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Page 167
"It's sunrise again, a beautiful day that should be a time for the citizens of the Empire in Area 11 to enjoy their lives. But the unfortunate reality tells me that there are always places the sun cannot reach, and there will always be those who do not know the sun's blessings and stubbornly choose to hide in the shadows."
"The flag of the Holy Britannian Empire has been flying over Tokyo Bay for eight years, yet there are still foolish and backward people who stubbornly try to take it away and destroy it. From any perspective, this flag represents absolute power, absolute power, and absolute justice. Those who oppose it are nothing more than inferior and despicable people who do not want to accept the changing times. Those who secretly want to overthrow the world can be called maggots. They can only silently gnaw on the filth in the sewers, dreaming of conquering the sky, but in reality, they are just waiting for the day they will rot."
"It is obvious that even the most despicable maggots can live for a month or two. For us, for the people of Britannia, every second a fly flies in front of us lives is a waste and an annoyance. Therefore, we must understand how important it is to drive these pests, these inferior beings who are not limited to the bloodline of Area 11, out of our lives."
"And we, here, will do our utmost for the peace of District 11, to fundamentally bring a peaceful and safe environment to the people of District 11. I, Major Heinhard Karlstadt, hereby declare our oath to you all."
"O eternal ruler of the world, I swear to you with loyalty and courage that we will engrave the name of the great emperor in our hearts, and we will fight resolutely against any dissidents in this world with all our might. As brave soldiers, we are always ready to give our lives for our oath."
"Now, on behalf of Earl Rosenberg, I hereby announce the official establishment of the Aryan Special Operations Unit of District 11 today!—"
……
As soon as he finished speaking, Davis looked up and saw that the two giant banners that had been rolled up outside the building had been untied. As the surging red waves flowed down, the Nazi eagle, the Iron Cross, and the black and white stripes danced wildly in the focus of the astonished American and Soviet officers and soldiers and the cameras.
Meanwhile, Schreiber, standing in front of the flagpole on the roof, smiled smugly as he slowly pulled the rope, raising the Ironblood Flag, which was constructed in the same way, into the air above Area 11.
“You must be joking…” Davis and Stasevich exchanged a stunned look.
“From today onwards,” Karlstadt began his closing remarks, “we will fulfill our duties: to monitor and investigate all those with rebellious tendencies, including but not limited to Honshu residents of Area 11, and to vet foreign soldiers serving in the Tokyo Concession, to ensure social stability in Area 11. At that time, we will become a sharp sword for maintaining order, executing anyone with ulterior motives.”
"Es lebe Deutshces Reich (Long live the German Empire), Sieg heil!"
"Sieg heil!" With the salutes from the German soldiers on both sides and the applause of the count and others, Karlstadt, having amassed an immense wealth of reputation amidst the varied expressions in their eyes, leisurely waved his right hand close to his ear, signaling that the salutes were finished.
"Tsk tsk, look at you..." The arrogant eyes and the sneer at the corners of their mouths were like countless blades piercing into the hearts of those people.
……
"Alright, let's begin."
After the ceremony, he called Gunther and Henrik together.
"The next step is for us to proactively search among the German civilians we have captured in Britannia for our original followers and supporters, and bring them in as well. In the future, there will be more and more American and Soviet soldiers, and even British, French, and Polish people. They are a very unstable presence for both us and Britannia, just like the native inhabitants of this island."
After all that, Karlstadt noticed a somewhat unpleasant look on Günther's face.
"Is there anything you need to hide?"
"Major." Yes, they had all been promised to have their original ranks restored. "You should understand what you're doing."
"Ah, deal with the Americans and Russians, they are enemies; cultivate friendships with Britannia, they are the enemies of enemies."
"But what you're doing now is tantamount to handing the German nation over to these foreigners who keep spouting 'all hail Britannia' to ruin. Don't you understand? What is our original intention in doing this now? To obtain greater rights and more freedom than the American and Soviet prisoners of war, isn't it? If things continue like this, sooner or later we won't even be able to write the word 'Deutsche'."
"I still don't understand what you mean, Captain."
