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"Hey! Sergeant Campbell!" Turning around, a familiar-looking old officer, accompanied by several young men in paratrooper uniforms, was walking from the bunker's exit.
"Yes, Colonel Tucker!" The sergeant quickly wiped his face a few times with his right hand, then stood up. "Are you all alright?"
"What do you think?" The colonel chuckled, shifting his shoulders. "By the way, is that young man on your stretcher alright?"
"Well, it's alright. Although I'm not paralyzed, it will take another two or three weeks before I can pick up a gun again..."
"Alright, I'll go see him when I have time. Now, I have something to say to the gentlemen, so I'll take my leave." The colonel pursed his lips, patted the sergeant on the shoulder twice, and was about to step deeper into the bunker.
That was the command center for the generals. Campbell's superior, Major General Clifford Andrews, commander of the 1st Infantry Division, also directed all the American troops in Berlin, as well as the scattered British and French infantry, from there.
"Oh, right!" Campbell caught up with the colonel in two steps and pulled out a stack of papers from his pocket.
"I almost forgot, you'd better show these to the generals too." These were the pile of unidentified identification tags and notes. "I hope this will help everyone figure something out."
"No problem, Sergeant. Alright, don't stay here and get lice, your men are about to start clamoring for milk."
……
Jonathan had just run out the door when he suddenly bumped into a man wearing a green helmet.
"Karl?" The sergeant adjusted his helmet, looking at a familiar face in front of him.
"Sergeant?" Carl was clearly surprised as well. "Um...Is Pat alright?"
"Ah, it's just a matter of lying in bed for ten days or half a month, what about the others?"
“Bill Tommy and the other guys are all fine, the wounded have been taken care of, but…” Carl looked back and paused for a moment.
"Hey, where are they?"
……
Jonathan looked in the same direction and saw a large group of people wearing green hats gathered around a familiar yet unfamiliar black armored vehicle in the open space behind them. His buddies must have gotten separated in this crowd.
This is where we need to talk about this armored vehicle. It was indeed a bit of a novelty for these soldiers, but the sergeant and corporal seemed much calmer. After all, not long ago, they had all escaped with their lives from the massive wheels of this steel packhorse and the pair of gleaming machine guns on its roof.
Carl followed him and plunged into the crowd. Just as they reached the other end, they saw the sergeant raise his hands and slap them down on the two bewildered green helmets.
"Hey! Is your neck welded shut?"
"Ah... Boss!" Tommy turned around first, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Do you have any wine?"
"No! Get out!" The sergeant pinched his chin, pushed him away, and asked another soldier.
"Bill, have you seen any of the other guys in our class?"
"No, I was wondering the same thing, but logically they shouldn't have come back before us..."
The sergeant sighed and sat down next to a box.
Watching Tommy and Carl light cigarettes for each other, Bill sat down, pulled out some candy from somewhere, handed one to Jonathan, and then peeled his own.
……
……
After a long time.
"Hey! Sergeant Campbell!"
A soldier was waving weakly at them, and several men behind him climbed out of a parked half-track in an orderly fashion, all with dejected expressions.
“Ah, I know him,” Karl spoke first. “Sergeant Frege, who separated from us on the front lines, was one of his men…”
"Is this the place where the boss and Pat blinded that bird?" Tommy's mind started to click.
……
“Where is your superior, kid?!” Jonathan shouted as he stood up and walked toward the man.
“Sergeant, he…” He stopped in front of the sergeant, and it was clear that the soldier’s eyes were a little red.
The soldier did not answer him. Instead, he began to rub his fist against his chest, making a metallic crunching sound.
Immediately afterwards, a metal identification tag that was supposed to be attached to a soldier accidentally fell off and landed on the ground.
"Huh?" Before Jonathan could react, the soldier pounced and picked up the sign.
“Ahem… Sergeant…” The men following him slowly gathered behind him. “Let’s keep our two squads in check… Oh, one of your little brothers is behind us…”
……
As he spoke, he tilted his head back, and at the very end, a familiar-looking soldier came into the sergeant's view. He was carrying several rifles on his back, his face was gloomy and his teeth were clenched, his body was trembling, and he seemed to be clutching something in his hand.
"Hey!" The sergeant walked up to him first, put a hand on his shoulder, and asked softly, "Are you alright, kid?"
