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"What the hell? Are they planning to conduct an anti-attack test on their brand-new armored aircraft carrier?" The marshal couldn't imagine the consequences of those heavy 298mm rockets exploding in the hangar of the Midway.
No need to rush, no need to rush. Cunningham kept reassuring himself as he put the telescope down and put it up again. Finally, he saw that the two malfunctioning elevators of the Midway had been restored to operation—ten minutes had passed since he first received the distress message from the Vanguard.
Just two or three minutes ago, they received the message that "a spaceship has appeared over eastern Hamburg," and it was already too late. The pilots on the Midway rushed to their respective cockpits, and Zulu 9, as the leader, quickly took off in its Panda.
Oh, once we're in the air, we have to wait for everyone else to take off one by one and form an aerial formation—the pandas with HVARs attached are crowding the deck, followed by the TBF Avengers and SB2C Hell Divers carrying Little Tim, who are next on the mission of attacking the Skyship.
Looking around, the remaining dozen or so Seafire fighters responsible for air patrol and interception seemed to be silently complaining about the shameful useless men on the USS Midway with their light yet helpless figures.
Zulu 9 waited dejectedly for its squadron to assemble. Just as it was preparing to set off westward, an even more unexpected sound suddenly came from the bridge of the Midway.
"Calling all Midway squadrons! Mission changed! Repeat! Mission changed! All sortie squadrons, proceed immediately to the south of the fleet, south of Copenhagen!"
"Advance to high altitude over the southern waters of Copenhagen!" Before the pilots of the Zulu 9 and the other Midway pilots could even react, the surrounding Seafire fighters swiftly assembled and rushed towards the airspace above Zealand.
……
Three iron-cast clouds, carrying a swarm of flying nutcrackers, drifted in from Berlin once again.
After being repaired and restored to its former glory, the Robles once again formed a triangular formation with the Grass and Archievik. This time, instead of passing through the Elbe River, they suddenly turned right and flew straight over Denmark.
There was sporadic anti-aircraft fire from the Danish army on the island, but it was completely useless with the three airships moving at full speed and having shields protecting the entire bottom of the ship.
Captain Robluth was overjoyed today. The only thing in the sky was the KMF escorting them. He never expected that Her Highness Elizabeth's feint attack would actually succeed.
Yes, Her Highness was, after all, a rational person. She understood that although the five aircraft carriers were farther from Hamburg, in the long run their threat was far greater than that of the lone Victory in the coastal waters. She also understood that sinking a large capital ship with only the KMF's recoilless guns and the rockets of the jet fighters was by no means an easy task.
The Skyship's large-caliber naval guns are among the few anti-ship weapons currently available, and it seems that the Northern Alliance on the British and American sides also understands this.
Today, the expeditionary force deployed all four of its airships. Just now, news of the Landius being spotted by enemy forces in Hamburg has been confirmed. The North American pilots who are currently working to intercept it at sea have no idea that it will soon turn south to bombard American ground forces there before quickly returning to Berlin.
The guillotine that was truly meant to sever the Northern Fleet, even though it had already appeared in the signals of the Danish radar station, was too late to intercept it.
"What a quiet sky." Captain Robluth's feet stomped on the bridge floor, feeling the scattered anti-aircraft guns shattering in vain before the shields, a tingling sensation spreading through him.
"Captain, we will be passing Zealand Island and entering the airspace of the Kattegat Strait in five minutes."
"Alright, notify the hangar to deploy all shipboard forces. There should be a small number of patrols over the enemy fleet. I don't want them making any more noise."
At a command, the hangar doors of the three skyships in the clouds slowly opened, and one by one, KMFs were attached to the catapult tracks and leaped into the air from the deck.
"We have completed formation and rendezvoused with the escort aircraft, Your Excellency." The carrier-based aircraft leader had already rushed to a higher position, where the clouds were thinner. "Uh, we've spotted enemy aircraft approaching from here. We might have actually captured the main fleet."
"Wow, can you confirm the enemy ship's location?" Captain Luo was overjoyed and hurriedly prepared to order the shield team and all turrets to prepare for attack.
"You misunderstood me, sir." However, the leader's reply was like a bucket of cold water: "I see over a hundred aircraft above this fleet now, perhaps they are on patrol duty?"
"What? Alert? More than a hundred aircraft?"
"That's right, there are over a hundred aircraft just responsible for surveillance. This might really be a large fleet."
