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When the last Comet tank struggled to emerge from the pile of tanks and KMF wreckage, it swayed like a tractor, billowing smoke, before collapsing beneath the muzzle of a distant, resounding cannon.
Bruno was busy at the weapons testing grounds in Oranienburg for the past half hour, but as soon as he heard that the princess had personally told him that his artillerymen were going to have a tough battle, he came over immediately.
Of course, a weapons designer isn't there to dictate how to fight. Recording combat data and identifying weapon problems is a responsibility no less important than that of a skilled commander.
"The artillery is much smoother to operate than before, isn't it?" Bruno noted down the soldiers' descriptions, occasionally following their pointing fingers and looking up at the mess in the distance.
"Then, when facing tanks that run very fast and are very agile, is the maximum rotation speed of the steering and elevation mechanisms insufficient?" This was something he hadn't considered—after all, his team had spent their entire lives using the resources at their disposal to create fewer than 20 cannons, all for dealing with heavily armored targets.
The Comet, an opponent that even assault guns and KMFs could handle, was indeed not the main task. However, his long-standing mindset in District 45 gave him another question: what if one day the world's enemies could actually create a mobile monster that carried armor more terrifying than the Minotaur, yet could still go up and down hills like a roller coaster?
"Since Her Highness the Princess has promised to find a way to provide me with financial support, then I might as well go for it." As he thought this, he returned to the thoughts in front of him—the officers and soldiers were all offering him their ideas on what level of quality the transport vehicles for these towed artillery pieces should be.
……
Those passing by on the Air Force's KMF (Kings of Military Affairs) could easily mistake him for a war correspondent as he was writing notes—indeed, a rare and exhilarating victory had inspired every soldier in the Expeditionary Force, and even Major Mayer, usually stern and unsmiling, had a slight smile on his lips this time.
"After this mission, we can finally get a good rest. Let's keep going, brothers and sisters."
They escorted the jet fighters over the battlefield, heading straight for the Lüneburg Bridge. The heavily wounded paratroopers had already fought the British to a standstill at both ends of the bridge, and they needed the help to extinguish the enemy's last gasp of resistance.
The fighter jets' rockets scattered, taking away the last pulse of the battle on the ground. They hovered there quietly, wary of anything that might still be intent on destroying the bridge, until General Windsor's troops arrived in the distance, weary from their journey.
……
"Calling Captain Sheffield, the entire NATO force is retreating from the Lüneburg line. All members of the 32nd Panzer Regiment, including you, must hold their positions until air cover arrives."
"What? What do you mean by 'air cover'?"
Does this mean that the Cowboys are now so short-handed that they can only cover their retreat?
Sheffield received no further information: while he was anxiously fighting with his men, the British 7th Armoured Division had already made an emergency retreat, and more British infantry divisions had begun to retreat westward, even away from Lüneburg, towards Hamburg.
As for the other units of the US 3rd Armored Division, they also began to move towards the defensive line south of Lüneburg and did not continue to advance eastward. At present, the entire Northern Union army can only retreat cautiously to defend key points in order to avoid a complete defeat. They no longer have the resources for a large-scale counterattack.
In the wilderness east of Lüneburg, abandoned fields became rivers of blood, and shady forests became tombs of steel. Every weapon embodied the meaning of "ordinary expendable items on the battlefield."
While the M26 tank was sturdy and reliable for the US military, the KMF and assault guns were barely usable for Britannia. A single 90mm shell easily took down the machine adorned with the lion and serpent emblem, but it was quickly replaced by something else that retaliated against the US tank.
Sheffield and his men did their best; the burning wreckage only increased on both sides. However, these otherworldly visitors did not stop their westward rampage. This time, they were acting like mad bulls, excessively ferocious and aggressive.
"We're about to die!" Shells kept hitting their Super Pershing. Allen, sitting in the front driver's seat, was so shocked that his throat and tongue went numb. He could even see the two layers of hollow steel plates in front of the vehicle, with some of the welds cracking.
"Hold your ground, lads!" Sheffield, with only half his head sticking out, was nearly clogging the hatch hinges with mud flying everywhere. "How many shells do we have left, Dunn?!"
