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Page 251
"You all retreat away from this area, while I cover the rear!"
The paratroopers' jeeps caught up with them in an instant, but this time they panicked when they saw Vincent and quickly swerved, slipping away behind the fence before Ypel could take aim.
One of the Thunder fighter jets in the sky was shot down by Angelie's missile, and a bird with eight .50 machine guns chased after them, but did not open fire rashly.
The paratroopers in the jeep recognized him immediately; it was indeed the green doll with whom they had a grudge. Like a pack of orcas hunting in droves, they relentlessly pursued Ipper.
Seeing the lightning strike, the jeeps hurriedly scattered to both sides, dodging the hail of bullets falling like hail from the machine guns on the wings. Vincent of Ypel also frantically used his grappling hook to grab onto a nearby house, gliding and leaping behind the jeeps. He dodged several rounds of machine gun fire from the jeeps, aimed at the wheel, and fired a shot that sent it into the rubble heap in the crater.
The Willys Jeep is only a little over 200 kilograms, so naturally it wouldn't dare to floor the accelerator like a hammer like the Chaffee and T-34. But by keeping its distance from the speeding KMF, it was revealing its confidence.
In the distance, 76mm tank guns were firing at them; those who dared to venture deep behind enemy lines with these paratroopers must be formidable figures. Ipel decisively sheathed his nearly depleted hadron cannon, turned to evade the machine guns and recoilless rifles mounted on the jeep, and grabbed a carbines from the side of a disintegrating KMF.
The jeeps chased her to the town square, only to find Vincent lying face down, lance in hand like a hockey player, facing them. Before the paratroopers could realize anything was wrong, Ypel slammed on the brakes, sending the suddenly stopped lance toward the bumper of the jeep.
In an instant, the two jeeps and the people in them were looted, and pieces of metal and flesh were scattered all over the ground. The lightning in the sky saw that the paratroopers had suffered heavy losses and was in a hurry to correct its attack course.
At this moment, Pat was glad that he hadn't hitched a ride with these paratroopers and risked his life. Amidst the chaos and the gunfire behind him, he fled towards the town's elementary school.
"I've entered the school's teaching building, cough!... I trust you won't abandon my sergeant!"
“Now’s not the time to rest, buddy!” Jonathan replied with a whooshing sound on the radio. “Climb up the clock tower of the school building! I need you to tell me where that green Nutcracker has gone!”
"Oh my God, they left the square and started shooting all over the street!" Pat grinned incredulously, his teeth bulging, as he held up the scope of his Springfield sniper rifle. "Has the Russians been spending the last few months fighting these weirdos on the front lines?!"
……
"Your safety is the greatest help to me, thank you!" Ipel, who was covering the rear alone, refused the soldiers who had already left the town and wanted to return to help.
It was clear that the American fighter jets in the sky weren't interested in the large group of people at all; they were heading straight for her, this colorful iron giant—it was probably no different from when I was fighting to the death with the Third Knight of the Round Table and the Silver Dove in the sky.
“If not a knight before His Majesty the Emperor’s Round Table, then at least a knight who protects his comrades, or the last knight of his family…” Seeing the Thunder Fighter swooping down at high speed toward her, in a flash, Ypel mustered all her strength to make Vincent grab the lance handle with both hands, spin him around a few times, and throw him high into the air.
"Asshole!" The paratroopers on the jeep were dumbfounded. The pilot of the Thunder, seeing the huge lump at first glance, thought it was a V2 rocket spinning in front of his face to carry out an air defense mission. He hurriedly swerved to the side to avoid the attack, but the flying gun was still relentless and smashed off the vertical stabilizer of his aircraft.
Pat was still at the school using his gun to deal with the few pursuers who were surrounding him, when he saw Lightning dragging a tattered tail as it ran away in a huff. Vincent of Ypel once again mounted the hadron cannon on the mechanical arm and aimed around. The paratroopers were still stubbornly determined to step into hell, while he could only watch helplessly, anxiously.
Just then, he heard the sound of a 76mm tank gun coming from the direction the enemy had gone in the town.
……
"What happened?!" Yiper, caught in the midst of the battle, was also startled by the strange noise and the reply from his allies.
