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"Report to the HMS London immediately." The lieutenant colonel felt a chill run down his spine. He glanced at the map. "This location, Rostock? What have these imposters turned the German submarine base into these days? A V2 launch site?"
"Where did they get a V2?" the adjutant muttered. "Besides, could this thing be heading towards London again?"
"Yeah, not bad."
"Good? How so?"
"It went to London, not HMS London, otherwise it definitely wouldn't have been able to hit anything."
"Emmmmmm..."
Just then, the radio suddenly rang.
"Norfolk calling Diaden, bearing 82 degrees, 4 miles away, approaching flying object!"
"What?!" The lieutenant colonel was startled, and soon the sailor in charge of observation relayed the news to him.
"Captain, the air defense radar has detected an object moving at high speed toward our ship!"
"All ships, prepare for Level 1 combat! All anti-aircraft gun crews on starboard side, open fire!"
The pitch-black sea was suddenly dispelled from its gloom by the light of the trailing ammunition and the large-caliber cannons, as if black coal had been illuminated and burned red by several torches. In the eyes of the sailors, they saw the people who were in charge of the show lighting up the sky.
After taking off, they slowly flew towards the sea, then raised their warheads to maintain a barely horizontal trajectory, flashing a bright blue light, like a meteor streaking across the German land, staring intently at the St. George flag above them.
Not every sailor subconsciously understood who this was. They simply stood at their posts as usual, listening to the gunner's orders and the roar of the cannons beneath them, watching the receding warheads with their eyes, waiting for news of the target turning into flames and falling into the water.
"One down!" One of the three meteors streaked across the sky in a trail of flame before exploding into a sea of debris. However, two more trailing flames remained, their tails fixed on the ship the sailors were clinging to. Their trails of fire resembled an inextinguishable wildfire, melting any incoming projectiles and seawater droplets within them.
"Enemy aircraft, 1.5 miles away!" Lieutenant Colonel Barrod and his officers stood quietly on the bridge, watching the direction from which the meteor had come, and slightly bent their waists and knees.
"Damn it, is it heading towards the Norfolk?!"
"Another one has been shot down... Oh no, Captain, this thing is coming towards us!"
"Prepare for impact!" Those on the bridge saw one of the rocket-like objects, trailing a streak of fire, slowly and erratically tracing its path through the air. The ship's originally straight course suddenly veered towards the bow of the Diaden, like a flagpole blown down by the wind.
The giant's spray surged from the sea like a humpback whale, engulfing the cruiser's starboard anchor and the twin gun turrets in front of the bridge. The Diaden, like a watermelon knocked askew by a wild boar, lurched and swayed in the muddy water as the bridge lights flickered. And the crew? Nothing more than stones under the boar's hooves, kicked and scrambled across the surface.
……
"The starboard side of the bow was near miss!"
"Everyone! Report the status of the ship's compartments!"
The principal breathed a sigh of relief, confirming that no fireballs had been lit on his beloved wife.
"Damn it, something's happened!" He remembered that he had indeed heard an explosion coming from outside, and he had indeed seen a bright light fly past the bow of the Diaden before it was hit.
"Hey! Look at the Norfolk!" Everyone looked to the port side, where the heavy cruiser had unfortunately become the number one casualty. The seaplane catapult in the middle of the ship was already a mess of burning dead leaves in the explosion.
"Jesus." It was indeed somewhat terrifying, because they hadn't even figured out what was appearing on the radar before things had turned out this way.
"Lights are on the London, gentlemen." Seeing the flashing lights on the flagship ahead, "Hard port, escort the Norfolk back."
……
Here are the catapults, gleaming and flaming, pushed into the sea; on the horizon, the dilapidated lighthouse of Rostock flickers alongside them.
This bustling city on the southern coast of the Baltic Sea was a warm nest for new ships when the swastika flag was flying. No one knows exactly how many bombs were dropped from planes, destroying countless bricks, concrete, and flesh and blood to annihilate the existence of the Nazi Party.
"OK, two out of three missiles hit their targets, and one was shot down mid-flight. The flight control system is functioning normally. Recording. We will confirm later whether any warships were sunk."
The smell of fuel still lingered near the missile launchers by the harbor as Britannian soldiers documented the results of their missile attack on British warships.