"We're working for Britannia now, helping them deal with things in District 11. But what about later? Will we have to obey their every order? I know, Major, you're subtly praising Greater Germany in your speech, those people adorned in gold and silver. Do you think they'll treat us well when they find out?"
"So what are you thinking?" Henrik interjected. "Britania is someone we can rely on, now we..."
“If we continue to rely on this, we will say goodbye to Germany forever. To be honest, a few days ago I asked Count Rosenberg if we could return to Berlin, the capital of Germany, in the future. He told me that before there is peace in the 11th district, all our similar requests can only be called being too impatient. Do you understand what he means? He's treating us like laborers.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gunther. Britannia is willing to cooperate with us, but we need to show sincerity too. Besides, with such good conditions, wouldn’t it be a waste not to take advantage of them?”
“Oh, so you still have reservations about your friends from this other world.” Karlstadt stood up and patted him on the shoulder meaningfully. “These things can’t be rushed like this. In Germany, it’s never too late to have a feast.”
System notification: Congratulations to player Nazi Germany for achieving the achievement: The first foreign flag to fly in Area 11.
Chapter 198, Section 268: Adapting to the Night
Under the night sky over Fort Bern, the Stars and Stripes fluttered in the wind in this city where the fighting had subsided, and the bonfires lit by soldiers on the streets in the cold winter were inexplicably unsettling.
There were few electric lights on in the city. Looking out from the outskirts, one could only see faint halos of light reflected from the moonlight and snow, covering this lifeless forest of bricks and tiles.
"Phew, back to the hard times of a year ago."
Jonathan patrolled the northern outskirts of the city with Pat, followed by Tommy and another soldier. To make the operation easier, Tommy's M1919 machine gun was temporarily replaced with a BAR.
“German winters are still so cold.” Pat clenched his fist and breathed on it. “Thankfully, it’s not as annoying as it was a year ago.”
Yes, look at the heads of these soldiers—they're no longer wearing their own olive-green iron pots; now they're wearing the enemy's black stuff on their foreheads because something very important is integrated with it: night vision goggles.
"Ugh, it's a bit hot, huh?" Tommy couldn't help but lift up his night vision goggles and wipe the sweat from his eyes. "I should have taken off this thermal lining."
"Put on your watch and watch where you're going, you idiot." The sergeant couldn't help but curse a few times. "Right now, other people are wearing the same thing and staring at your ass."
“Hey, don’t say that, boss. At least two or three months ago in Berlin, and since we left Frankfurt recently, have you seen their snipers? The Ardennes fought the Germans for a day, which is equivalent to fighting them on foot for half a week.”
"That's why we need to be careful."
"what?"
"Be careful, their infantry might retreat faster than the Germans can charge towards us, understand?"
"Right, right, so the captain ordered us out to patrol the city walls for this? Huh? Honestly, have these aliens used all the methods they use to figure out infantry on their four- or five-meter-tall mad scientists?"
"So these weirdos can see you at night too, that's it." Jonathan paused. "But then again, we can pick up the helmets, but the tank crew... they can't just keep wearing these things while squatting in the water tank, can they? Are they supposed to tie these helmets to their periscopes?"
"Hiss." Pat couldn't help but chuckle. "I bet the engineers will just take it off the KMF's forehead and put it on a tank...wait!"
The young man let out a soft gasp, and the other three immediately squatted down and knelt on one knee on the cold snow.
"Sir, there are people up ahead." He said, pointing to the sergeant. "See that pit? There's someone standing in there."
"Ah..." Jonathan looked at it through the binoculars, then put the night vision goggles on. "It really is."
"Aren't we very close to the enemy's position?"
“How is that possible? It’s only four or five miles from the city. It’s impossible for them to build a fortified position overnight.” He continued to observe for a while. “Wait, something’s not right. It’s probably one of those enemies who escaped from Bainburg today.”
"what?"
“Look closely, this isn’t a bomb crater. Damn, we landed a fighter jet here, and it looks like these bastards thought it was safe here at night. They’re exhausted from running all this way. Luckily, they knew to have someone stand guard, instead of all of them just lying around.”
