Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

Page 210

At that moment, Garcia noticed that when Clark rushed out, a letter fell out of his pocket.

"Huh?" It says "Remember to tell your superior" on it. It seems Clark forgot to mention something.

"Oh, this is the organizational chart of their 45th District Expeditionary Force." Then there was a line of small print at the end, which seemed to indicate that the expeditionary force was planning to airdrop leaflets to the US and Soviet forces.

“Sir,” Garcia narrowed his eyes, “I suddenly have an idea.”

Chapter 274 One-Way Ticket Home (Part 1) (Section 356)

Count Rosenberg and Karlstadt were summoned to Governor Nunnally, and the guards opened the doors to the meeting hall for them.

It was these two guards again, who once again stumbled upon a tense meeting while on duty. One had a familiar plump figure, and the other wore a familiar red scarf.

You can clearly hear Suzaku and Nunnally's questioning and Karlstadt's defense, a fierce verbal battle.

The corridor where the two were standing was unusually quiet, except for a girl sitting quietly on a chair next to them. She was dressed in a black military uniform, and at first glance, one might mistake her for a member of the Aryan Special Forces, just like Karlstadt.

"When did the Germans hire a young lady?" The girl curled up, holding her head, as if she were exhausted or had just woken from a nightmare. "This mental state... is very mysterious."

……

Accompanying Suzaku were Gino, also a Knight of the Round Table, and several police chiefs from the Tokyo Concession.

It all started this morning when Schreiber, the main character in the story who was absent, arrived in a truck with a group of special forces men in black who had just finished their night shift. They stopped in front of a restaurant.

They only saw the chef's hat logo on the signboard and didn't pay much attention to the restaurant's name. The captain and another German soldier went in together, and without even looking at the menu, they ordered two of the restaurant's signature dishes to take away.

"Okay, two salad sandwich balls, please." The shop owner scribbled on the table and looked up to ask, "Would you also like hummus, gentlemen?"

Schreiber didn't answer him because both of their attention was focused on the menu—salad sandwich balls, hummus, tortillas, eggs from North Africa, shawarma… How come all of these are Middle Eastern stuff?

The captain looked up at the shopkeeper: black eyes and a slightly hooked nose, with sparse beard and hair on his cheeks and above his lips, he was looking at the two of them with a puzzled expression.

"Oh ho ho, don't be nervous, I just think this style looks pretty good." Schreiber replied with a grin, then circled his hand around the shop owner's head. "Your hair is so curly and black, it's beautifully permed. Where did you get it done?"

"No, no, sir, my hair is naturally curly."

"Is that so? That makes things easier." Schreiber gave a cold smile and winked at the German soldier next to him, signaling him to leave.

When the shopkeeper handed him the food, he saw all the German soldiers in black rushing in. Schreiber leisurely rummaged through the sandwich ball and pulled out a small pebble that he had been hiding in his hand for a while.

"There seems to be something wrong with what you're selling." The captain revealed a devilish smile. Before the shop owner and the shop assistant behind him knew what was going on, two German soldiers swept everything off the counter and overturned it inside.

"Grab this old man and the other men behind him, pull down their pants and check for circumcision."

……

The morning on this street was too abrupt. Before the passersby knew what was going on, they saw that the restaurant, guarded by two special agents at the entrance, had become a mess inside. No one dared to enter the shop. Then, the two agents threw the owner out from behind the shop window.

The soldiers, while escorting the people, also grabbed whatever food they could find and loaded it onto the truck. As for Schreiber, he brazenly directed the soldiers to grab everyone in the store and put them on the truck. He then leisurely pulled a yellow marker from his pocket, drew a six-pointed star on the store entrance, and prepared to slip on.

He got into the passenger seat, ready to close the door and start the truck, when he heard a loud bang. Schreiber realized he couldn't close the door and saw a sword blade stuck in the door seam and the steering wheel.

"Who dares to be so bold? Ouch!..." He pushed open the door, about to curse, when a hand grabbed his collar and threw him onto the road.

The driver, seeing that something was wrong, thought someone was blocking the road and called to the people in the back to get out of the car with their guns. They found that it was a girl holding a handguard sword. Schreiber was lying on the ground with the girl's boot heel pressed against his neck.

"You're the team leader, right? Tell me, what crime did this shop employee commit?"

The girl's sword was still pointed at Schreiber's temple, while her other hand slowly pulled out a pistol, confronting the crowd.

More and more civilians gathered on the street to watch, and the team members dared not fire their guns indiscriminately.

"Release the captain! Do you hear me?!"

The girl's military insignia on her sleeve and the headband with medals tied around her short white hair, along with her unique military uniform color scheme, already proved her extraordinary background. The previous incident on the night of the Olympic torch and the governor's severe punishment further restrained the team members. Bullets don't have eyes, and the consequences of causing trouble would be no joke.

What? You're asking why we were so reckless when we smashed the shop? At least we had Schreiber, the ringleader, backing us up, so we didn't beat them to death. But this situation is life-threatening, and it'll be hard to get blamed for it.

