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Page 249
"Ha, this is what we should do, Your Excellency. We only hope that His Highness Schneizel can prioritize the overall situation. If there are more and more scoundrels like Marquis Louisece, it will cause serious trouble."
As the two were talking, they saw a distinctively armed grass-green Vincent, accompanied by a squad of assault guns and a Sunderland carrying a recoilless rifle, hurry past on the road beside them.
……
"Ypper, Ypper, Angelie is calling, can you hear me?"
"Wait a moment, we were hit by counter-fire and I'm moving to a new position with long-range support... Oh, please let us through, General Trosa."
"Ah, it's so good to hear that you were unharmed." Angelina and Xixi'an exchanged a relieved smile—it seems that the lieutenant colonel's sister has really grown up.
The two men and several KMF teams were currently hiding in a grove of trees. In the distance was a makeshift airfield belonging to the US military, with only a few damaged C-47 transport planes and gliders on either side of the runway. The other side had already moved most of their belongings.
Meanwhile, Shishian and his team had just successfully cut off the airport's connection with the US forces outside. Now, the problem to solve was the long guns and short artillery guarding the ammunition depot, as well as a tank hidden in a concrete bunker. With the landmines scattered everywhere, a frontal assault was basically impossible.
"We plan to disembark and walk through the minefield to reach the airport to protect ourselves from flanking attacks by US forces. I've already sent you the coordinates."
As she spoke, Angelina jumped off the plane first, taking mine-clearing equipment and explosives for mine clearance from other soldiers while waving to Shisian, "The American troops at the airport definitely know we haven't gone far. Take a few men with infantry fighting vehicles and KMF machine guns and watch out for possible enemy planes."
As expected, Angelie, with her gun on her back and her face pressed against the dirt, hadn't even taken a few steps in the minefield when the US military at the airport started firing mortars and M2 heavy machine guns—a profound lesson to those hiding in the craters about having nowhere to escape. Meanwhile, the Yankee boys declared that they had plenty of ammunition to hold out until they were out of danger.
The defiant ground counterattack naturally resulted in air support, as predicted.
A squadron of Thunderbolt fighters swooped down from the sky in a straight line. Shishian and his men tried to stop them from the open ground nearby, but the birds ignored them and flew straight towards the woods. It was clear from the moment the wing pylons came off that the only way to deal with the woods was with napalm.
"Oh, Your Majesty..." Xixi'an panicked and led everyone to do their best, using a barrage of fire to drive the remaining three Thunder planes off their bombing route into the forest.
"I'm fine!..." Angelie, who was lying in the minefield, choked on the air on the other end of the radio. She could also hear the soldiers with her blowing down trees to stop the fire. "Focus on air defense! And protect my plane!"
Lightning crackled around the airport, and Shisian knew they wouldn't give up until these flies rushing to the airport's aid were completely shot down. Angelie's Vincent was the only one in their group carrying missiles, but clearly the owner of the aircraft didn't think it was time to use that trump card.
Then more shells landed beside them—these tanks and artillery pieces that came to relieve the American troops at the airport were naturally different from the bombs dropped by fighter jets.
"Yppert! The American troops are coming up from our flank! Quickly..."
"Just give me the coordinates, Xixi'an." The person on the other end of the radio seemed to have completely lost their usual naivety and cluelessness. "You guys just need to back up."
At the critical moment, while Xixi'an and the others were still pacing back and forth, and just as the Sherman tanks that had climbed up from the flanks had barely revealed a single cannon barrel, clumps of hadron cannon trajectories, carrying a barrage of shells, rained down from the sky.
Like crimson plasma carrying high temperatures and powerful shockwaves, smashing all the approaching tanks and half-tracks into pieces of molten steel—Ypper's hadron cannon had no retraction mechanism. Although it couldn't sweep down an entire bomber group like wheat being harvested, it was still a terrifying killing machine.
Besides the usual deep pits, what remained on the ground were piles of charcoal black material and some glittering, glass-like material.
"Advance!" Seeing this, Xixi'an led the group forward. The American reinforcements hadn't had time to regroup, and the wild horses that hadn't yet left the sky certainly wouldn't abandon them, thus further ensuring Angelie and the others' safety.