"Eight high-explosive shells, and thirteen armor-piercing shells left!" Dunn gritted his teeth, looking as if he wanted to devour each of those 11-kilogram shells alive. "How the hell is this battle being fought? I haven't even taken a single bullet on the battlefield, and I'm already exhausted!"
The Super Pershing's turret was unbearably hot, and the toxic fumes from the gunpowder from the shells were difficult to dissipate. The crew were as anxious as ants on a hot pan; if they relaxed even slightly, their vehicle might be in danger.
The tank was hit by another shell, this time on the lower right side of the turret front. The blast wave caused Sheffield to slip and fall headfirst into the turret.
“Calling! Calling…” The radio also turned into static at this critical moment, but fortunately it was drowned out by the rumbling of the plane engines overhead.
The American warplanes finally arrived, dropping incendiary bombs on the barren, withered fields in front of the Britannian's aggressive lines. Flames erupted, barely obscuring the vision of the two armies locked in fierce combat.
"This is the 'Firebird' they promised us?" Sheffield climbed out of the hatch, wiping his sweat, somewhat incredulous. "Never mind, let's take the guys who can still be moved back first... Sanderson? Sanderson?"
"He's passed out, boss!" Allen also noticed something was wrong and quickly checked on the guy who was slumped in the radio operator's seat with his eyes rolling back.
“Drag him to my seat, Dunn, you’re the strongest! I’m going to fix the wireless machine!”
"Oh, you son of a bitch..." the loader cursed as he dragged Sanderson over, his face pressed against the commander's buttocks, managing to wipe the sweat from his head and neck. "Damn it, was I a reindeer pulling Santa's sleigh in my past life?"
……
At this time, Caronville was on the east bank of the Travessee – opposite was the already war-torn city of Lübeck. The colonel and a team of Canterbury artillerymen scrambled to board transport vehicles to avoid the impending British artillery counterattack and air raid.
He had already heard about the progress made by Windsor and Lord Hohenzollern in another direction. Although they had not yet formed an encirclement, the Northern Union forces in Lüneburg were doomed, and the British 11th Armoured Division near the bridge was busy retreating westward along both banks.
Now, the two army groups are split into two routes, one continuing its assault on Lüneburg, preparing to advance on Hamburg from the south.
The second force, which had rapidly crossed the Elbe, split into two directions: one was to complete the encirclement of Hamburg from the north, and the other was to launch an attack along the Trave River to quickly capture the crumbling Lübeck—the British troops in the city now seemed to be busy retreating to the west and north.
The offensive is progressing so smoothly and effortlessly with such ample troop strength, which is quite a pleasant surprise.
However, the British warplanes roaming overhead disrupted his thoughts. It wasn't that the air raids caused much trouble; Caronville realized that the peculiar single-propeller aircraft seemed somewhat out of place compared to the Spitfire and Typhoon series.
The Barracudas flying overhead were dropping bombs and leaving; of course, he didn't yet know that these were carrier-based aircraft from the Royal Navy's aircraft carriers.
“Your Highness, I have a favor to ask.” He picked up the radio and spoke to Elizabeth. “Does Berlin have any video or other footage of the Battle of Rügen?”
"Any questions?"
"I remember survivors of the naval battle saying that the planes that sank the fleet with torpedoes and then bombed Stralsund all flew from the direction of the Danish islands in the north... Unless there were special circumstances, I don't think the British had any reason to deploy such planes in only one direction."
"Then, have any of the soldiers around you seen the Danish Air Force insignia?" Elizabeth immediately thought that the unfamiliar aircraft the colonel was referring to must be from another country mixed in with the British aircraft.
"Things are probably not that simple, Your Highness. I just have an idea: I think you should get those idle naval officers and soldiers to do something."
"I'm currently discussing with the fleet commander how to drive out the British battleships. If there's nothing else, come back quickly. I'd like to hear your next steps after capturing Lübeck."
“No problem, but before that, I still want to look for something in the video archive.” Caronville racked his brains, pulling out the photo that had flashed through his mind before. “I remember taking photos around Szczecin before. In the big lake east of the city, there seemed to be a large ship with a particularly flat deck, which we temporarily mistook for an oil tanker or a transport ship. Was it half-submerged there?”