"So what do we do, sir?"
"Take his tongue. You and I will stay here. Tommy, Heller, you two sneak over there. If that brat on guard tries to fire or yell, Pat, kill him."
"Yes, sir."
Luckily, there were some bushes or something, so the two didn't get discovered. They crept up, covered each other's mouths, and stabbed each other in the neck. Then they gave a hand signal to the sergeant, and after counting, the four black dogs that were still snoring were disarmed and captured alive.
"Let's go, take them back." After tying the guys' hands tightly and gaging them, they were about to make their escape when they heard some noise in the distance.
"Is it windy?"
“No, that’s not right…shit.” Jonathan’s mind went blank as he suddenly realized something. “The KMF of Britannia, that’s the voice from the KMF…”
"Huh? Should we make a radio call to the captain?"
"Then why are you still standing there?"
……
"hurry up!"
Captain Drucker was in a panic—they weren't in the easily defensible city, but in a heavily fortified position on the outskirts of the city, and according to the sergeant's report, the enemy was actually sneaking in from the flank.
This is really bad. How did they manage to infiltrate so mysteriously and find the weak point? What if this is a sign of an enemy counterattack?
The captain dared not be negligent. Forget about keeping quiet, he ordered the mortar crew next to him to prepare the flares while loudly scolding the soldiers who were walking by without paying attention, warning them not to get hit by oncoming vehicles.
According to the sergeant's intelligence, there weren't many enemies, but the soldiers didn't have many heavy weapons to quickly switch fire, so they brought in this cool-looking thing—the M16 weapon carrier.
"Check weapons, get ready! Eight o'clock!" The M3 half-track stopped sideways behind the low wall, its body and the machine gun turret inside the vehicle, armed with four M2 .50 heavy machine guns, locked onto the puppets that were trying to hide in the snowy night, as flares fired from the mortars slowly descended with parachutes.
"Fire!"
As the four machine gun ammunition belts streaked with light and emitted a dull, drill-like echo, accompanied by the furious shouts of dozens of soldiers around them wielding their guns, the steel giants, who were cautiously advancing, began to be covered in sparks from each bullet.
While rifles and submachine guns are indeed difficult to injure the metal skin, that is no reason for the soldiers to hold their breath and hide in their foxholes without firing. The flying sparks, like a curtain of water falling on a rock under a waterfall, completely enveloped the tall figure. Such psychological pressure was not to be underestimated by the pilots.
Then came the .50 caliber bullets. Under the half-baked but powerful bombardment of the M2 heavy machine gun, the KMFs, with each empty shell casing thrown down, their armor and internal limb components were shattered and scattered on the snow like slowly collapsing rotten planks.
"Two down!"
The captain, hiding at a window of a distant house, observed a subtle shift in the situation—it seemed the enemy wasn't coming to fight to the death; the machine gun turrets were firing with gusto, and these few who arrived in robots didn't seem stupid either; not only were their formations scattered, but they also seemed to be trying to outmaneuver the machine gun turrets? The KMF was getting further and further away from the soldiers; it looked like they were abandoning their operation.
"Should we give chase, sir?"
"No, no." Through the binoculars, the shadow of the KMF grew smaller and darker under the reflection of the artillery fire, until it disappeared into the night, leaving only the burning wreckage in front of us.
……
"Hey." Jonathan's voice came through the radio, as the figures of people in the distance, illuminated by the firelight on KMF, were seen.
"What discovery, Sergeant?"
"This is really bad, sir. I just checked all these dolls and there are no survivors. I guess we won't be able to figure out their battle plan. I caught a few prisoners, but their communication devices are not working and we haven't been able to establish contact with their leader."
"Don't worry about it too much. A body that gets hit by a .50 caliber bullet is basically no different from mud. Come back."
"So, we've returned empty-handed?"
"No, Sergeant, your timely report saved at least 20 lives. Don't worry, your promotion is practically guaranteed."