Not to mention the captain, everyone on the bridge turned pale upon hearing these words. With an extremely uneasy premonition, they watched as a group of deep blue ghosts followed closely behind more than a dozen Seafires, sweeping across the sky like a locust plague as always—the F8F Pandas brushed past the Sky Fleet, revealing the racks under their wings fully loaded with rockets.
"This is impossible!" The crew of the Skyship launched a counterattack in horror and disbelief. No one wanted to believe that the surprise attack that seemed within their grasp had vanished at the last moment!
……
"Zulu-9 calling! I've been hit! I've been hit! Cover my parachute!"
In the last second before its panda-shaped wing broke and crashed into the sea, Zulu-9 jumped out of the cockpit and deployed its parachute.
"No need to maintain attack formation! Fire! Fire in disarray! Let's see if we fly faster or they are quicker to react!" There was no place for him in the howling winds of the high sky for the time being, but this time, pilots as smart and brave as him did not back down.
For the Skycreators and KMF pilots, the fact that the Pandas and Seafires were no longer swooping down in neat rocket formations meant that disaster was drawing ever closer.
When the pandas carrying rockets have free time, they will fire their machine guns at the Skyship. If the machine gun bullets pierce through that wretched green glass, the pilots will immediately release the rocket button and maneuver away. The shield control crew, who have always been "worried" in the comfort of the ship, are now playing a life-or-death gamble in the air with the US Navy pilots.
The puppets and fighter jets were tangled up in the sky. The crew of the Archivk were fortunate enough to be on the edge of the aerial battlefield, anxiously preparing to slow down and lock onto the Northern Alliance warships at sea, while praying for the safety of the friendly ships next to them.
"USS Roblus! Calling USS Roblus! Enemy aircraft approaching directly overhead at 12 o'clock!"
It was all too late. The three Pandas, which had been waiting in the air for a long time, suddenly swooped down at high speed and then pulled up sharply, sending a total of 12 HVAR rockets under their wings crashing into the hangar door below the bridge in a trajectory almost parallel to the flight deck.
"The ship is under attack!" The explosion of sparks and the crew's terrified shouts echoed across the sky, and the entire sky witnessed the Roblush instantly transform into a huge dark cloud wrapped in electric sparks.
"Damage confirmed! Damage confirmed!" At this moment, the captain of the Luo ship had been pushed to the ground by the violent shaking. He could only feel the bridge floor gradually getting hot, but there was no response from the hangar!
When the damage control team rushed down to the lower deck, they witnessed the horrific scene that had just unfolded—a rocket had blasted open the hangar door, then struck the onboard ammunition racks inside, and the fire instantly spiraled out of control, engulfing everything in the hangar. The spacious cabin had been transformed into a sea of flames, sparks flying everywhere, and the entire Roblush, inside and out, had become scorching hot, like a flying coal furnace.
……
The Archivist and Glass, which were right next to it, could only futilely reduce their altitude and speed to get away from the Russian ship and begin bombarding the ships at sea.
Most of the warships flying the St. George's flag and the Union Jack had received the news and were rapidly retreating north, leaving a group of cruisers blocking the Skyship's path.
The Cleveland and Astoria were in the lead, with the London, Kenya, and Norfolk following behind. The five warships, with a total of more than forty large-caliber anti-aircraft guns and over a hundred Boforswell guns, formed a giant blade cleaving the sky. The flying bullets and the billowing black smoke acted like shackles, locking the shields of the two outnumbered airships below, leaving them with no chance to retaliate.
At this moment, the SB2C bombers, carrying Tim rockets, arrived late. Some went to help the Skyships that were being blocked by the warships, but most went to cut off the last breath of the Robles, which was beyond saving.
……
Zulu 9 was at sea at the time and was salvaged from the sea by nearby Danish sailors in a torpedo boat.
Before the summer rain and thunder arrived, the sky was already as bright and dazzling as the rising sun at dawn.
Suddenly, a terrifying surge of electric sparks and molten iron erupted from the hangar of the 260-meter-long Roblush, and the massive explosion forcibly ripped the 200-meter-long flight deck off the hull and threw it into the air.
The fire dragon then reached the area below the stern, mercilessly tearing apart the air-cushioning engines and the upper part of the hull. The shattered hull fragments flew through the air before finally vanishing in a flash. The detached turrets, the mangled hull, and the internal compartments were reduced to nearly a hundred large and small pieces, trailing huge plumes of black smoke as they fell from the sky.
