help but elicit admiration and approval from anyone—Nazi Germany was among them.

In the days when the swastika flag flew high, Bernburg housed an euthanasia center. Its scope was unparalleled—9384 patients and disabled persons from 33 welfare institutions and sanatoriums, and approximately 5000 prisoners from six concentration camps, were uniformly "rest in peace" in sealed rooms using carbon monoxide. And this was merely the "achievement" of this one center; such places were countless during Nazi Germany's most "glorious" period.

Now, passing the now-deserted Fort Bern euthanasia center, the land now haphazardly filled with the remains of the deceased, and the KMF that had just collapsed at the center's gate, the American soldiers, accompanied by green tin burrowers painted with white stars, slowly make their way towards Fort Bern Palace in the city center—a medieval castle flying the Britannian flag.

“Stay alert, guys.” Jonathan and his squad were in one of the teams. He stood on the back seat of a blood-stained jeep, taking over from one of his unfortunate comrades. “Get away from the center of the street, move to the side.”

"Captain?" He began radioing his superiors back home. "Tell me the truth, can we take this city today?"

“I’m behind here to keep my promise, not to go drinking, buddy. If we encounter difficulties, don’t force our way forward. There are still large troops behind us who need me to manage traffic. Besides, it’s not just the two companies from our direction that have already entered the city.”

"what?"

"Fort Bern is bisected by the Saale River, a tributary of the Elbe. We crossed the river and entered the city from the east bank, while the other group came from the west bank. Now, I take back what I said, Sergeant, you can completely ignore the entire regiment that's coming to support you from the rear and insist on quickly breaking through the various areas within the city. Perhaps you can reach the city center before the Pershing tanks on the west bank, huh?"

"Okay, as long as I..."

Just as Jonathan was about to chat with the captain for a bit, he heard an ominous sound coming from the house by the roadside.

"Scatter!" Before the words were even finished, the wall of the house by the roadside collapsed, and a blue-purple iron giant sprang out.

"Holy shit!" That was close! The KMF almost fired a burst of bullets at it. The sergeant quickly grabbed the heavy machine gun and blew off its arms and legs, watching in shock as the large coffin-like cockpit behind it flew away.

"Hey, boss!" Tommy was lying on the ground, hugging his M1919 machine gun and cursing, "We all told you not to panic, not to panic, but what's wrong with the tanks? What, are they rushing to dig up Hitler's family's ancestral graves? This isn't Berlin."

"Cough..." Since the words were implausible and the logic was flawed, Jonathan had no choice but to wave his hand and give up. He glanced uneasily at the messy street in the distance, then ordered the jeep to hide behind a pile of rubble, and told the running soldiers to prepare to search each building one by one.

"Karl, take Tommy with you, set up the machine gun in that window, and grab two more lads. The rest of you follow me, check this building first."

……

"Oh, so that's how it's used."

The new tanks and armored vehicles slowly rolled into the city, and Captain Drucker was finally able to catch his breath. He then retrieved some of the gadgets captured by the soldiers from the rear—PDAs. Britannian soldiers could use them to send messages to other military equipment via text input, rather than real-time voice. The viral spread of the Union Jack photo within the military was largely thanks to these PDAs.

"Hey! Captain!" The radio crackled to life; it was Jonathan and his men. "Where are the reinforcements? We've run into a huge enemy line on Luxembourg Street, so are the artillerymen sober yet?"

"Oh? You're only 800 yards away from Bainburg Palace? Good, Sergeant. If we get to the outer walls of the castle first, I'll do my best to promote you."

After saying that, he took one last look at the map coordinates and switched the radio to another channel.

"Company B calling Battalion Firing Command Post, firing mission, 600 yards north of Checkpoint 4, fire for effect! Over!"