Chapter 314, Section 403: The Giant Beast Beneath the Sea, the Giant Beast Above the Sky
The war situation in Germany was deteriorating and could no longer be resolved by just two battleships.
After lying dormant in the north for a long time, at dawn that day, the fleet of HMS King George V and HMS Howe finally appeared on the sea, just as it was beginning to lighten.
"Maintain air defense radar alert, all anti-aircraft artillery units must be in position immediately, we must be prepared for an air attack."
The British troops stationed in Lübeck had abandoned the city and split into two groups to retreat to Kiel and Hamburg respectively, in order to escape the encirclement before their communication with the outside world was completely cut off. They were to serve as the garrison on the Danish border and the Northern Alliance's manpower supplement in Hamburg. Field Marshal Montgomery was scratching his head in exasperation - the army had suffered a great loss on the ground, and even the ordinary sailors were talking about it.
Captain Flint was filled with anxiety. The Third Squadron had virtually no air cover today—the Formidable and Indomitable carriers hadn't even finished refueling; the Swedes had Mustangs and Spitfires, but their experience was somewhat limited; in contrast, the weaker Danes had only a handful of aircraft, mostly second-rate from the Royal Air Force and the Americans.
"I just hope the American Panda can perform well this time and completely erase the bad impression left by the F2 Buffalo." The captain took a deep breath and looked towards the wake of his flagship. A hundred miles away were the two Midway-class ships he had just encountered.
"Destroyer Lookout reporting, Your Excellency." A message came through the bridge of HMS King George V: "Their sonar detected an unidentified object approaching from underwater in the southern waters."
"Unidentified object?" Upon hearing this, the captain felt an itch on his rear admiral's epaulet. "Why not just say it's a submarine? Did the children of Northern Europe raise a fin whale in the Baltic Sea that would require an oil tanker to carry?"
"I don't want to call something the size of a destroyer that submerges underwater a fin whale, General. But I still dare not call it a submarine." As soon as he finished speaking, Felin and the officers beside him turned ashen-faced.
……
A submerged monster about 150 meters long should not exist below the surface of the Baltic Sea, except for sunken German naval capital ships.
Elizabeth went to great lengths to force the Royal Navy to withdraw from the German coast—she insisted on obtaining an Imperial Navy submarine in Area 11, which, fully armed, passed through a sea portal and aggressively navigated the reefs in the near sea.
The engines had already been shut off, and the submarine was slowly approaching the strait where the Royal Navy was entering, carried by inertia and ocean currents. To ensure a successful start, Duke Rabinowitz, who had come to assume command of the 45th District Expeditionary Fleet, personally boarded the submarine to oversee the operation.
“I had a dream last night, Captain.” The commander chewed on a fresh, juicy sweet fruit with relish—this wasn’t too rare on Imperial submarines. “I dreamt of a sleeping girl with long, silvery-white hair and half a shoulder exposed. She was as cute as my daughter who will grow up.”
"As a loving father, wouldn't he definitely go over and cover her with the blanket?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, when I tried to get closer, I suddenly felt very cold. I looked down and saw that the girl was sleeping on the shore right next to the sea. She was naked but sleeping soundly. There was her black and white coat, shirt and tie next to the bed, and um, there seemed to be a hat as well."
"Are you sure, Your Excellency?" The captain seemed a little confused. "I just hope the sea breeze didn't get the cold seawater that was blowing into the cabin. Knowing you were going to set sail with us, why are you dreaming about these things?"
“What you see during the day, you dream about at night. Why don’t you give this book to your child? It can be used as a story and also help them learn Danish.” The Duke took out a copy of “The Little Mermaid” from his pocket—it was a copy that the crew of the Anna Seiler had found in the luggage of a family of three on board when they captured a Danish fishing boat.
"I don't know whether to consider it spoils of war or the belongings of those crew members, haha." Turning to the author's portrait and biography on the title page, "You're really lucky, Mr. Andersen, to have left this world so early, before the days of war and chaos in your world."
"Sir!" Just then, a voice came through the submarine's internal communications, "We have detected the sound of thrusters. A ship is approaching us, bearing 347."
