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……
"Calling Sergeant Sindra! Calling Sergeant Major Kan! US heavy forces are entering Ulzen. We will be conducting artillery fire. All units, please move north of the town!"
The two sergeants hurriedly called their men to join them, but unfortunately, several infantrymen carrying rocket launchers had their communications compromised and were foolishly unable to receive this life-or-death message.
The American artillery fired several white phosphorus smoke shells at the entrance to the town to provide cover. They put on gas masks and hid on the rooftops, preparing to use rocket launchers to smash open the tanks entering the street from above—just as the sergeant issued the message.
However, before the smoke had cleared, they, who were perched on the wooden roof and beams, could vaguely hear the sounds of the Sherman tank's steering and elevation mechanisms turning.
Did the US military spot them? No, just as they were about to take a closer look at the M2 heavy machine gun on top of the tank to see if anyone was inside, a huge cloud of black smoke and flames suddenly rose from in front of the tank turret like a theater curtain.
The sprayed fuel and airflow swept away the smoke, but also caught up with the infantry who, sensing danger, could not escape such a tragic and unjust death. The Sherman tank under the eaves was about to raise the flamethrower mounted alongside its main gun to set fire to the wooden roofs of the houses on both sides of the road, never expecting such a result.
The fireballs and thick smoke gnawed at the lone black-clad infantrymen like piranhas, howling in agony. Hearing the commotion, the American soldiers on the ground immediately raised their rifles.
Being shot to death is indeed merciful compared to being burned to death, especially by oil fire.
A man in black fell from the rooftop onto the road. No one knew whether he had fallen in a panic or jumped to his death. But death played a trick on him this time—his chest hit the ground first, and he was then engulfed in scorching flames while suffering the pain of broken ribs.
He couldn't even make a sound anymore, and could only crawl toward the American soldiers and tanks in front of him, driven by nerve impulses—towards the green helmets that were coldly watching him, and the soldiers with bald eagle tattoos on their shoulders, just like the paratroopers in the substation.
Perhaps they didn't want to do any favors, or perhaps they were too lazy to sentence him to death again. They didn't raise their guns and fire indiscriminately. They were only paying attention to whether the houses were completely burned down, and at most, they would glance at him to see if he was completely burned to death. "Gory, gory, what a hell of way to die" is probably a song that describes this scene.
Finally, someone came to help him out. Unfortunately, it wasn't the soldiers—the American officers and soldiers seemed to have heard something, and they all looked up at the sky at the same time. Suddenly, artillery fire erupted from the ground, smashing the tank with flying bricks and broken walls, cracking open the back of the unfortunate man's head, which was burned and ulcerated all over.
……
Upon seeing that friendly forces entering the city had been shelled, the men at the rear, who were about to follow, panicked.
"Where the hell is this artillery fire coming from?!"
Just as he was about to jump up and curse and report to his superiors, he was suddenly terrified by a convoy of trucks coming from behind—and then immediately slapped himself: Aren't they just German Lightning half-track trucks? The brothers aren't fighting Germans now.
The long line of trucks didn't come towards them; only one of them came specifically to find them, hurriedly unloaded a few boxes containing M18 recoilless rifles and shells from the Bald Eagle paratroopers, and then left.
The soldiers didn't notice the large stack of rockets in the carriage, nor did they notice that the German unloading their cargo wore a helmet that didn't have the usual large brim; it was round like a watermelon rind, and the eagle emblem painted on the side of the helmet had been painted over with black paint, obscuring the swastika on the eagle's claw.
The German soldiers, wearing "watermelon rinds" on their heads, returned to the convoy with the trucks—the convoy had already set up camp at a farm far from the village.
One by one, the Germans jumped off the vehicle, unloading the Nebelwerfer 41 15cm six-barreled rocket launchers that were hooked to the rear of the vehicle. They then uniformly turned the muzzles towards a distant location where a purple signal flare had been dropped from an aircraft.
Chapter 346 Hunting the Ace (Part 1) (Section 440)
"Perhaps you haven't personally heard the Stuka bugle call over Dunkirk, but imagine what it would feel like to have an air raid siren sirens installed in the throat of a cow, its moo rising and falling to become a low growl in the mountain forest."