"Instructor Lütjens!" Several men dressed as privates quickly emerged from the crowd. "We've called the police. What are your plans now?"

"Help me call in all the military forces I can, and say it's in the name of the Knights of Agincourt."

……

"Captain Schreiber is currently in custody, and all team members involved are under closed investigation." Back to the present, Suzaku is conveying Nunnally's wishes, "Is it true, Lieutenant Colonel Karlstadt? Is there really a problem with the food at this shop? Or is it simply because the team members reported that there were Jewish employees that they took violent action?"

"Why would our Aryan Special Forces wrong innocent civilians, Your Excellency?" Karlstadt's reaction was remarkably calm. "The Night of the Holy Flame certainly had many aspects worthy of criticism, but who can deny that members or supporters of the Black Knights were indeed infiltrated during that operation? All we did was safeguard the security of Area 11, and even the Imperial territory."

"So destroying civilians' property and personal safety can be called justice?!" Suzaku shouted. "What's the difference between you and ZERO who uses lies to cover up their crimes? Laws and regulations are not for you to do whatever you want."

“If you’re not satisfied, then I’ll call in the eyewitnesses.” A sheriff also seized the opportunity to criticize, “Lieutenant Lilizia is right outside the door. She and her trainee were nearby when your men started making their move. Want to hear who’s telling the truth?”

When Lilizia came in to corroborate her testimony, Gino, who was listening in, had a look of doubt on his face—not about the facts she was stating, but about her expression as she spoke.

"What's wrong?" Suzaku wanted to know too, after all, Gino had mentioned awarding her a medal.

“How did I write on the recommendation letter… ‘Possessing chivalry, dedicated to duty, her eyes filled with the name of justice’…” Gino shook his head. “Now, she feels to me like a police officer in a hospital bed giving instructions to a colleague. Although she still has a heart for justice, that upright demeanor is gone… Lieutenant, what happened to you…”

……

"Damn, this is awesome! Schreiber is in jail, and the Aryan Special Forces have been stripped of their powers and banned from participating in any operations. They're practically non-existent now... This is so realistic."

After the two guards finished their duties at the city hall, they were sent to patrol the streets.

"They brought this on themselves," the fat man chuckled. "Who told them to keep acting so arrogantly after burning down a street? If Governor Nanali had been tougher on them, they probably would have all been dragged to the execution ground and shot."

"Then let's help each other stir up some trouble and call Her Highness Elizabeth back to take a look," said the woman in the red scarf, munching on fried chicken and raising an eyebrow.

"Why? And do you think the two of us can bring the princess back? We must be dreaming."

"Didn't you understand what I meant?" The woman with the red scarf put the cardboard box away. "The casualties of the Expeditionary Force in District 45 are reportedly approaching one million. Half of them, okay?"

"I still don't understand..."

“Your comprehension is so embarrassing.” The woman with the red scarf covered her face helplessly. “Just imagine, Her Highness Elizabeth was so conflicted during the battle, and then when she came back and found out what the Aryan Special Forces had done, the entire expeditionary force would probably be completely unable to sit still against the people of District 45, and then the prisoners of war would start to suffer madly.”

"Pfft, how could this even touch?"

At that moment, the two saw an infantry fighting vehicle parked on the street in front of them, with surrendered soldiers from District 45 busy on it.

"Hey! Sir, come over here for a moment!" Oh, it's Stasevich and his men. "I have a favor to ask. Our infantry fighting vehicle is broken down, and you..."

“Please stop, friend,” the man with the red scarf interrupted him. “We don’t fix cars.”

“I mean, I want you all to come with me to arrest someone,” Stasevich explained. “We’ve been ordered by our superiors to drive here and arrest someone. You see, right now it’s just me…”

"Oh." The woman with the red scarf suddenly realized. "That's alright then. Also, this infantry fighting vehicle has become your exclusive property?"

"Oh, that's right, this car is ours now, so we painted it with an emblem. Of course, we're not allowed to paint our own national flag, so..."

Hmm, this logo looks a bit strange no matter how you look at it—they can't paint a hammer and sickle emblem, so they painted two crossed sickles with the blades facing upwards, and then painted a skull in the blank space between the blades, with a five-pointed star left on the forehead.

"I...can't speak." The man in the red scarf's face remained stiff. "Never mind, let's go."

……

Upon reaching the construction site, the man in the red scarf tapped on the glass of the guard post, calling out to the guard.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"what?"

“We’re looking for an American, William Blanco from POW camp A33. We’re going to take him for tea.”

"Blanco?" The two men in the guard booth looked at each other for a moment, then began flipping through the roster. "Hey, there really is such a person? What did he do?"

“He is suspected of stealing cash and valuables from an officer, and we need to take him in for questioning,” Stasevich explained.

The guard led them to the soldier who was working, and the red scarf was the first one to be pulled up.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Blanco exclaimed innocently. "I'm innocent!"

"Bullshit!" The red-scarved man pulled out a rope and tied Blanco's hands together. "Go, you beast."

……

As soon as we left the construction site, infantry fighting vehicles arrived.