"What?" The commander and the captain exchanged surprised glances, then scrambled to grab the periscope. "Did we shut down the engines too late or something?"
But who can give them an answer right now? The sights revealed by the telescope do not lie. In the distance, two destroyers from the Royal Navy fleet, which was sailing away in a line, had already emerged, forming a horizontal line on the left and right sides, heading towards the submarine.
"No, we're too close." Rabinowitz pushed the periscope up. "Full power, hard left rudder, turn around, all personnel ready!"
……
"Straight ahead! Watch out!"
With a friendly reminder from a nearby ship and skillful maneuvering by the helmsman of the HMS Lookout, the torpedo launched from the bow of the Britannian submarine disappeared along with the destroyer's wake.
"There's a sound underwater, Captain!" The crew of the Lookout kept turning back to report. "They're turning the ship around, but they're still firing something? Maybe they have torpedo tubes on their broadsides too, sir?"
"Anti-submarine team, prepare!" The destroyer revved up its engines and cut through the waves. The crew on deck had already prepared the Hedgehog munitions. As for the larger "torpedo" detected by the sonar, its trajectory was rather strange.
"As expected, these strange creatures are everywhere in the sea." The captain flipped through the manual. Britannia was known as Portman's amphibious KMF. What else hadn't it ridden on?
At a command, hedgehog bombs flew into the water one after another. Shortly after the Portmans launched the miniature torpedoes at the two destroyers, they were blown up one after another, flooded, and some were even destroyed on the spot, resulting in the loss of life and the crew.
"Damn it, how many of these toads are in that fin whale's belly?" There are twenty of them already. They're so close. Even the most agile destroyer can't outmaneuver a fighter jet. In an instant, a rumbling sound came from the bow of the Lookout, and the middle of the hull of a friendly ship next to it was also damaged.
"Stay calm! Damage control personnel, go handle this! Everyone else, stay at your posts!"
……
"Portman's team has run out of torpedoes, sir. Our losses are not optimistic."
Rabinowitz received the message from the KMF leader while aboard the submarine and was somewhat taken aback.
"Keep trying to hold them off." Thinking of the task Her Highness had given him, he couldn't be too concerned about the pilots' lives.
Faced with such an order, the pilots could only use their own ingenuity. Their inexperience determined what kind of behavior they would take under the premise of "freedom of action"—like when they used to seize cargo ships, they would throw grappling hooks from the side to board the ship. The first thing they would see upon boarding was not the portholes, but rows of anti-aircraft guns of various calibers waiting in wait.
From the stern or bow, with only a few relatively slow-moving main guns, it would indeed be easier. However, although both British destroyers were damaged, they could still maintain a distance to protect each other. It would be difficult for the Oerlikon's anti-aircraft guns to penetrate the turret armor of a destroyer, but performing a spinal removal operation on the KMF's back would be a piece of cake.
Sweat beaded on the furrowed brows of the sailors on the Lookout, while the damage control crews working underwater were both calm and frantic, desperately trying to contain the seawater surging into the cabins.
However, at that moment, a Portman, like a madman, charged into the breach with all his might, like a great white shark.
Damage control personnel collapsed like building blocks, and more and more seawater surged around them like waves. Just when they were afraid that KMF would tear the breach wider and wider, they discovered that the other side's robotic arm seemed to be stuck on the hull.
One shoulder was outside, the other inside, wedged between the planks and stakes placed over the hole, squeezed immobile by the high pressure between the still-moving hull and the current. Trying to free it only made things worse, dislocating the cover plate on the shoulder and exposing the empty torpedo tube underneath.
The damage control team decided to abandon the place and let it fend for itself. So three brave young men took a crowbar, put pressure on Portman's joints, and when they saw sparks fly and the robotic arm freeze, they were relieved and withdrew, locking the watertight door.
……
On the bridge of the battleship, Felin was so anxious watching through his binoculars that he asked the heavy cruiser HMS London to come and help. He saw steel cables flying and sparks flying from the two destroyers, and the water around the ships was covered with dandelion-like fragments.
"We're going to lose to it, General. The submarine has already gone far ahead."