Meanwhile, General Windsor, accompanied by several officers, was preoccupied with other matters.
"OK, so this is the result of their 'Eternal Protocol' experiment, right?" The general looked at the video footage in front of him, where several naval landing craft were shuttling back and forth between two portals. "Not bad, at least I can be 50% at ease now."
The waterways of Rostock were heavily clogged due to the shadow of war. After more than six months, thanks to the "cooperation" of the occupiers from the East and the extraterrestrial visitors, some progress was finally made. Now, these people from another world have installed two massive electronic facilities in the harbor, which is six or seven hundred meters wide—for what is to come.
In an instant, golden threads, like ivy, coiled and climbed into the air. Suddenly, Rostock Harbor was filled with towering waves, and surging tides burst forth from the invisible gate, violently crashing against the seawall.
“General?!” Some officers asked Windsor to find a safe place, but clearly, the general was more concerned about that outcome.
As the sea calmed down, alarms sounded in the harbor, and a gleaming destroyer slowly appeared under the dazzling portico.
"Attention all ports, the destroyer 'Anna Selene' is passing through the portal." Surrounded by churning waters like mad dogs, this behemoth, 180 meters long, was finally able to fully take its place in this world.
"Anna Selene has completed the transfer and is checking the overall ship status." The destroyer did not stop and continued to slowly sail out of the harbor, while opening the platforms on both sides of the warship, and KMF figures emerged from them.
……
"Well, it's good that the warships are in normal condition." The teleportation was completed, and the door was temporarily closed. After the two destroyers left the port, they circled the nearshore waters and turned around before finally returning to their berths in Rostock.
"This will be the Navy's first step. When the time is right, they will head east to support the capture of Rügen Island. Even though the port's equipment is not yet fully repaired, the dock is broken, and the cranes are broken, keeping them here will solve the root of the problem."
Chapter 222, Section 297: Keeping Warm
Winters in Europe are long and tedious; nobody knows when spring will arrive in Germany.
Hiding in a small town 20 kilometers east of Magdeburg, few people would venture west to the Elbe River—before nightfall, this road becomes a daily haunt of warplanes painted with white stars and concentric circles, carrying wounded returning from Magdeburg, trucks and equipment heading to Magdeburg; death's dice leave the living with far too few points.
At night, there was the rumbling of siege from the opposite bank of the river, and radio waves flying over. Of course, the area within a few kilometers on the east bank of the river could be harassed by American and British artillery.
It's been 20 days. Under the strangulation of the armies of the three most energetic countries in District 45, even seeing the sun rise the next day while still panting is something to celebrate. Who can sleep peacefully?
Unfortunately, I was too tired, too exhausted. My spirit was completely depleted. Anyone in this state would probably collapse on the ground and fall asleep immediately.
……
"OK, it's been 39 hours since I last woke up..."
Griffin planned to lie down for a while, but this time it wasn't the well-equipped Knights' quarters near Berlin that he usually visited.
The situation was becoming increasingly dire. He and his female companions had been holding out over the river for an unknown amount of time—the vehicles on the ground needed their protection, the fighter jets in the sky needed their protection, and Berlin, less than a hundred kilometers behind them, needed their protection even more. The prolonged high-intensity combat and extremely uneven rest periods were almost draining every member of the Knights of Agincourt.
This time, they weren't sleeping on soft beds. The air raids had made even the placement of wounded soldiers a problem, let alone intact frontline quarters. Just a few buildings away was their KMF maintenance area. To save as much time as possible, they lay in this wine cellar, no different from the haphazardly piled wooden crates—across from them were another group of exhausted young men sleeping on wooden planks.
Each of the five people took a blanket. Lilizia wrapped herself up in a ball and sat in the corner with her head down. Xixi'an and Julia sat shoulder to shoulder in front of an empty wine barrel. The latter watched as the other's blanket slipped down and gently helped lift it up before closing her eyes.
As for Angelina, she simply placed a plank on top of a few barrels and lay down to sleep, saying that the barrels would tip over during an air raid and effectively wake her up—perhaps this was an advantage of being short.
"Damn it, why can't I sleep again all of a sudden..." Griffin lay on the floor, his tired eyes twitching like uneasy nerves. "Honey, are you still awake?"