"My friend, do not fear the cold of the sky or the biting chill of the sea. Behold! God has poured down a bucket of hot coals for us!"
Amidst the excited shouts and waving sleeves of the sailors and pilots, this pile of scorching steel, formerly known as the Roblush, crashed into the Great Belt Strait like a meteorite, disappearing without a trace above the Baltic Sea after splashing up a nearly 100-meter-high wall of water.
Chapter 323, Section 412: Counterattack! In the Name of the North Atlantic Strategic Defense Alliance! (Part 1)
Under such relentless pursuit, HMS Victory was forced to leave the German coast and retreat towards Scapa Flow – its deck was riddled with bullet holes, half of its aircraft were destroyed on the deck, and the casualties among the sailors were appalling.
The consequence of this was that the Britannian army could advance recklessly towards the coastline, continuing to encircle Hamburg from all sides while the besieging forces penetrated further into the city center.
But that doesn't mean those brothers and sisters who chant the Lion and Snake Flag can force a smile—walking across the battlefield strewn with corpses on both sides, even the king of beasts, except for carrion vultures, would frown.
They were getting closer and closer to the bridge spanning the Elbe River in the city center, with the mounds of tanks and KMFs behind them. Moving forward from here would be even more difficult.
The troops that captured the bridgehead suffered heavy losses, and the commanders had to bring up the Knights of Agincourt, who were in reserve, including Juliet and Ypel, as well as Vincent, who was equipped with a high-powered energy shield and a scattering hadron cannon respectively.
Any conventional strategy of storming the bridgehead failed. They were blocked not only by the Royal Marines fighting desperately on the bridge, but also by the frenzied British howitzers and mortars from behind. Even worse, the first waves of attackers were met with "devastating direct fire" from the other side of the bridge.
What surprised them even more was that Juliet, on whom they had placed high hopes, also stumbled. She turned to the side, trying to create a ricochet by changing the angle of the shot, but even so, the powerful kinetic energy still managed to push her Vincent more than 5 meters backward, causing him to fall backward to the ground—Juliet's shield had once withstood a single shot from an IS-2 and remained calm.
Not only did the shield fail on the spot, but Vincent, who was thrown out, and the cannonballs that still had momentum also caused a group of teammates following Juliet to suffer. Fortunately, thanks to Ypel's tacit understanding with her, they were only ten meters behind and were not affected.
Before her opponent could load the next round, she quickly hoisted the hadron cannon and haphazardly fired at the building before retreating. With the floors and bricks collapsing, the weight of several stories would surely cripple her in the rubble.
Just as the other soldiers were preparing to force their way onto the bridge while the smoke was billowing across the river, they were surprised to find a huge creature emerging from the rubble. It fired a few shots at them, then fired smoke grenades and retreated into the distant city.
They could only vaguely make out that this thick, bulky figure had no turret; a barrel slightly thicker and longer than a 17-pounder gun was positioned at the front, and the frontal armor of the vehicle was covered with countless craters. At first, everyone simply thought it was a towed large-caliber artillery piece, or just a Comet. Who would have thought it was a monster that had withstood the concentrated fire of more than a dozen assault guns and KMFs and was still able to be taken down one by one?
"This is a tank? This is clearly a section of Hadrian's Wall with tracks!"
……
"Retreat! Retreat! Abandon the attack on the bridge, we have other tasks!"
The commander ordered Juliet and her group to retreat to the north, as the sky brought them other trivial matters.
They spotted Major Mayer, whom they had met briefly before. He was groveling down from the sky, being chased by F8F fighters, with a KMF on each arm.
"Medic! Call the medic!" The three KMFs fell to the ground in front of them. When Ypel jumped out of the cockpit to help, the major, limping and dragging his bloodied leg, rushed to pry open the cockpit door of the friendly aircraft.
"What happened, Mr. Mayer?" Juliet asked, puzzled. "The plan to raid the enemy fleet in the north has fallen through? Didn't we drive away that aircraft carrier in the west?"
“I can’t explain it to you in a few words, girl.” The major wiped his sweat. “If I were Count Hohenzollern, I should be preparing for how to retreat from the front lines.”
“How is this possible?” Juliet asked, puzzled. “His Excellency the Earl has ordered us to maintain a high-pressure attack on the British troops in the city, regardless of the cost or casualties… He would order a retreat?”
