Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

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"I didn't expect you to come so suddenly, Marshal... By the way, where is Marshal Rundstedt?"

“The same old problem. Last night the British flew him to London to have his heart checked.” The marshal waved his hand, about to pick up his binoculars to look in the direction where the fighting had taken place, when a sudden whiff of smoke made him cough. “Damn it…an American with a higher rank than you came here before?”

The lieutenant colonel was not very aware that Field Marshal Kesselring smoked cigars every day during World War I and only quit in 1925. Now, after Germany's defeat in another world war, he has begun to show clinical signs of throat cancer.

To date, more than 8 German soldiers who have been re-equipped have been sent to Hamburg and Bremen, but this is clearly too meager for the two former German field marshals.

As per General de Gaulle's previous plan, the reorganized German troops were to be overseen by two ailing field marshals, Kesselring and Rundstedt, while General Guderian continued to work in the rear, scavenging and repairing tanks across Western Europe to send to the front. As for Manstein, given that the Hamburg direction was primarily defensive, it was not a suitable position for the relatively healthy but imaginative field marshal to take on a major role.

"If the enemy doesn't move, we won't move either. We'll just wait for the battle to come," Kesselring ordered tactfully. "The important matters will be resolved together with the Americans and the British."

“I understand our situation, Marshal, but…” The lieutenant colonel shrugged and smiled, “This is our home. Are we going to let people from other countries fight on our land? I can tolerate this with you, but you Rhine sons and daughters who have taken up arms, do you have any shame?”

The lieutenant colonel gently patted his face as a squadron of American F4U Corsair fighters flew overhead. They had just headed to the area of ​​engagement but returned laden with bombs—what other possibility was there, besides the fact that the surviving enemy had already been wiped out by the aggressive German troops?

……

"This is Germany, and the Germans call the shots here, so you Americans should just stay in the back and recover from your injuries."

A stable front determines whether a field hospital can remain in place for a long time, in order to heal wounded soldiers who still have vital signs and give them time to return to the battlefield.

The North Union's white star flag was handed over to the Germans to guard, so the Stars and Stripes had to rest next to the Red Cross for the time being.

The field hospital in Bremen was packed with wounded soldiers who had recaptured Lüneburg, including men from the 101st Airborne Division and the 3rd Panzer Division, and of course, the 1st Red Division, which routinely dominated the list of the longest casualties.

Recalling the battles at the substation and the elementary school building, Tommy was injured in the thigh by a grenade, but thankfully the bleeding was stopped. Pat was also injured in the upper body by that girl named Ypel, but not fatally.

The two sat before a pristine white hospital bed, an empty blood transfusion bottle in their hands, a glucose drip bottle hanging above their heads, their faces drowsy and unresponsive. They had been keeping vigil there, unable to sleep.

"Oh my god... Doctor! Doctor!" Suddenly, the person on the bed coughed twice, his eyes widening like walnuts. Overjoyed, Pat quickly shoved Tommy, and the entire ward tent was filled with noise from his voice. "Tommy, quickly call the corporal in!"

"Thank God, Sergeant Jonathan, you're finally awake." The doctor looked at the soldier wrapped in bandages on the hospital bed, a look of relief on his face. "Can you see my face? Try taking a deep breath again?"

"Uh... I freaking want to know which idiot put the Purple Heart in my ear..." Jonathan coughed again, his voice almost back to how he used to shout on the battlefield.

"Calm down, Sergeant." While the people on either side of the hospital bed were overjoyed, Carl rushed in from outside. "You fainted on the spot after you took care of that little girl and carried Pat out. Your bloodstains and bruises could have soaked through your entire outfit. I was so scared that I had to stay by your side to see the doctor and give you a blood transfusion!"

"Take a good look, aren't all your buddies here?" Seeing Carl's equally irritable retort, Jonathan noticed that Pat's private's insignia on his sleeve had changed to private first class, a reward he'd earned for sniping the Britannian officer. "Brother, don't let us wait so long for you to wake up only to find it's just a final flicker of life, okay?"