During the landing in Sicily, an old British soldier who had participated in the French and North African campaigns described it this way: when the German army's unique and familiar six-barreled rocket launchers came crashing down on them.
The Britannian soldiers, hiding in their assault guns and KMFs, also experienced the howling wind, which was not much more peaceful than the Stukas on the German-Czech border. Although both were rocket launchers, they were certainly not as overwhelming and imposing as the Soviet Katyusha rockets, but this ominous curse, like a bald eagle in a dark forest at night, would probably be unforgettable for those who survived.
……
"Where did these rocket launchers come from? What about our fire support now?"
Angelie and Shisian were leading their team, and they were doing a good job of blocking the advance of the US forces in another direction. However, without Ipel, the long-range artillery immediately ran into trouble.
"Without a strong fire support force, should we still launch an attack?" The question the two men raised to their superiors was quickly dismissed—"Stop or defeat as many American troops as possible at all costs, and keep their attention focused on Hamburg and the surrounding cities."
What kind of gambling is this? Ask the officers and generals, and everyone just says "Don't ask," as if the higher-ups are hiding some earth-shattering conspiracy from the frontline soldiers.
Fortunately, Angelina and Shisian were farsighted and believed that Her Highness Elizabeth, sitting far away in Berlin, might have some plan that she wanted to keep secret—which made sense, since before the entire army upgraded the identification systems of PDAs and combat vehicles, the US and the USSR almost managed to thoroughly understand the expeditionary force around Berlin by using the magnetic cards they found on their corpses.
For the next three or four days, they and the American troops were like two snakes entangled in a quagmire. They couldn't sleep at night, just like when facing the Soviet army. Even when sleeping on the grass with the KMF, they had to keep their eyes open and watch out. The only thing that could help them deal with the tank corps was the armed helicopters.
At dawn that day, the American troops finally retreated, leaving behind a pile of corpses and wrecked vehicle bodies—if they had held out for another day, they might have truly perished.
Coincidentally, an unexpected bonus arrived: the American paratroopers who had nearly killed Ipel a while back reappeared. Yes, those same guys who mounted recoilless rifles and heavy machine guns on the back of jeeps and ran around everywhere.
“I told you my hunch wouldn’t be wrong. But…” Xixi’an held the binoculars up to her eyes, getting a clear look at the paratroopers’ uniforms, “Do you remember how the prisoners of war from District 45 mocked us back then?”
"'A theater actor, wearing what could be considered indecent costume, fell in front of a machine gun.' Ha, at first I thought the workmanship and aesthetic sense of the people in District 45's clothes were really that bad..."
"So why are you so concerned about the mistakes we made in the past? Look at these people, dressed so stylishly in jackets and leather boots, even American men in plain clothes who are still wearing leg wraps are drooling over them."
"Just like those young men in black who coveted our knightly attire back then, but now look down on us, huh?" Angelie forced a weak laugh. "So today it's 'elite in disguise' versus 'elite in disguise'?"
“A gentleman doesn’t have to wait ten years to take revenge, especially when there’s a great benefit to be gained.”
The quick-witted and decisive Xixi'an made the decision for Angelie. The whole team, including those in black military uniforms and the knights, immediately seized the opportunity and attacked the jeeps from both ends. Before the recoilless rifles on the jeeps could even be reloaded, the machine guns of the KMF and the autocannons of the infantry fighting vehicles took down the soldiers in the front vehicle.
The paratroopers were thrown into disarray in an instant—jeeps aren't tanks that can just drive straight into a pile of metal. In their panic, they all overturned on the roadside, their wheels rolling into a heap. The remaining few hurriedly drove off the gravel road and sped off into the wilderness.
The KMFs chased after the jeeps, watching them run incredibly fast yet jolting violently. The soldiers on board didn't even dare to reload their M2 heavy machine guns, let alone load the recoilless rifles to return fire.
Aside from dodging and weaving in front of the gun barrel, the only thing to do was to keep your body as low as possible and toss the grenades hanging on your body behind you haphazardly.
……
Luckily, the surviving jeeps gradually pulled away from them in the dry wildflower field. The infantry fighting vehicle and Sunderland were left far behind, with only Angelina and Sissian's Vincent keeping up.