"Trust me, Sergeant. Although he has only been in Sector 45 for less than two months, I know he is a man of courage and vision, not a reckless one."
……
The HMS Victory survived by sheer luck, while the USS Midway narrowly saved the day. These two air and sea battles seemed to be slowly tilting the balance of power in the Hamburg conflict toward Britannia.
Buchholz is located on land in the southern suburbs of Hamburg. To the north from there is the spearhead of the Imperial army cutting into the southern part of Hamburg. 40 kilometers to the west, these extraterrestrials even attempted to burn the battle line to the outskirts of Bremen and the banks of the Weser River.
This time, as the spearhead of the Northern Union's counter-offensive, the U.S. 3rd Armored Division and 1st Infantry Division had already rushed menacingly to Buchholz, and the muzzles of Pershing tanks were already pressing against the vital train station in this small town.
However, the Landius, a skyship that had played an important role in the previous aerial feint attack, suddenly moved to the front of the American forces on the southern front according to the feint attack plan. After a brief but terrifying aerial bombardment, it disrupted the American forces' formation.
The Skyships had already hastily retreated eastward to Berlin under the pursuit of the Mustang and Thunderships, while Britannia's ground reserve forces took advantage of the chaos to attack, completely entangled with the American forces that were determined to advance.
Captain Sheffield and his men could have arrived from the flank to provide support in time, but now the battlefield was in chaos, and Jonathan and his infantry, along with several armored vehicles, were trapped in a farm.
Shells flew haphazardly through the air like needles and thread from a sewing machine, making it impossible to distinguish between shells from the Pershing tanks and enemy artillery fire. The only thing the sergeant's squad could rely on was the M19 weapon carrier, whose twin 40mm Bofors anti-aircraft guns became the only support for the twenty-odd soldiers.
Helicopters might approach from the sky, and KMFs might suddenly rise and take aim from the ground around them. The soldiers on the M19 sat on the sturdy and agile gun barrels, swaying left and right with the turret, looking more disheveled than passengers in a small boat crossing a rapid current.
"They won't hold out much longer! Hold on!" Jonathan was busy helping the fallen comrades up on the position, patting them on the shoulder and leading them to their firing positions. "Reinforcements will come, guys!"
The sergeant said this purely out of consolation—indeed, twin Bofors could take the lives of a dozen or twenty KMFs, but what about the assault guns? They could easily destroy the soldiers' makeshift positions outside the range of the bazookas.
Just then, a familiar yet unfamiliar, crisp cannon fire, like rocks falling in a valley, rang out sporadically behind them.
All the KMFs collapsed to the ground, and when Jonathan turned around, he saw a convoy of Allied tanks rushing towards them.
They were a group of fireflies equipped with 17-pounder anti-tank guns, dressed in British tank uniforms and wearing berets. Their faces, holding .30 machine guns on the turret, did not come from the British Isles. The black wing painted on the side of the turret, on the cavalry helmet, with its wings raised high, was born on the banks of the Vistula River, drifted to Western Europe and Britain, and once ended the retreat of tens of thousands of German soldiers in Falaise.
“You are no longer alone, Americans.” The Firefly’s leader drove up to Jonathan and his men, followed by more American stragglers who had been rescued and gathered by these friends. “The Polish 1st Armored Division will fight alongside you to take Buchholz.”
"So, we're going to have another Cobra operation?" Following the sound of gunfire, the sergeant and his team shrank behind Firefly, but it was clear that waiting for those 17-pound cannons to rip open all the tin cans in front of them wasn't a good idea. "But I hope General Bradley understands that those flying cowboys are Cobra's teeth."
“Oh, the general certainly understands, but,” the tank commander replied jokingly, “your First Red Army Division must have learned a phrase, ‘Thank God for creating the U.S. Navy,’ right?”
Just then, the long-awaited voice came through the team's radio backpack and the Firefly leader's communication headset.
"All Northern Army units that can receive this message! This is the 513th Fighter Squadron of the U.S. Marine Corps. We are approaching Buchholz from the southern airspace. Please provide us with ground instructions!"
"Marine Corps?!" Not to mention Jonathan, even the Polish tank commander's eyes widened—my goodness, we've never encountered these Marines on the European continent before.
"OK, buddy... um..." The sergeant was a little incoherent with excitement, "This is the 26th Infantry Regiment, and also the Polish Armored Division. We need your help to clear all obstacles on the way to the train station in that town. You, you guys..."