"Please send me the location of the enemy positions in the airport, Lieutenant Shishian." But it was Ipel's voice that rang out at that moment.
She was clearly not joking, but the risk was simply too great—the destructive power of the hadron cannon was undeniable, which was precisely why she and Angelie disagreed with Ypel's decision to directly bombard the area adjacent to the airport runway; in case something went wrong…
“We need an air supply line that can be operational in a short time, not…”
“It’s too late! I just heard Lieutenant Angelie’s radio call.” Ypel’s voice was firm and decisive, as if it were her long-dead lieutenant colonel brother giving the order. “Those bullets that whizzed past her head will hit her face in the next second!”
……
Angelina and her team were indeed in danger. Although they had waded through that last dangerous minefield, the soldiers with her couldn't get their rocket launchers aimed at the American machine guns that were firing.
They came here with a heavy heart. The US military and their own reinforcements were on their way, and they were not only more likely to withstand the enemy's resistance than the main forces of the two sides, but also more likely to win in the close-quarters combat at the airport beforehand.
"What?!..." Suddenly, red stones fell from the sky, landing on the heads of the American soldiers behind their bunkers. Angelie, terrified, cried out in panic, "Ipel! Ceasefire! Ceasefire! This is too dangerous!"
"Leave it to me, no problem!"
She interrupted the lieutenant's shouts. Ypel parked her plane on a gentle slope facing the airport, took a few deep breaths, and raised the hadron cannon high, precisely calibrating each shot before and after it was fired, like the pointer of a barometer.
Recalling how she was recruited into the Knights—becoming one with the steel giant beneath her, deeply feeling the precision of the KMF's limbs and joints, as precise as the directional and elevation angles on a cannon, precisely destroying it, was the reason why the Knights' only hadron cannon was entrusted to her.
The hail of bullets aimed at Angelie turned into flying pebbles and sand, barely allowing her to straighten up and nervously step onto the now quiet airport runway, praying that the craters under the dust hadn't crossed the line.
Suddenly, I felt a huge object overhead sweep away the dust and smoke. It was a friendly armed transport plane flying past, skimming close to the airport runway.
"Oh, forgive my bluntness, Lieutenant, do you intend to be the only obstacle to our landing?" Looking around, the nearest bomb crater was at least four steps away from the runway. If Angelie froze, she would crash into the plane's landing gear.
After the transport planes touched down with their rear landing gear, they did not brake. Instead, they opened the rear cargo door while maintaining a low-speed, ground-hugging gliding posture. The assault guns and KMFs inside the cabin took this opportunity to drive out and quickly drove away before the plane they were on pulled up and the next plane taxied onto the runway.
"Thank you so much for everything, Lieutenant."
“No need for that, Mr. Leader.” Angelie smiled with relief and satisfaction, pointing to Ypel standing there blankly on the distant hillside. “That’s the person you should thank, the real hero who has grown up.”
Chapter 344, Section 438: The Beginning of Deadly Resentment (Part 2)
[022 Friendly Reminder: This chapter can be enjoyed in conjunction with the Company of Heroes 1 soundtrack "On Guard for Liberty," although they might not be a perfect match.]
An M5 half-track vehicle pulled into the bushes. The cabin, which should have been full of soldiers, was now occupied by two green steel helmets, an M1 mortar, and stacks of ammunition boxes.
The vehicle had no passengers; instead, it was filled with soldiers who had set up their machine gun bazookas and were lying in ambush all around. They were hiding there, pressing their pointed ears to the radios and watching the faint outlines of American jeeps flashing through the bushes on the dirt road leading to a substation not far away.
“Take care of my lads, Sergeant.” Jonathan, in one of the jeeps, said this towards the half-track, with Pat and Tommy behind him, each clutching a Springfield sniper rifle and an M2 heavy machine gun respectively.
Driving these eight fully armed Willys Jeeps and Dodge Jeeps were, besides the 8st Airborne Division whose armbands bore the same bright red insignia as the two pilots, a Bald Eagle whom they had met once before. It was a strange kind of fate; having survived near-death experiences with the 82nd Airborne Division in Berlin, he was now risking his life alongside the paratroopers of the 101st Airborne Division.