If there were more bumps and potholes, the Jeep would probably have crashed and been destroyed long ago, while the KMF might have been able to jump up and show off.
"Something's not right?" Xixi'an's passionate pursuit seemed to have activated the bloodline inherited from her father, but Angelie seemed to have sensed something—the soldiers' jeeps seemed to be becoming more organized. She tried to cut in from the direction the jeeps were turning to force them to stop, but they stubbornly darted past her instead.
"No car is coming out as bait; we might have fallen into a trap!"
As soon as he heard Angeli's words, Xixi'an slammed on the brakes. A shell flew from afar and landed near them, but all he could see were bushes as tall as a person, and he couldn't even spot an American tank.
There must be enemy artillery hidden there, because the paratroopers' jeeps promptly headed towards it. Just as they were wondering whether to split up and go ahead to investigate, a familiar uninvited guest suddenly jumped out of a ditch.
"Damn it, it's that skunk with the peanut in its mouth again?" The nimble, tready figure swerved past Angelie. They saw the Chaffee tank with "peanut" written on it again. Vincent ignored the two of them and headed straight for the slow-moving assault guns at the back of the formation.
Damn it, the elite "paratroopers" didn't even get a perfect ending, and now another elite with a tracked sled has arrived. Xia Fei swiftly circled around to the flanks and rear of the assault guns, expertly taking out all their engines one by one with her 75mm guns.
"Stop it!" While frantically dealing with the unidentified direct fire from afar, and frantically leading everyone in circles with "Peanut," Xixi'an and Angelie finally got a taste of how the cunning 45th District infantry fought against them, these Nutcracker superheroes, with their bare hands.
Assault guns can't get past it by the neck, and machine guns and cannons can easily take it down, but unfortunately, it's a tank after all, not a half-track like the KMF, which could probably tear the hatch apart with its bare hands.
What's even more deadly is that everyone's attention was almost entirely focused on the "peanut," just like how American soldiers and Soviet Red Army soldiers used to be so focused on their elite pilots that they couldn't pay attention to the battlefield—they almost forgot that the direct fire coming from the front easily opened the can of assault guns, and the infantry fighting vehicles that didn't have time to reverse were smashed to pieces like chicken bones under a cleaver in an instant.
Now Xixi'an was getting impatient. If they couldn't deal with this incredibly fast skunk, even if they managed to retreat from the battlefield, this guy would keep chasing them and reporting their location. They'd have to throw out a green smoke screen to call in an American airstrike...
"Use that trick! It doesn't want to stop, does it?!"
After giving a signal, Xixi'an gradually slowed down, creating considerable distance between them, and watched from afar as Angeli and Xiafei continued their high-speed entanglement.
"Now!" Seeing Xiafei suddenly make a sharp left turn, Angelie quickly raised her hand to signal, and Vincent of Xixi'an immediately stepped on the gas, threw away his weapon, and lunged at Xiafei's aircraft with his two arms outstretched.
Just before the two planes collided, Angelie took a horse stance with her own plane to one side, grabbed the mechanical arm of Xixi'an's plane, and saw the latter jump out of the cockpit. With lightning speed, she twisted her body with the momentum and threw the sky-blue KMF at Xiafei with all her might, like throwing a hammer.
The 7-ton Vincent crashed into the 18-ton Chaffee, just like a small car colliding with a speeding van. The two steel contraptions, with their vastly different shapes, slammed into each other and rolled on the ground into a large steel ball filled with gray smoke.
Seeing Vincent's limbs dislocated or shattered, the once arrogant "Peanut" finally gave up, lying upside down with its two tracks in the air, no longer moving.
"This is insane..." Now that they were safe, Angelina hurriedly got out of the plane and carried Xixi'an into her own aircraft—she had accidentally hit a rock while jumping and vaguely heard an ominous sound coming from her hip.
Is it really necessary to degrade yourself like this?
“Ha, do you know how the people of District 45 view us on the battlefield?” Xixi’an was in a daze, and smiled with difficulty in Angelie’s arms. “‘Even if it’s a platoon, a company, or even a squadron of planes and tanks, it’s worth it. Weapons and monotonous soldiers are endless, but when an ace dies, he’s really dead.’”