It's already absurd enough that the "tank" followed the jeep, but how did it manage to get ahead of the smaller cars and circle around to their rear?!
Anxious and uneasy, they left the paratroopers far behind, only to find the expeditionary force officers and soldiers in a state of panic when they arrived at the rear. According to them, it was a tank without a turret top that came like lightning, set fire to several of the team's vehicles, and then disappeared like lightning.
Following the tracks of the treadmill, Ypel, alert yet bewildered, returned to town to hunt down the uninvited guest. Amidst the strangeness, she felt a mysterious engine roar behind her, only to realize that she had become the mantis stalking the oriole.
Jonathan, sitting on the roof of the M18 tank destroyer, caught up with them and opened fire on the KMF with his M2 heavy machine gun. In her panic, Ypel carelessly let a bullet graze Vincent's neck joint and fly into the cockpit. The shards of shrapnel flashed and cut three almost parallel cuts on her cheekbone and earlobe.
Even more unexpectedly, he couldn't shake it off at all! Vincent gripped the grappling hook onto the house and made a sharp turn, while M18 maintained high speed by making a small side turn and drifted through two intersections; Vincent sped along the main road, and M18 stuck to the back, not even changing the gunner's caliper; Vincent stepped on the wall and flew back to the town square, and M18 actually followed, stepping on a pile of dirt and rising into the air, crashing down in front of Ypel next to the fountain in the center of the square.
What on earth is going on? Usually, it's the KMF chasing American jeeps, Soviet trucks, and British armored vehicles. Why is it that now the "tanks" are chasing and biting them like rabid dogs?!
……
"Where are you, Sergeant?"
At this time, Pat was still hiding inside the teaching building. The enemy soldiers who were surrounding him had caught up sporadically, and it was almost impossible for him to hold on any longer.
Just then, he heard the unique sound of the KMF's drive wheels scraping against the ground. Peeking out through a crack in the wall, he saw that Yper's KMF, disregarding the tank destroyers relentlessly pursuing it from behind, resolutely aimed its hadron cannon at the building where it was.
"Do not!--"
Following a roar from the hadron cannon, accompanied by the crashing sound of the school building's brick walls shattering, Ypel gritted his teeth, wiped the blood from his face, and with all his might, turned Vincent 180 degrees again and pulled the trigger, as the breechblock of the 76mm tank gun clicked.
The jet from the hadron cannon and the shell from the M18 grazed each other in the air in the blink of an eye. The hull of the M18 and Vincent's torso were lifted into the air as their eyes met, and crashed into two flying sparks and fragments in front of the teaching building.
The school playground fell silent in an instant.
Chapter 348, Section 442: Hunting the Ace (Part 2)
In 2009, a year of heightened tensions between Britannia, Japan, and the EU, Ypel's parents, returning to their military post after their holiday and preparing to take their son, who was also considering enlisting, to the recruit camp, were waiting at the station for their daughter, who was running towards them breathlessly.
"Oh, darling, what brings you here?" Eddie Hill had just turned 18, and Ipel, who was still in junior high school, was far from reaching the 1.65-meter height she would become as an adult.
"I took half a day off, hehe." Ypel's father and grandfather were all dedicated soldiers who were away from home for many years, and the whole class knew that. The teacher was also a reasonable person.
"When your brother isn't home anymore, remember to listen to Grandma." It seems that Mom and Dad had planned this unexpected farewell with their daughter in advance. They affectionately patted her head and the brand-new emerald hair clip on her head. "On the way, your brother said that our good daughter has been acting a little silly when she reads and studies since she started wearing this."
"Hey? You, you, you, you, you're talking bad about me again, aren't you?" Ypel pouted and suddenly hugged her brother. "You're going to the army to be a great hero, and now you're making fun of me, huh?!"
“I’m no hero. I just want to do what I can in the army, like helping more of my comrades survive.” Eddie Hill smiled and touched his sister’s nose. “I’m saying this because I hope this little darling of our family can grow up quickly.”
The atmosphere was slightly tense. Ipel blinked blankly at him, then suddenly took a step forward and with a burst of strength, lifted Eddie Hill up along with all the large bags and small backpacks he was carrying.