“All I need is a green smokescreen, man,” the Marine pilot said with exceptional confidence over the radio. “I guarantee there won’t be anything in front of you that will dare to raise its head and resist.”
……
Jonathan and his team picked up an empty Bofors ammo box, threw in a green smoke grenade, and pushed it onto a Firefly.
"Double time! Guys! Wow!" Just as the soldiers were about to advance with the tanks, they looked up and saw F7F fighter jets, which they had never seen before and which bore the words "US Marine Corps," descending over the battlefield, skimming right up to their heads.
The four Tigercats were arranged in a wedge formation, and rockets and bombs were dropped from their bomb bays as they flew overhead, landing on swarms of Britannian soldiers.
With a larger fuselage, stronger armor, and a more abundant rain of death, soldiers on the European continent and visitors from outer space witnessed firsthand the first roar of these deep blue fire dragons over this land.
Fireflies carrying green smoke scurried across the land, firing their weapons. Jonathan and a group of American soldiers followed closely behind. All around them, tiger-cats flew low over the ground with howls like hungry wolves, leaving craters and seas of fire in their wake.
Four cannons and four heavy machine guns were concentrated in the middle of the fuselage, creating a terrifyingly dense firepower rarely seen in the skies over Europe. As the gun barrels began to fire like a torrential downpour, the ammunition belts mercilessly chopped at the chaotic earth like a circular saw cutting wood in a lumberyard, leaving nothing but desolation in their wake.
"513, you're too close to the ground!" Jonathan was actually a little scared as he watched Tiger Cat's propeller, twice the size of a Mustang, glide past the soldiers' helmets.
“You wouldn’t say that in the Pacific, buddy,” Tiger Cat’s leader said calmly. “The Marines love watching us use electric fans to slice down those Japanese snipers hiding in the trees.”
The ocelots, accompanied by the fireflies that traveled alongside the green smoke curtain, sailed through the waves to the front of the Buchholz train station, much like accompanying a ship that was sending spinach ash up from its chimney.
"That's the last one." The last squad of ocelots swooped down and dropped petrol bombs on the group of stubborn resisters in the train station and the supplies piled up inside and outside the railway. "Don't worry about casualties, someone will come to take your place."
The entire town had completely shaken off the lingering chill of spring and winter and entered summer. The scorching heat waves surged like a flood from a burst dam along the railway and roads to the surrounding streets. The soldiers watched as the plume of volcanic ash rose from the train station and shot into the sky, mingling with a large group of passing C-47 transport planes.
Looking up again, several gliders had already been released from the tow hooks of those aerial trains, and landed on the surrounding open ground, staring at the train station engulfed in flames and at the soldiers and tanks covered in dust.
"I think the enemy is likely to launch a counterattack, buddy. Hurry up and help us set up a better position, OK?" A group of American soldiers emerged from the glider, pushing a light and compact M1 howitzer.
The emblem on their armbands was incredibly impressive—a vast expanse of shimmering white parachutes filled the surrounding sky, falling alongside more fleeting C-47s. Without exception, the bald eagle, soaring towards the sky, was on each of their left arms, as they returned to the European continent where they had fought for so many days.
……
"To all the soldiers who have just come from the Americas and are setting foot on this land again or for the first time, I am General Omar Bradley."
"On the ship a few days ago, everyone must have received the order to 'prepare for a fully armed landing.' You have spent some uneasy days and nights in the final moments of this sea voyage, and all of this is necessary and crucial."
"The battle in Hamburg can only be salvaged in your hands. Just as you were preparing to land, the U.S. Army's 1st Infantry Division, 3rd Armored Division, 101st Airborne Division, and the Polish 1st Armored Division completely blocked the enemy's retreat. What you need to do now is, just like in Normandy two years ago, cut off any hope the enemy might have of escaping the encirclement!"
"Soldiers of the United States of America! Take up your weapons and step off the deck! The trains that will take you to the front lines are already at the gates of the port. Today, the invaders from another world will suffer their worst defeat beneath the walls of Hamburg!"
Bradley's impromptu speech was played on a loop through loudspeakers inside and outside Wilhelmshaven, welcoming the American warships and troop transports that swarmed into the bay from the North Sea.
The soldiers, carrying the necessary weapons, rushed onto the train following the officers' directions, leaving their belongings to the port workers for safekeeping.