……
"Sch...Scheisse!" The being capable of tearing through the armor of an assault gun head-on was still roaring, but it wasn't saying English.
They cursed as they watched the Chaffee flip over, but thankfully the tide of battle was turning in their favor—the Britannian army was slowly and steadily retreating, leaving behind burning vehicles and American paratroopers who had overturned with the jeeps.
"Loss, lose!" The crowd responded and emerged from behind cover, grabbing Mauser rifles and MP40s to clear the area.
However, the fastest runner was Hans, who was carrying a G43 and a medical kit and wearing a paratrooper helmet. He had met the American soldiers in Jürzen a few days ago, and now he was rushing to the jeep where the Yankees were struggling with their wounds. He left the German soldiers with their large-brimmed steel helmets and two StuG III assault guns that crawled out of the bushes far behind him.
Before everyone could catch their breath, an ominous sound gradually approached from the distant sky: it was the Hadron mortar that had been giving the US military the biggest headache recently, firing like a howitzer from afar, leaving the Germans, who had only recently arrived at the front lines, completely stunned.
The two StuG III assault guns nearly lost their brakes, as clumps of the hadron cannons crashed into them less than 50 meters away, blocking their pursuit and forcing them to watch Angelie and the others escape.
……
“Ipel?” Angelie was surprised. How could this girl, whose hand was burned by white phosphorus, be so reckless?
"Turn southeast, Lieutenant!" At this moment, Ypel was accompanied by two ordinary Sunderland soldiers, along with Vincent, who was operating the hadron cannon. Sunderland was carrying several energy packs to charge the hadron cannon.
"What are you doing! My dear child!" Angelie was terrified. Just thinking about how much pain Ypel's bandaged hand was gripping the control lever made her want to stop. "Stop it! You're causing trouble for others!"
“I’m no trouble for anyone! Angelie!” Ypel screamed frantically. “I’ve seen you! Keep going! I can protect you all by myself!”
But none of this was Angelie's biggest worry. She hadn't been passing by Ypel for long when she heard enemy artillery fire raining down on her again—were the Americans now treating her alone as a whole artillery unit?
Perhaps the Americans had a particularly good reason—unsurprisingly, Ypel, as if with foresight, had already dodged out of the artillery fire zone and, from another location, launched a precise counterattack with a hadron cannon at the rear artillery positions of the American forces that had just attacked him.
"There are other comrades behind me who are repairing!" Before coming here, she had already met with the long-range artillery support team she had led before, and insisted that they were not needed because they would expose and hinder the assault guns and KMFs that were still under repair and damaged by rocket artillery.
"I'll retreat in half an hour! The enemy won't catch up so quickly!"
However, just as she confidently continued to fight off the pursuing German soldiers and American artillery, a terrifying sound came from behind her comrades whom she was protecting.
"Sergeant Ypel! We're under attack! It's the American army, they have tanks!"
"Tanks? How is that possible? What kind of tank could be so fast, running alongside jeeps?!"
Chapter 347, Section 441: Hunting the Ace (Part 2)
A year ago in the Lut Desert, soldiers of the Middle Eastern Federation were driving land cruisers that were more than ten meters tall, clumsily exchanging fire with the Britannian army's assault guns from a distance, when Princess Cornelia and her group of KMFs sped up and disappeared into the blind spot of the firepower right under their bodies.
Several months ago, on the coast of Bordeaux, France, EU soldiers piloted Wild Bee mechs, suppressing the Britannian landing force from a high vantage point. Suddenly, a bright white grim reaper descended from the sky. Lancelot flew into the EU ranks, and Suzaku Kururugi also arrived, declaring, "The outcome is decided. I will not attack those who surrender."
Besides the one-sided massacres, the two incidents also gave the word "ace" a deeper meaning in the minds of the imperial soldiers and civilians: finally appearing in places other than the front lines of the battlefield, wearing an unusual cloak.
They should have arrived at District 45, a place where the masses could leave behind the past and study hard, but they found that it was quite difficult to shake off this label: first, there was the Soviet army's silver doves leading the counterattack against Tristan in the rear, and now there are American paratroopers riding in jeeps with guns and cannons to infiltrate and sabotage—just like two years ago when they were relentlessly pursued by 88mm guns during Operation Market Garden.