"Hmm, I'm waiting for your bullshit." Angelie's voice was indifferent.
"So Her Highness did drive away the bombers heading to Berlin a few days ago, but why..."
"Why doesn't she come to the Oder River herself to lead us to victory? There is only one Princess, and she is not invincible."
How do you know so much?
"It seems like they've lost some of their resolve by not escorting the Knights of the Round Table in battles in District 45 a few times." The girl sighed and rolled her eyes.
"Fine, fine, so you mean give up on treatment?" As he spoke, Griffin suddenly noticed his lover's pilot uniform on the wooden tub next to her. Although it was somewhat damaged and battered, it was neatly folded and placed there—of course, she was definitely sleeping in it; it was just her everyday clothes. "This?"
“Do you know how useless this thing is?” Angelie, understanding perfectly, slowly extended her right arm, showing Griffin the burns wrapped in bandages. “From now on, take some of your aces and suggest to the higher-ups that we stop equipping ourselves with these cheap clothes.”
"Why? Isn't it amazing?"
"At least, next time I get injured, there will be more fabric to tear off to bandage the wound..."
……
"This news... is terrible..."
Berlin was also in a state of sickness at this time. Duke Sasler, accompanied by several generals, looked at the map and shook his head.
"The Soviet army has begun its northward offensive from the south on the west bank of the Oder River, heading straight for Kostchen... Is the defense line on the upper Oder River about to fall...?"
“This is terrible, Your Grace. Even though Edward III’s army has returned, the Soviet troops on the Elbe can’t get back in time, and with the Oder River on fire, the danger south of Berlin is unlikely to improve much. Why is Her Highness Elizabeth unwilling to personally lead the attack and stop the ground offensive?”
"It seems she has truly grown up, become more vigilant than others..." The Duke took a meaningful breath. "Do you all still remember the tragedy of Tristan and Mordred?"
"Are you saying that Her Highness the Princess is also worried about Silver Dove?"
“If the commander dies, the army will either collapse or fall apart. The expeditionary force can do without the Hadron Cannon, the Knights of the Round Table, or even the KMF, but they absolutely cannot lose their most suitable commander.” He paused. “In terms of experience, she is no match for Lord Gino. She herself understands that Tristan will return battered and bruised, but what about Lancelot the Judge? The Silver Dove may have disappeared for a long time, but could there be a second, even more terrifying dove?”
"So, what does the Duke mean?"
"Hurry up and prepare to have the troops defending the southern front retreat to the defensive line 50 kilometers south of Berlin. No matter how exhausted these army groups and corps are, they are still seasoned warriors. They must survive, even if they face an offensive that is more ferocious than the Soviet attack a month or two ago."
"To retreat in an orderly manner while braving the possible fierce storms of the Soviet army... Your Excellency, this is quite a difficult task, isn't it?"
“Whether it’s difficult or not is one thing, whether Her Highness Elizabeth is determined to do it is another matter.” The Duke smiled faintly. “Let’s go, let’s make things clear to Her Highness at the meeting, and by the way, I can recommend someone to take charge of the strategic retreat.”
……
"This is an opportunity, but also a challenge, General."
As the sun began to set, General Malendor and Carrie, having been away from the shadows for a long time, arrived at the Spree River in downtown Berlin.
"Yes, I'll guide this retreat then..."
"I hope you will no longer say that someone is trying to harm you."
“The environment can change people, Colonel. I will not do that again.” The general sighed. “The existence of District 45 has been trying its best to turn the sharp edges of our internal conflict toward the guns of the US and the Soviet Union. It’s not because we were forced to stop the debate, but because we have shortcomings, very shortcomings… Generals, you still understand that we have a long way to go and we need someone to push forward the steps of those who have already taken them.”
"Well, even if your table gets smashed, the notebook in your hand won't be destroyed, right?"
Where did the handwritten words in Marendo's hand come from? Looking west along the riverbank, the familiar yet unfamiliar Britannian flag still flutters beside the tombstones of several high-ranking officers, passing by the name the general remembered.
"When the Soviet army retreated north in panic, I thought we no longer needed to follow your advice to be cautious, but it turns out we are not in a position to be happy... When will you reappear before us with another name, Lieutenant Colonel?"