Yes, it was that substation—less than half an hour ago, the sentry spotted a Britannian army unit stationed there. Although they didn't understand their intentions, when the scout mentioned "a green-painted KMF carrying strange pipes," the paratrooper commander immediately ordered a charge towards the station.
“You know, the guys who jump out of the plane are all vengeful,” the paratrooper captain leading the convoy said through gritted teeth. “Before losing contact at the airport, the entire C Company vaguely saw this entity firing at them.”
“Well, this is indeed a bit too hasty,” Jonathan smiled slightly. “But considering that I risked my life alongside the paratroopers in Berlin, you’ve come to the right place.”
“By the time the tank crews arrive and rendezvous, the apple pie will be cold.” The captain said dismissively. “There’s something else you need to know, Sergeant. We can no longer use the magnetic cards on these extraterrestrials to crack the Steel Nutcrackers’ IFF system.”
"What do you mean?"
“What I mean is, from now on, we might have to take deadly risks, like you did in Berlin, to change anything.” He paused. “Now split up. Sergeant, you and the car in front of you go to the left and block the enemy’s retreat in the substation. We’ll attack from another direction.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the whistling of mortar shells raining down from the direction of the half-track vehicle came from. Presumably, the enemy in the substation had only recently arrived and hadn't even set up any sentries yet, otherwise they wouldn't have waited until the dusty convoy was right in front of them before they heard the engine of the jeep.
The two vehicles pulled up to the back door of the substation and came to a stop. Pat was instructed to jump onto a large tree and hide, while Jonathan and Tommy crouched down next to the jeep, each aiming their heavy machine gun and BAR at the figure emerging from the back door.
Even more so than them, the paratroopers in the other vehicle traveling with them were more on the same page. They had an M18 recoilless rifle mounted on a tripod in the back of their jeep and fired a white phosphorus smoke grenade without saying a word.
……
"Where are you, Sergeant Syndra? Enemies at the substation! Requesting backup!"
Ypel was indeed among the group of men in black. She had just been inspecting the facilities when the mortars fell. In an instant, when the American troops opened fire, she was about to climb back into her own aircraft when the bright, burning white phosphorus beads shot out of the gray smoke and jumped directly into the open cabin of her aircraft.
Vincent Trell was shrouded in smoke, but she didn't even notice it. She picked up a gas mask from a soldier who had been burned to death by white phosphorus—the poor fellow hadn't even seen the jeeps before a tiny fireball jumped onto the back of his hand holding the gas mask, burning through his palm and cheekbone in the process.
I barely managed to climb back into the machine, only to find white phosphorus splattered all over the control panel. The terrifying heat from gripping the control lever with my left hand almost burned my palm to death.
While waiting for it to fully boot up, she discovered that the left-side display screen was also completely broken. Just as she was about to move Vincent, jeeps carrying heavy machine guns stormed in from outside the substation and broke the knee of her vehicle.
Upon seeing this, nearby soldiers rushed to check on her fallen aircraft.
"I'm fine!" Ypel pushed open the hatch and barely managed to crawl out using only her right hand—her left hand was in excruciating pain, but she could only endure it so that her companions wouldn't see it.
The US troops have already broken in. The recoilless rifles on the jeeps are circling the dark bodies of the assault guns, and the M2 heavy machine guns are darting back and forth between the wheels of the infantry fighting vehicles and the knees of the KMFs. The entire substation is in complete chaos.
"It's too late! We can get you out of here! Our Sunderland team can carry your plane and weapons away!"
"There are plenty of enemies outside. You go, I'll cover you!" Ipel gritted her teeth, stubbornly pushing them away and tearing off the soldier's belt, which was laden with grenades. "The hadron cannon's energy is depleted. Stack the energy blocks from my machine on the back wall of the substation and detonate it!"
……
"Hey! Did you see her, boss? That disheveled little brat!" Tommy's hands were on his M2 machine gun as he watched as Ypel suddenly emerged from a burning infantry fighting vehicle on the other side of the line of fire. Before the machine gun could even get a hold of her, she leaped onto a passing American jeep, wobbling and crashing into the rubble along with the soldiers inside.