“Sorry, comrade, we’re too lazy to call by radio,” Chicherin shouted. “Get on, we’re going back now.”

The tank drove away, and the cockpit was a bit cramped. There was a large box inside, which meant that Red Scarf and Fatty could only sit in the outermost seats, while Stasevich and Blanco sat close to them.

"That's a bit strange. You people are now allowed to arrest your own 'compatriots'?"

“Heh, well, there’s no way around it, we’re just too dedicated.” Stasevich smiled smugly. “After all, we do a much better job than the people from District 11, right?”

"So what are you planning to do with this thing then?"

"We'll see, but we won't just hit people randomly." Stasevich's eyes looked a little panicked as he patted Blanco's head, but the boy didn't resist much.

Just then, the tank suddenly began to shake violently and then came to a stop.

"Comrade, there's a problem," Ivanov called out over the radio. "It seems we've run over something alive."

"What?" The two guards were a little puzzled, but they didn't move, just in case something went wrong.

"Um... if you two don't mind, could you get off the bus together and take a look?" Stasevich looked a little nervous, but not like she had done something wrong; it was more like she was hiding something.

The woman in the red scarf hesitated for a moment before opening the car door. However, to her surprise, Ivanov suddenly appeared at the door.

"Rua!" Before they could react, the man in the red scarf and the fat man were knocked unconscious by two Soviet soldiers, one inside and one outside the vehicle.

Chapter 275, Section 357: One-Way Ticket Home (Part 2)

"You did a very good job, comrade."

Stasevich untied Blanco, and Chicherin and Ivanov were busy, one stuffing the unconscious soldier into the cabin, and the other opening the boxes in the cabin, from which came out a man dressed as an ordinary civilian.

“Oliva, get to know each other, you’re unlikely to see each other again.” Stasevich instructed him, “Come on, you two put on each other’s clothes first.”

This was a very empty road, with no pedestrians or vehicles, and surrounded by low walls. As for what Chicherin had just stepped on, it was just a curb on the sidewalk.

“I think someone has already told you about the plan.” Stasevich pointed to the prisoner-of-war uniform that Blanco had changed out of, which was printed with a gray American flag and Blanco’s name. “Oliva, from today onwards you are no longer a civilian and are a member of the American POWs. Your task from now on is to replace him in the POW camp.”

"What should I be careful about? I'm afraid I'll give myself away." Oliva scratched his head.

“Don’t be nervous. Blanco is just a private who marches on foot and doesn’t really stand out. Usually, people of his rank won’t bother with him after a quick check.” Stasevich said, handing Oliva a slip of paper. “According to this, there are only a few rules in the POW camp that are slightly stricter than those in the civilian wards. As long as you don’t cause trouble, you’ll be fine.”

"What about me?" Blanco asked, looking somewhat worried after changing his clothes.

“Calm down, comrade. Oliva is from the same world as us. He only agreed to cooperate after he learned that we were going to save everyone.”

“Hmm,” Oliva continued, “There’s good food and nice clothes here, but so what? No matter how luxurious it is, it’s still enemy territory. No matter how desolate Berlin is, it’s still my home.”

“He has passed the inspection of the civilian detention area and is now free. His English is also up to standard.” Stasevich took out a map, then pushed out a folding bicycle, a business card, and a note from the box where Oliva was hiding.

“We’re here. Now go to this place. When you get there, give your business card to the waiter at the restaurant and say you’re looking for Uncle Sam. There, you’ll meet a fellow countryman from America who is also like you. After exchanging the password, he’ll tell you what to do next.”

"Thank you, Mr. Stasevich. What are you going to do now?"

“First, take these two dark-skinned men to the hospital. We also need to take Mr. Oliva to get a haircut. After all,” Chicherin pointed to Oliva’s curly hair and Blanco’s buzz cut, “shave his head and wrap it with a bandage to make it look like he’s been beaten. After a while, everyone will forget what’s on your head.”

"Thank you, I understand."

"Good luck, comrade, you are our only hope."

……

It was alright. After riding my bicycle around the Tokyo Concession for a long time, bumping and wobbling, I finally found the restaurant.

The waiter came into the office first, gave him the business card, and then led Blanco to him.

“Hmm.” Just as the waiter was about to leave, Clark gestured for him to stay beside him and asked warily, “Excuse me, are you from California?”

“Hmm…” This is a code word exchange. Blanco is a little nervous. “No, I’m from Wisconsin.”

"That's a great place, so I'd like to add some things to my itinerary."

"I only suggest that you don't pitch a tent by Lake Michigan. It would be better to get a canoe and spend a quiet night on the water."

Clark waved for the waiter to leave, only revealing his excitement after the office door closed.

"It's so nice to see you, sir. Did anyone follow you on your way here?"

"I...I...I'm a little excited too! It's so strange that there's a California here, hahaha!" The soldier couldn't help but hug him. "May I ask your name?"

"26th Infantry Regiment, 1st Infantry Division. Just call me Clark."

"Oh, I'm from the 8th Infantry Division. I can hardly believe you've hidden such a treasure trove here?"