"Hey! Put me down!" Mom and Dad laughed from ear to ear. Eddie Hill's body was almost parallel to the ground. If Ipel had bent her waist and knees a little further back, it would have been a standard back throw—this little girl with inexplicable strength had always been the family's source of joy since she came into this world.
"You misunderstood me!" Eddie Hill coughed a few times after his sister put him down. "Growing up isn't about strength, it's about things like how you interact with people, how you're reasonable, huh?"
Ypel smiled sweetly, took out a new grass-green headscarf from her schoolbag, and gestured for her brother to lower his head.
“I remember that every time my brother helped me with math problems, his forehead would be covered in cold sweat. When you walk away, people will applaud you, but who will wipe your sweat?”
……
On February 12, 1942, the 133rd anniversary of President Abraham Lincoln's birth, Jonathan, who had taken off his farm work clothes, and Davis, who had taken off his police uniform, were waiting at the village entrance for the military's special vehicle to pick up new recruits.
"Ah, my dear little grandson." Turning around, I saw Jonathan's grandmother in a wheelchair being pushed by someone, coming to see them off.
This terrified the two of them, because their grandmother had been seriously ill and had only been out of bed a few days earlier—Davis had a good relationship with their family and knew about this.
Grandma held Jonathan in her arms, gently patting his strong yet tender back, and told her beloved grandson an old story—Jonathan's grandfather was an American soldier in World War I, but unfortunately he was a bit hot-headed and received news of his death in battle before he could even travel to Europe by ship for many days.
"Have you remembered, my dear little one?" Grandma's eyes were brimming with tears. "On the battlefield, amidst the hail of bullets, those petty thugs who could be dealt with by fists and axes in the past are nothing but child's play. Now that you're a soldier, in the trenches, remember to listen to your officers. You're my only grandson."
“Oh, Officer.” Grandma then hugged Davis again, repeatedly warning him, “Jonathan always acts impulsively. If something happens to him, you’ll be the only one left to deal with him…”
"Please rest assured, Madam Campbell." Davis nodded knowingly. "The police officers who protect the peace of the area will remember to make sure that those around them come back alive when they go to the battlefield."
……
“Captain? Pat?” Jonathan woke up from the cold ground, subconsciously calling out the names of his former superiors and his subordinates.
The machine gun's barrel was still around his waist, and he felt a stinging pain all over half his body. The skin on the front of his right calf was completely rubbed off—if his clothes hadn't been relatively well-covered, the iron fragments stuck all over his body would probably have pierced directly into his bones and intestines.
While gritting his teeth and trying to pull the fragments, along with his own blood, out of his skin, he staggered to his feet, only to fall to the ground again.
The M18 tank destroyer stood before him in an unbelievable state of disarray—he was on the machine gun on the left side of the turret, and thankfully, Ypel's hadron gun had torn the entire right half of the vehicle to shreds in an instant, leaving only the left half teetering on the ground like a lotus root split in two, as if a strong wind could topple it over.
Should we be lucky that the Ipel's hadron gun was an uncontrolled, cheap, and ineffective weapon? It was terrible. Not to mention that the commander and radio operator, who were in the top right loader position, were completely destroyed, the driver was left with only half a face, half a stomach, and his left arm, and the gunner was on the verge of death, but he also lost his right arm and right calf.
How did Jonathan find the dying gunner? The latter, with his astonishing resilience, actually crawled out of the tank destroyer, dragging a long trail of blood across a shallow trench carved into the ground by the hadron cannon, and lay down in front of the elementary school building.
"There are gunshots inside the building." The gunner, his blood barely contained by Jonathan's clothes, gestured towards Ipper's plane. "The hatch is open. That bitch probably escaped."
After much deliberation, Jonathan decided to leave the gunner behind and take the M1 carbine from his neck as well—he had already given his own pistol to Pat for self-defense.
Vincent of Ypel fell in front of the clock tower of the teaching building. His entire left side had been almost completely destroyed by the 76mm gun. Fortunately, the cockpit still looked intact. Amidst the flying sparks, only the communicator was left with a long static sound and dark red blood.