Ipel's green uniform was very conspicuous, and even the paratroopers operating the recoilless rifle on the other side could see it clearly, not to mention Pat, who was still crouching in the tree aiming at his sniper scope.
“She won’t dare come out, sir.” Pat radioed Jonathan, firing a shot as he spoke. “Did you see that? She’s hiding in that transformer, the one against the wall!”
The smoke and dust in the substation were getting thicker and thicker. The Imperial soldiers hiding in the nooks and crannies had no intention of surrendering. Tommy was busy loading the heavy machine gun himself, and the sniper scope also needed to keep an eye out for any thief hiding behind the bricks and tiles.
"Wait a minute!" Suddenly Pat felt something was wrong—the M1919 machine gun mounted on the back seat of the jeep that had overturned with Ipel was gone?
"Oh, NO, NO! NO!..." Before falling from the treetop, he could hardly believe what he was seeing. The heavy, sturdy transformer was shaken by something like a sapling, and then Ypel suddenly kicked it over while carrying the dismantled M1919 machine gun between his arm and side, and started firing wildly at the treetop where Pat was sitting.
If the opponent is a veteran, it's reasonable to determine their location by observing their few shots in the air. But what's the logic behind a slender girl kicking a transformer aside?!
Not to mention Jonathan had to take cover, Tommy, who was going to exchange fire with her using an M2 heavy machine gun, had to jump off the vehicle at the sight of this scene—as if Ipper really had a ruler on her arm that could measure distances, and she was automatically staring at the heads of every soldier standing in front of her.
“You guys hide here!” Pat was determined to give this girl a run for her money—she draped the ammunition belt over the back of her left hand, which she couldn’t hold, and used her right arm to tuck the machine gun around, it seemed that the sergeant and the paratroopers were going to take on this “elite” one to the end.
Pull the trigger, one shot; pull the bolt; pull the trigger again, another shot. After playing hide-and-seek with Ypel through the scope for a few seconds, a bullet finally hit her slightly above the side of her chest. The moment she fell into the substation, the machine gun in her hand flew out with her.
"She's down, sir, she's down!" Pat excitedly told Jonathan, but just as he was about to go with the sergeant to surround her, they heard a shattering sound from the window of the substation, and a belt full of grenades was thrown at Tommy, who was waiting by the jeep.
"F*** you!!" Jonathan was furious and turned to chase after him into the substation. Pat understood the sergeant's meaning and had no choice but to go back and check on Tommy's injuries first.
The jeep was covered in grenade fragments, the windows were shattered, and the foot pedals, handbrake, and steering wheel were mostly destroyed. Tommy was painfully clutching a bleeding wound on his thigh—thankfully, it was just a regular anti-personnel grenade; if it had been carrying a rocket launcher warhead, the exploding ammunition box would probably have cremated Tommy instantly.
"Oh no no no..." Pat shakily dropped his gun, almost forgetting to take out the sulfanilamide powder from his pocket when he called for the medic. "Calm down, calm down... The sergeant saved me last time, this time I have to make sure Tommy lives too..."
……
"Sergeant? Where are you?" After driving off the enemy, the paratrooper captain immediately called Red Cross for the flustered Pat and Tommy, but Jonathan was nowhere to be seen.
When they caught up with him in the substation, they found him wandering around the room like a headless fly.
“Look at me, bro. Take a deep breath, okay?!” The captain grabbed his shoulders and then focused his attention on Jonathan’s hands.
It resembled a collar, grayish-green with a white stripe, severed from the clothing by a bullet. A gold badge, shield-shaped with several broken flower-like decorations, was embedded in it, completely deformed.
Jonathan gripped it tightly with his index finger and thumb, aiming at the large hole in the substation wall—if Pat's Springfield rifle bullet had deviated slightly from its angle, it could have pierced the girl's shoulder and crippled her, preventing her from being deflected by the metal badge and escaping.
"Great, fucking great." Jonathan held the badge to the captain's nose. "Didn't you guys have a grudge against this bitch? Count me in too! Let me tell you, this isn't over!"
Chapter 345, Section 439: The Bait of the White Eagle
The paratroopers of the 101st Airborne Division held the substation for two whole days, and naturally, they couldn't avoid the enemy's counterattack.