Chapter 269, Side Story (VI): I'm Not Captain America
Texas, a wild land, nurtured a fierce people. Dallas was born in this inland land far from the coast. With the discovery of a large oil field in the 1930s, the wild heart hidden beneath the city streets was unleashed. Oil, arms, and airplanes filled the war machine of the United States of America with the unique explosiveness of the North American South, so that the Stars and Stripes could fly on the banks of the Rhine River.
With wild roots and wild warriors, countless citizens of Texas have killed countless Nazis and Showa era figures. Now, with the looming shadow of a new war, the "hospitality" of this land is naturally indispensable.
Sadly, wildness and fighting spirit, like the sun, cannot keep the Rio Grande sparkling forever.
……
In a Dallas hospital, this ward floor felt strangely desolate—the floor was not very clean, the benches were not very tidy, and even though the sun overhead could make the Rio Grande shine through, the sunlight could not penetrate any further here.
At the very end of the inpatient ward, two U.S. military police officers wearing "MP" armbands guarded the entrance, refusing entry to anyone except medical personnel.
On the newspaper clipper to the side, there was a newspaper that had been hastily stuffed back in. The first page, with its editor using the largest font and eye-catching large photos, boldly presented its message to its previous readers.
"...Today, right here at the Winspel Theatre in Dallas, our great hero promises to the world that he has donned his uniform again and is ready to defeat America's enemies once more. 'You may not be able to be like me, but America needs you to be the person it needs, the warrior who wins peace for it against its enemies, the cell that beats for its heart, and the great man who will celebrate victory with us after we have done what we can.'"
"...The brave Lieutenant Murphy has told us that the Stars and Stripes will be with us, with our victory, and that this despicable scarecrow called Britannia will eventually be thrown onto the grill, lit with the torches of our celebration, and traversed across this land."
……
Look at this lieutenant's numerous honors in the photo: Distinguished Service Cross, Silver Star, Medal of Merit, Bronze Star, Purple Heart, Medal of Good Conduct... there are so many that even the Medal of Honor, the highest honor for American soldiers, hanging around his neck seems a bit inadequate, and even the French Legion of Honour appears on his chest.
He was not Eisenhower or Patton, nor was he a great general or marshal like Montgomery, but his name moved even the Stars and Stripes—Audrey Murphy, for whom he made such great contributions during the World War.
……
On January 26, 1945, a burning M10 tank destroyer, armed with only an M2 heavy machine gun, fought for an hour against a German force several times its size.
Finally, when the belated reinforcements drove off the German offensive, he escaped unscathed, leaving behind a machine gun with empty ammunition, shell casings scattered all over the ground, bloodstains from leg wounds, and the mangled bodies of more than fifty German soldiers.
This was just the most glorious achievement of his European campaign. No one dared to say that they could do such a series of historic feats under the same circumstances. Naturally, Murphy became a hero of the whole country, returning victorious after a hundred battles and enjoying everything that the Medal of Honor brought him.
No one can imagine that Murphy's achievements were not aided by divine intervention...
But no one could imagine that this hero is now lying quietly in the ward behind these two military policemen, having taken his sleeping pills—only 165 centimeters tall and weighing 50 kilograms, he was like that when he participated in World War II, and when he shot Nazis; his youthful 20-year-old face hardly resembles that of a resolute hero.
On the bedside table, there was a comic book with a cover featuring Captain America from Marvel Comics beating Hitler in the face. But whether abandoned by time or by its reader, it was accidentally placed under a plate, covered in ugly grease stains.
Murphy slept peacefully here, his heart pounding, his pulse beating, and his breath coming in. Across the door, several rooms away, at a table, a general and a doctor were talking quietly.
……
His name is Maxwell Taylor, the famous commander of the 101st Airborne Division. After being disbanded a few months ago, he still has some things to do before he leads his lads back to Europe.
"Okay, doctor, this is on file at the Pentagon. So please tell me about Lieutenant Murphy, when he was brought to the hospital."
“That was a terrible day, General.” The doctor shook his head. “The lieutenant came here that day, doing his re-enlistment physical with the veterans. He seemed very worried, extremely worried, just like that hesitant young man at the recruitment center a few years ago… We initially thought his leg injury might be causing him disappointment, but after a series of investigations…”
"result?"