Chapter 223, Section 298: Scythes Clash with Cavalry Swords
There will always be bushes and shrubs on the earth. Even if thousands of warplanes and artillery fire were used to plow through them over months or years, it would not be easy to wipe them out completely.
Whether intentionally or unintentionally, some bushes and shrubs will always escape the flames and swords, because they may benefit the enemy or themselves.
With the engine roaring off, no one knew that a T-34 tank was hidden there—along with a large group of Soviet soldiers, gazing at the distant highway and a road sign in English that read "65 kilometers from Berlin." Of course, there was also an infantry fighting vehicle destroyed by the roadside, lying beside a group of Britannian soldiers who had died tragically.
"The mission is indeed arduous." Indeed, Anton, a captain and company commander, was personally leading the team to participate in this mission. What was the objective? Naturally, it was to ambush the enemy. Enemy troops frequently marched south towards the front lines or north towards Berlin from this road, and their choice of this location was not merely for that reason; they had happened to encounter this thing on their infiltration route.
"If any enemy KMF cockpits are found to have detached and been left on the battlefield, be sure to examine them carefully and make the most of them."
This is an instruction given by the superior to the entire army. Why are these things so important that Anton and his men went to great lengths last night to push them into the bushes and hide them? Looking at the open cockpit door, perhaps the young comrade sitting in front of the glowing electronic screen can answer that question.
Anton possessed a device the enemy called a decryption card, which could crack the KMF's power-on password. The KMF's power supply system and cockpit were integrated together—regardless of the design's complexity, at least once the screen in the cockpit lit up, you could view the electronic tactical map, turn off the identification signal button, and thus hide there to spy on the battlefield.
However, there is a prerequisite: you must have a colleague around you who knows a few English words.
“This stuff is so exciting, Captain.” The young man laughed as he watched Anton bend down to come in. “We’re just short of sending the footage to Berlin, seeing where that girl with the lisp is hiding, and then delivering bottles of vodka laced with poison to her all over the streets and buildings.”
"Forget it, what if they're so rich and powerful that they wouldn't even look down on the tiny sip we get every day? Haha." He casually wiped the mud off his face. "You just took over Hadrodov's job, did he teach you how to use it?"
"I know, I know." The young man zoomed in and out of the screen a few times. "So you're just waiting for those blue arrows to appear?"
"Yes, yes, yes." As he spoke, he suddenly noticed something seemed off about the screen.
"What is this? My God, did they come from the highway?"
"We've got something to do... Everyone get ready and listen to my orders."
Anton, wearing a helmet covered in leaves, watched a group of people approaching from afar through binoculars.
"Hmm, this time the fish seems a bit big? And a bit fat?" Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a squad of brightly colored KMFs accompanying several trucks heading south to the front lines—let's do the math, we've got the two high-value elements, Aces and supplies, now we should be worried about how to deal with the enemy's numbers.
"Let me see which one looks like the leader, hmm?" The team stopped to inspect the infantry fighting vehicles. It was time for the T-34 tanks to rotate their turrets. The commander looked through the periscope, trying to distinguish the paint schemes. "Ah, there's one with gold trim that looks a lot like it. Come closer, come closer. Yes, it's in line with the truck... Captain Anton, can you guess what's on the truck?"
“The wounded can only go north, military facilities are unlikely to be going to the front now, and there’s no need for so many people to protect food and medicine. So, perhaps it’s the precious weapons?”
"Alright, I'm about to fire. Oh, Captain, the DShK machine gun's ammunition box seems to be misplaced. Could you move it to the side?"
……
At that moment, a squadron of Yak-9 fighters was escorting another squadron of Il-10 attack aircraft, flying far away under the clouds.
"Is the intelligence wrong?" The fighter squadron leader looked around. "I don't see any enemy ground forces."
"So, shall we fly back? Or shall we circle around for a bit?"
"Hey comrades! 7 o'clock!" He seemed to hear something subconsciously and turned around in shock. In the distance, the woods seemed to be erupting with bright sparks, red, orange, or green, like blood flowing from an artery cut open by a butcher's knife.
……
"Oh, that's quite unexpected."
Anton and his comrades had no choice but to bury themselves in the grass—an AP shell from the T-34 tank had just pierced the body of the magnificent humanoid weapon, drilled through the truck's shell, and turned the black iron box into an incredibly dazzling firework.