Strangely, the Britannian troops seemed to have other plans—unlike in the past when they fought for every inch of land and rammed the American troops with artillery and manpower, the enemy only shelled the area around the substation every now and then, and the large KMF battalion and tanks that were supposed to encircle and annihilate them were all pushed to the rear of the American troops.
And it wasn't just these paratroopers; American troops occupying key positions in other directions and at risk of being encircled and annihilated were in a similar situation. It was as if the Britannians were in no hurry to wipe out the trapped soldiers and were instead focused on cutting off the American troops' retreat route toward Lüneburg.
If ten times their strength, surround them; if five times, attack them; if twice, divide them—the American generals naturally understood that the enemy, who had nearly won a major victory in Hamburg a month ago, was certainly not without ambition.
……
"Sir, news has come from the front that American tank units have begun their attack on us from the south."
Trossa and Windsor were visiting the wounded in Lüneburg at noon when they received this news.
The US counter-offensive was expected; after all, green helmets were still being used to land ships in the North Sea. The only question was the direction of the counter-offensive—unlike the landing points of Wilhelmshaven and Bremen, which were located west of Lüneburg, the US counter-offensive started in the south.
What does this mean? To put it in a slightly exaggerated but easy-to-understand way: these American troops launching a counterattack are like soldiers who have traveled thousands of miles by train from Munich and Nuremberg.
Was the US military reinforcing its troops from another direction? But this unexpected detail made the two generals burst into laughter.
"Let's go back to headquarters first. We'll play along with the Americans and make this show work!" Trosa and Windsor turned and left the medical station, leaving behind many wounded soldiers with puzzled but hopeful smiles on their faces—including Ypel, who had been brought in to treat his burns.
Everyone's hands are made of flesh and blood. Luckily, what she was holding wasn't sparking white phosphorus, but holding onto a place that had been scorched by white phosphorus wasn't a good thing either.
Back then, how her brother and his comrades rubbed her fair little hands, and now look at the white skin residue, pink connective tissue and blackish-gray wounds on her palms before they were wrapped in bandages. It was a live dissection without reservation—"What is the simplest and most effective way for new recruits to understand reality in District 45?" It is to look at the wounded under white phosphorus bombs.
Ypel silently endured the pain while waiting for the bandage to be applied, but the doctor could clearly see the worry on the girl's face.
“You need at least two days of rest and several dressing changes, Sergeant. You can’t go back to your KMF now. I’m responsible for your injury.”
“I also have a responsibility to my companion, sir…” Ypel pleaded, then paused to think for a moment, “How about this, please give me a phone call, and I promise I won’t have any thoughts of running away until I’m qualified to leave, okay?”
……
For a long time, no one remembered Sergeant Sindra and her infantry fighting vehicle; she and her men had retreated to a town called Ulzen.
"Someone's calling?" She pulled out a talking PDA from the cabin, which showed that the call was coming from the hospital behind.
"Angelica! Xixi'an! Is that you?"
"Sergeant Ypel?" Okay, it seems the two ladies from the Knights of the Order have mixed up their belongings, but Syndra couldn't help but feel a chill. "Are you kidding me? When did the American forces enter Lüneburg?!"
"Wait?" Ipel paused for a moment. "No, everything is fine here. I want to know how Xixi'an and the others are doing? Also, what about the long-range artillery support team that I led earlier?"
"Oh, you scared me to death! The gunners who obey your orders have a qualified replacement, so you don't need to worry that their abilities will decline without you! As for Lieutenant Angelie and the others, they're busy supporting another direction right now, but they're all fine!"
“I have to hang up now, Ypel! American tanks are everywhere!” After putting down the PDA, Syndra pushed open the hatch above her head, and Sergeant Kan Hu knocked on her vehicle again.
“We’d better retreat, ma’am! My infantrymen have already seen American tanks driving into town, and I’ve seen those two-headed porcupines this time.”
"Porcupine? Two heads?" Syndra kept recalling glimpses of past battlefields—when did Sherman tanks get two turrets?
"I know you're confused, but we really have to go, okay? Even a headless porcupine isn't something your infantry fighting vehicle can handle with its machine gun!"