"He... upstairs!... Ah!..." The intermittent words could still be heard with gunshots coming from inside the teaching building. If the owner of KMF hadn't fled in fear, he would have rushed to help immediately upon hearing the Britannian soldiers shouting like that.
The first floor of the teaching building was burning red-hot at some point, and thick smoke was billowing out like a dam being opened. Jonathan had no choice but to climb onto the hadron cannon and go directly to the second floor—a killing machine that looked similar to the KMF's recoilless rifle but was a size larger and had many extra accessories installed, which was also leaning against the wall.
The injury to my leg started to flare up repeatedly, and the excruciating pain nearly made me fall several times. But when I heard gunshots coming from inside the building, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and keep going.
"I want to see him alive or dead... We can't let it be like Davis..."
……
There were two or three corpses of men in black in the hallways and classrooms. The assault rifles beside them were gone, and the bullets in their bags had all been taken. The gunfire in the building stopped abruptly, with only the faint sound of someone being kicked down and rolling down the slope.
He dared not shout directly, as that would be tantamount to alerting the enemy.
Just then, looking at his own shadow in front of him, he suddenly saw another shadow leaping down from the collapsed ceiling above him. He felt as if someone had kicked him in mid-air with both legs together, sending him flying more than ten feet away.
Jonathan hurriedly got up to pick up the M1 that had fallen to the ground, only to see a long-haired figure rushing towards him in three steps, four arms tightly wrapped around the carbine that was less than a meter long. In the dim light, the two men, gritting their teeth, began to look at the guy in front of them in disbelief.
"You son of a bitch, she really is just a little girl?!"
"Oh no, another one?"
It really was Ypel. Apart from a few bloodstains and scattered spots from the burns on her face, she was indeed a girl whose nose wasn't even as high as Jonathan's.
Despite their size difference, the two fought fiercely. In the chaos, the carbine triggers fired several shots, scattering bullets all over the walls and ceiling. The burly soldier was kicked, aggravating his leg wound. Finally, Ypel headbutted him and threw him over her shoulder, leaving him dazed from the fall.
"Six months ago... I swore before my brother's tombstone that I would never be a deserter..." Ypel knelt on the ground, clutching a wound that had appeared on his chest at some unknown time, and picked up his carbine to check the magazine.
“From the day I lost my knighthood insignia, I understood… there are never enough people to return alive from the battlefield… unless every enemy is wiped out…”
……
Just as she was about to push the magazine into the bolt, Pat, who had been missing in the school building for a long time, suddenly rushed out from behind a cabinet. Unfortunately, the slide jammed just a few seconds after she raised her hand, and the bullet only hit Ypel's right arm.
The carbine magazine slipped from his right hand, bouncing past Jonathan and falling down the broken floor. By the time Jonathan regained his strength to get up, Ipper had already beaten Pat so badly with the butt of his rifle that he was helpless—even he, a rough old man from Texas, was no match for him, let alone a scholar from Princeton University.
The girl kicked him down and pinned him under the cabinet. However, Ypel seemed to be exhausted, and he lost his balance and fell to the ground. As he staggered to his feet, he spat out a mouthful of blood.
Jonathan quietly tried to squat down, but felt something hard in his pants pocket.
He pulled one out, and there it was—the gleaming gold shield-shaped medal! Wasn't it exactly the same as the pattern of the Knights' emblem sewn onto the left sleeve of Ypel's clothes? He looked at the bullet marks left by the Springfield bullet on the medal in his hand, and then at the torn patch on Ypel's collar.
Jonathan roared furiously, clutching the golden medal tightly in his hand. Ipel was caught off guard, and in an instant, the tip of the Shield Knights emblem pierced her eye like a sharp knife.
"Ah!..." She screamed and staggered back a few steps, only to see Jonathan rush in front of her again, pulling her towards him with one hand, and clenching his other hand into a fist like an iron hammer, punching the circlet stuck in Ypel's eye again like a nail.
"This is Tommy's substitute!" Grabbing Ipper by the collar and pulling her closer, he raised his hand and punched Tuan Zhang.
"This punch is for the paratroopers!" Blood splattered from his eyelids, covering half of Jonathan's face and staining Ipper's white shirt collar.