“Sergeant…” The soldier raised his head, his reddened eyes not filled with cowardly sorrow, but rather with an uncontrollable rage of revenge.
“Smith… Miller… they all…” the soldier said, his facial muscles twitching unnaturally.
Jonathan sighed, looked at the soldier's clenched fist, and extended his own hand, placing it slightly below the soldier's chest.
The soldier closed his eyes tightly, raised his clenched right fist, yelled, and slammed it hard into the sergeant's outstretched palm. Besides the soldier's indignant panting, several metallic clanging sounds echoed from the ground.
Jonathan knew exactly what had fallen to the ground, just like what the soldier had slapped into his palm—small, bloodstained metal tags with the names of his men engraved on them.
The sergeant sighed, patted the soldier on the shoulder, put his arm around him, and walked into the camp. Carl, Tommy, and everyone else who had witnessed it all watched the two leave.
Bill had already picked up the identification tags from the ground and was hurrying off to catch up with the sergeant.
"Ugh?" Tommy scoffed, watching the sergeant's departing figure. "Another shitty day?"
Looking at Karl again, he saw that Karl had taken the half-burnt cigarette out of his mouth and was holding the cigarette roll with the tip of his right thumb and forefinger like a pair of pliers.
With a snap in his throat, the cigarette broke in two between Karl's fingers, falling to the ground with stray sparks.
He looked down at the insignia on his left arm, a red Arabic numeral "1"—or rather, blood red. It clung to his arm like an ugly spider.
……
"Hmph..." he uttered through gritted teeth.
“Damn 'the Bloody First'…”
[Author's Note: The U.S. Army's 1st Infantry Division was nicknamed the Big Red One. However, during World War II, the division suffered consistently high casualty rates, earning it another nickname: the Bloody First. In fact, the Big Red One was sometimes jokingly referred to as the Big Dead One, not only to more starkly depict this brutal reality, but also because "dead" and "red" do sound quite similar.]
……
……
Yeah, that's what happened a few hours ago. Now, after a good night's sleep, I still feel...
Jonathan glanced back at the tent; it was still quiet inside. There was no point in waking them up now; they should be looking for something to eat.
……
"Are you just awake, Sergeant?" someone called out to him. What a coincidence, it was Colonel Tucker passing by again.
"Ah..." The sergeant shrugged. "Yeah, I'm going to ask my superiors something..."
“Oh, no need to ask for now.” The colonel interrupted him. “Since he hasn’t come looking for you, then you and your group must have been included in their ‘evacuation plan’.”
"Retreat?" Jonathan suddenly perked up. "What does that mean?"
"Well, let me tell you about the orders Ike gave us..."
……
More than 20 kilometers to the east, on that high ground where Yak-9 fighters had previously provided support.
The cannons still roared relentlessly, but here, on this undulating ground, it was relatively quiet. A group of Soviet soldiers had just pushed a bunch of new cannons onto this spot.
But the quietest place was in the ever-growing and increasingly longer trenches to their west, where the same comrades in their various uniforms still lingered. The only slightly annoying thing was that wireless radio over there.
……
"Really?" Two people were standing around it, one was the operator, and the other was Lieutenant Anton, who was gripping the headset and microphone tightly.
"Yes, you heard me right..." The voice on the other end of the radio was both relaxed and dissatisfied.
"Orders have come down from above. Marshal Zhukov has already made arrangements with General Eisenhower of the United States. Both sides must cease all fighting in Berlin by 18:00 today. At that time, most of the troops that entered the city will withdraw, and..."
……
Our gaze returns to the front of the Berlin Botanical Garden, where Jonathan and Colonel Tucker are standing.
"After the ceasefire, we'll head to the train station in the south, pack our belongings, leave this damned Berlin, and meet up with our brothers in Frankfurt. The generals are already planning the missions for each unit. If you have any questions, go ask your superior. That's all I can tell you in advance, okay?"
“Oh, okay, sir.” The sergeant took a deep breath. “Thank you, I’ll take care of it.”
"Also..." the colonel chuckled, pulling a large, unopened bar of chocolate from his pocket. "Did some hen sneak into your stomach while you were sleeping...?"
"Uh... this..." Jonathan touched his stomach, smiled awkwardly, and accepted the colonel's offer with both hands.