However, before the admiral could hesitate for even a moment, bubbles surged beneath the surface of the sea where the submarine had gone, and six missiles, flashing bright plumes of smoke, shot into the sky from the sea, heading straight for the Royal Navy battleship.
"Fire at will! Repeat! Fire at will!" Phil threw down his binoculars and shouted loudly to those behind him. Instantly, dozens of Bofors and Oerlikon anti-aircraft guns on HMS King George V, along with a dozen or so Royal Navy warships around them, opened fire on the sky.
Dark clouds and shimmering missile chains streaked across the sky. One missile exploded into fragments before it even reached its highest point, and the second quickly burned into a fireball, soaring higher and higher. Missiles were shot down one by one, the last two heading towards the stern of the battleship Howe, but they were quickly hit, wobbled, and exploded into a mushroom cloud next to the battleship.
"KMF and fighter jets can't sink our capital ships, so we can only rely on missiles to launch a surprise attack on the King George V?" The submarine sailed further and further away, heading into the depths of the Baltic Sea. Philin stood alone by the porthole, deep in thought. "Should we tell Field Marshal Cunningham that those bastards have already brought the warships back?"
Before the two destroyers could even withdraw, the clouds cleared in the sky above Lübeck, revealing two monsters that had only appeared in Soviet intelligence, soaring prominently under the rising sun.
……
Now that the expeditionary force has gradually become more well-off, in addition to the various facilities that should be placed in the open space north of Berlin, a large area of berth has naturally been built to accommodate four Skyships.
HMS Archivk and HMS Landius were left behind, while HMS Glass and HMS Roblush were operating their shields at maximum power to protect themselves from the barrage of Royal Navy anti-aircraft bullets coming from their right.
The pattering sounds of the heavy rain shattered amidst the glassy green mosaic on one side of the ship, protecting the hatch on the top deck of the ship, which was opening as two KMFs escorted a troop transport aircraft up.
Unlike the carrier-based combat teams that would be launched via catapults, this small group disembarked from the port side of the Skyship, facing away from the Royal Navy, and landed in the city of Lübeck amidst the trails of heavy shells crashing to the ground.
Apart from civilians seeking refuge and the sound of gunfire, the city was quiet. Britannian troops had entered from both banks of the Travo River, clearing out the last resistance.
Compared to ordinary soldiers, it was obvious that the KMF escorting the troop transport aircraft belonged to Her Highness the Princess's Royal Guard. Two captains of the Royal Guard personally went to the front line, and Iska was one of them.
"Um... Grafria, can you check if the fuel tank on my back is broken?"
"I kindly reminded you not to airdrop such a large fuel tank again, but you didn't listen... It's not broken, get up."
Elizabeth's Royal Guard was indeed full of oddballs. Grafria's Vincent had a monster with orange eyes and a fiery throat painted on his chest, and Iska's fuel tank was connected to her mechanical hand holding a machine gun—you wouldn't see such an outfit in any other Royal Guard.
"It would be fun if you landed as an airdropped incendiary bomb."
"Go away, go away. It's rare for me to have some fun on the ground, don't bother me while I'm setting fires." Iska opened the gas valve and walked further and further away. By the time the VIP in the troop transport came out, she had almost burned half the street black—she finally got her hands on the flamethrower and couldn't stop, huh?
"I'm sorry, gentlemen." Leaving Grafria behind, KMF squatted on the ground and addressed the officers wearing naval insignia who came out, "There may be enemies ahead. Please stay close to me. Captain Iska will clear a path for you."
"Let's go, let's go." The officer waved to her. "We've only been ordered to Lübeck to check the port's records, right? We've been in this world for a while now. Just remember that we all have two legs, and when we run, neither of us will give way to the other."
They splashed water on themselves, covered their faces with wet handkerchiefs, and were just about to set off with KMF when they heard a rumbling sound overhead, a mournful wail coming from the high south.
"Americans?" Grafria looked at the white star insignia in the sky, her eyes narrowing into slits as she watched them fly towards the two skyships. "Tsk, you've been hiding like cowards for so long, I thought you weren't coming."
Chapter 315, Section 404: Sunset in Kiel, the Eternal Cold Summer Night in the Fairy Tale Kingdom