However, compared to Cornelia and Suzaku Kururugi, who were essentially one-man armies, the people of the 45th district were more opportunistic and cooperative.
That's perhaps the charm of District 45, even though nobody wants to be the one suffering in a play.
……
The expeditionary force of the long-range artillery support team had clearly incurred too much hatred from the American paratroopers—not only wherever they attacked, but even when they fled, the paratroopers would launch a mortar attack and then mysteriously chase after them in jeeps.
Having learned from the previous incident at the substation, they weren't caught off guard this time. The KMF and vehicles on alert immediately rushed out, blocking the jeeps outside and buying time for the assault guns.
However, this time the paratroopers were better prepared. Just as the two groups were locked in fierce combat, from the direction the paratrooper convoy had come from, behind a large rock in the distance, came the sound of a US 76mm tank gun.
Armor-piercing rounds pierced through the KMF's silhouette, carrying a sound and power vastly different from those on the jeep, easily ripping open the assault guns behind them.
Why a tank? Heavy machine guns and recoilless rifles are always carried by small vehicles. Neither the M4 nor the T-34 of the US and the Soviet Union ever had such a light and fast speed to accompany them. What kind of thing is that thing hiding behind a rock with the outline of a tank turret?
“Sir, I see the enemy is retreating from the northeast of the town. Should I relay this to my superiors? Pat calling.”
Jonathan stayed with the "tank" crew—the commander took over the position of the fallen loader, leaving the sergeant alone to hold up binoculars and, together with the M2 heavy machine gunner, lean out and guard the turret of the M18 Hellcat tank destroyer.
The town was in complete chaos, but this also gave the soldiers some opportunities to slip through: for example, Pat and his sniper rifle had been called away by the paratroopers, and now he had taken advantage of the confusion to sneak into...
"You heard that, buddy?" He leaned down and relayed his subordinate's reply to the conductor, "Take the radio in your car and ring the bell for the bosses in the back, okay?"
……
[022 Tip: The following content can be enjoyed in conjunction with the Dynasty Warriors 8 game soundtrack "CRY & SLASH: Battle of the City," although you might not want to search for the music from that trashy game -_-]
On the other side of the town of Bart Bevinson, Angelie had just handed the seriously injured Shishian over to someone else and rushed over alone to rescue the group that had been ambushed by paratrooper jeeps—she understood that Ypel's competitive nature was absolutely unacceptable and she had to get her away quickly.
"Major!" she shouted, shooing away the American jeeps that were flanking them, while contacting the town's commander who was guiding the retreat. "The evacuation route is safe, please hurry..."
Before she could say more, the air raid siren stuffed in the cow's throat went off again. The German six-barreled rocket launchers that had been swarming in like flies bombarded the area, and in an instant, not only the road leading out of the Britannian soldiers, but also the surrounding fields and vegetation became chaotic.
The roar of propellers could still be heard in the distant sky, and two American Thunderbolt fighter jets could be vaguely seen slowly approaching the town.
“This…” Angelie was stunned for a moment, but was quickly brought back to her senses by the girl on the radio and the roar of the Qiangzi cannon.
A plasma-like red blur landed in the direction from which the rocket launcher had come. She saw the grass-green Vincent heading into the town, towards the place where the men in black and the paratroopers were fighting fiercely.
"Don't linger, Ypel!" She breathed a sigh of relief, then lowered the guns from her hands on her aircraft and aimed the missile launcher on her back, which spread out like butterfly wings, at the incoming enemy plane.
"Beware of air raids, Major... Major?" What was terrifying was that what she heard was not a normal human voice reply—it sounded more like a bullet flying in from somewhere and severing her trachea and carotid artery in one go.
……
“I killed their leader, sir… uh, we might have some other troubles.”
Pat sneaked into a small house in town. Now, a group of Britannian soldiers were frantically surrounding an officer in a black overcoat, with blood splattered all over the ground like a smashed watermelon.
They cursed and swore as they helped the blood-covered officer into the vehicle, while blocking passing tanks and KMFs that were queuing up to retreat, searching for the sniper—the chaos didn't end until Ypel arrived.