"You son of a bitch, you alien visitor!" Tuan Zhang was punched off-center, leaving a black and red mark on Ipel's nose.
"In the end, this is all your fault for hitting Pat!"
Just as he threw a punch, Ipel somehow found the strength to lift her leg and kick Jonathan in the chest. Jonathan's punch missed and hit his nose, and the two fell to the ground face to face once again.
"Heh, heh heh heh, she really is a stubborn, arrogant orphan... Wh-what?"
Jonathan stood up, intending to mock Ypel—she was kneeling on the ground, her upper body curled up, her only remaining mobile left arm covering her head against the floor, and the whimpering sounds she made made her look like a girl in pain, covering her face.
But when she got up and looked closely, Jonathan almost vomited: she had just been piecing her nose back together?! The metal badge was still stuck in Ypel's bloody, mangled eye, and she could barely open one eye. Blood from her nose and eyes flowed into her lips, mixing with the fishy smell in her mouth.
……
"Sergeant!"
Pat was trapped under the cabinet, unable to move, and could only watch helplessly as Ypel charged at Jonathan once again. Amidst the billowing smoke, the two figures clung to each other, and then stumbled and plummeted towards the broken floor behind them.
"NO!"
In a flash, Jonathan grabbed the crack in the floor with both hands, while Ipel's left hand, clinging tightly to his collar, was also hanging from the broken floorboards—the two of them were hanging there in front of the raging fire that was gradually rising down below.
"Let me go, you bitch!" Jonathan couldn't kick her away, and he didn't have the extra time to pry open the girl's hand, which was wrapped in bandages and looked mottled, as she was gripping him like an eagle.
Ipel simply looked up at him, her face covered in blood and wounds, staring at Jonathan's panicked expression. Her broken right arm and legs swayed with the current in the air between the buildings, and she smiled softly as the soldiers cursed at her.
What did it look like? It's hard to say. Was it the relief of seeing each other perish, or the sight of the three relatives smiling through the opening gates of heaven that the eyes that no longer exist had longed for?
……
“Sir!…” Turning around, Jonathan heard Pat’s almost dying cry—he dragged his body, which was pressed down by the cabinet, and crawled desperately on the ground to the pistol that Ypel had knocked down. With trembling, bloodied hands, he disassembled the pistol, picked out the strange bullet stuck in the bolt, pushed the magazine with three bullets left, and slid the pistol in front of Jonathan.
At the critical moment, the sergeant bit the incoming M1911, took a deep breath, and in the blink of an eye, freed his right hand to load the pistol between his clenched teeth, then placed it on the girl's left wrist.
Three heavy gunshots echoed in the corridor. She stared at her wrist bone, which had been broken by the bullet, before falling into the sea of fire below. Jonathan watched in disbelief as her slender figure disappeared before his eyes like a withered lily petal.
Yes, she was truly just an ordinary girl, like the girl who came from outside the village years ago, her long, flowing black hair obscuring Ypel's calmly closed eyes and slightly parted lips. At that moment, in the firelight and the howling air, a long-lost tear flew from the corner of her eye, disappearing instantly as she fell into the flames.
……
When Jonathan found a way out and carried the nearly unconscious Pat out of the school, the paratrooper captain who had raided the substation with him earlier also arrived.
"Sergeant!" The paratroopers rushed forward and helped him up. "How...how are you?"
Jonathan simply shook his head slightly, and following everyone's attention, his eyes fixed on his collar—Ipper's left hand, with its broken wrist bone, still bore the marks of the white phosphorus burns.
A paratrooper nearby tried to pry the severed hand off, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it off.
“I can do it myself…” After thinking about Ipper’s clothes, Jonathan didn’t continue to count on his fingers—with a determined heart and a gritted tooth, he grabbed a piece of the collar with his severed hand and got off him.
"Is this a little girl's hand, or the hand of a battlefield elite? Take a guess, you guys who've finally gotten your revenge..."
Just as the paratroopers were discussing and gathered around the severed hand, which was covered in scars but still fair and clean, the fire inside the teaching building grew bigger and bigger. The hadron cannon of Ipper's aircraft, which was leaning against the building's gun barrel, tilted slightly and then fell into the fire.