"If we're summoned to Munich, you'll be waiting for me to come."
"Ha! I'd like to try those sausages too, but it's a shame... I'm afraid there won't be a beer festival this year! Yay!" The colonel playfully flicked his nose.
Hahahaha! —
The two men smiled at each other, and after a crisp salute, Jonathan watched Colonel Tucker get into a jeep that had been waiting for a long time.
Section 29, Chapter Seventeen: Dilemmas and Doubts, Complex and Intertwined
The sky over Berlin turned blood red again, not from the smoke and flames of yesterday, but from the fiery clouds of the setting sun.
Compared to yesterday's sunset, none of the dilapidated buildings were submerged in the mud from the noisy gunfire, as if the gunfights of the past two days had never happened. It felt like going back a few days, a few weeks ago, to the days when the Imperial Eagle fell from the sky, and the Stars and Stripes and the Red Star strolled calmly through the streets, witnessing the arrival and departure of ragged refugees.
……
The city streets were completely deserted, devoid of any pedestrians, whether American or Soviet soldiers carrying guns and artillery or German civilians with tattered bags and worn-out packs. The empty streets and dilapidated buildings had become even more decadent.
Burning, shattered dolls, armored vehicles tilted to the sky, and stiff, twisted tracked behemoths—green, purple, blue, and black steel shells—stood alongside newly collapsed walls, further fragmenting and disintegrating Berlin's streets. Crimson plum blossoms, accompanied by dazzling flames, smeared these metallic pantomime figures, scattering plumes of inky air filled with the stench of burning and fish.
……
Those who wanted to "break into" the city have returned to the front lines in the suburbs, while those who are "defending their positions" in the city are beginning to sit down anxiously at their last dinner table—even if it's not really their last meal, that's at least what they're thinking now.
……
……
Aside from the unfinished mess—collapsed turrets, barracks, and the wreckage of vehicles and mechs—there was nothing to look forward to. Besides, if you cared about these things, it meant you were being urged by your superiors to clean it up, not sitting around eating and watching.
The only things worth reminiscing about are the city gate on the east side—if I remember correctly, it's called "Brandenburg"—and the grand palace on the northeast side, which I think is called "Reichstag," though that's probably not the English name.
I never expected to see such solemn and classical buildings in a place like the castles of the Britannian Empire—although the building materials look different.
And the key point is that it hasn't been destroyed after so long, so it doesn't seem like a preferred target for the enemy.
Soldiers and officers often let their imaginations run wild, but their commanders had little interest in such things.
"Is the radio fixed?" On the steps of the Capitol, Caronville and Colonel Cary asked a soldier standing there.
"No problem, sir. Area 11 should have been waiting for quite some time."
"Okay... okay..."
……
On the other side, in another world, the Tokyo Concession City Hall is bathed in the red glow of the setting sun.
The large conference room was gradually filled with generals and dignitaries, who were still chatting quietly with their neighbors, indicating that the meeting had not yet begun.
Seated at the head table was Schneizel, the second prince and the head of the meeting, who naturally wouldn't chat with everyone about trivial matters. He simply leaned back quietly in his chair, one hand supporting his head, which was tilted slightly to his left shoulder, while the other hand rested on the table in front of him, holding a piece of paper that looked like a report or list.
The meeting room was almost full; now, only the rightmost seat closest to me was empty.
"Sassler," the prince shifted to his left, asking the duke sitting next to him, "who is this seat reserved for?"
"Your Highness, this is..."
Just then, a slightly anxious sound of footsteps came from outside the door. Everyone looked over and saw the First Prince Odysseus, slightly out of breath, stepping into the doorway.
"Well, speak of the devil and he appears," the Duke muttered.
"I apologize for being a little late, my esteemed subjects..." Odysseus greeted everyone with a smile as he walked toward the chair next to Schneizel.
"Why is he here?" Schneizel pressed the Duke. "He should be out there dealing with mundane matters."
"Ahem, I heard Prince Odysseus say that if those matters could have been resolved sooner, he would have come to sit in on the war situation meeting in the New World... So, it seems that we have exceeded our expectations..."
At this moment, Odysseus had already walked to this seat, nodded to Schneizel, and pulled out a chair to sit down.