Just as this small platoon of infantrymen was about to sit down and have a proper chat, the shadow of an army major appeared outside the tent. The sleeve of his shirt, emblazoned with the Screaming Eagle insignia, followed the doctor's directions and landed on Jonathan's bed.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Major Richard Winters of the 101st Airborne Division." After the greeting, he took a medal box from an officer following behind him. "Sergeant Jonathan Campbell, on the recommendation and witness of the paratroopers of the Airborne Division, the United States Army has entrusted me to award you the Bronze Star Medal for your heroic actions in the battle near Lüneburg."

"I hope this will keep you company during your recovery, Sergeant." Pat took the box from him and placed it by the bedside. The Major then brought over another document.

"There's another piece of news for you. Due to special battlefield needs, the U.S. Army high command has decided to reorganize the Ranger units. Given your experience serving in the 2nd Ranger Battalion, and your squad's excellent battlefield performance, once you have fully recovered, you can choose to lead your entire squad to participate in the Ranger reorganization selection. Of course, you can also choose to remain in the 1st Red Division."

“Thank you for telling me all this, Major.” At this point, Jonathan seemed to recall the Major’s name. “Your name is Winters, right? I’ve heard some veteran paratroopers talk about you before. The hero of the Howling Eagles, that’s you, isn’t it?”

The major smiled and shook his head. "The 101st Airborne Division is full of heroes, and your 1st Red Division is also full of heroes. I am just serving alongside these heroes."

Chapter 473 Chapter 372 All members suddenly attack! ! !

Ironically, while the First Red Division was recovering and regrouping, the Stars and Stripes were in grave danger over Nuremberg, 460 kilometers to the south.

Ten U.S. divisions were powerless against the Britannian Army Group, which outnumbered them several times over, and were ultimately forced to flee into their burrows like groundhogs seeing a bird of prey. More than 10 U.S. troops were trapped in several major areas of the city and suburbs, barely maintaining contact with the south.

This is very similar to the Ardennes Forest, but even more so, because the "Germans" we are facing this time are well-fed and well-equipped, both in personnel and vehicles. They are a group of enemies who have been tempered and evolved by the Soviet army over the past six months, using the blood of their comrades.

The American troops in the Ardennes Forest could pray for air support once the skies cleared, but today, the American troops in the forests and valleys that stretched to the south, east, and north of the city could only lean on their guns and gamble with their few remaining bullet casings on whether the Britannian aircraft overhead could be driven back by Allied air forces; otherwise, they would have no way to retreat.

Just as Hitler was eyeing the port of Antwerp, this lion and serpent flag from another world was also staring intently at everything behind Nuremberg.

If Nuremberg falls, Stuttgart and Munich will be their next targets. If these two cities also fall into enemy hands, two huge spikes will pierce the soft spot of Frankfurt, Czechoslovakia, and Austria from the south, and the land connection between the US-led North Union and the Soviet-led ASEAN will be severed north of the Alps.

The Americans didn't want to swallow a huge defeat right after winning Hamburg, and the Britannians wanted to win an unprecedented annihilation after a long period of frustration.

All of this destined the core of the upcoming battlefield to be the highway from Nuremberg to the south—the city's last lifeline and the final lock of the siege.

……

More than two hundred Britannian infantrymen, under the cover of fewer than ten KMFs and tanks, took advantage of the approaching night to capture a grassy hill. Kan Hu and Sindra, who had also been promoted to sergeant major, were among them.

This place was only a few fields away from the American positions, but when they captured it, only a few lightly armed soldiers died under their guns, and the rest all retreated—it seemed that the American forces in the encirclement did not have enough manpower and had to shrink some of their defensive positions.

The only real headache is that they've advanced so far from their starting point, and the KMF and tanks will have to retreat to a safe distance for resupply after nightfall. In other words, they'll have at least an hour to face potential enemy counterattacks with their bare hands.

After the bunkers were dug, several infantry officers assigned Kan Hu and another sergeant named Tony to inspect the bodies of the American soldiers they had killed. They casually checked their pockets and found no cigarettes, no playing cards, and not even a picture of a pretty white girl.

"Have you found out the unit number of the American troops on the other side?" Kan Hu, sensing something was wrong, stared intently at the sergeant.

“It’s not clear yet, sir, but judging from their shoulder insignia, it’s a face we’ve never seen before.” Tony grinned painfully, pointing to the bodies of the three American soldiers. “And compared to our previous impressions of American soldiers, they were too thin.”

"Skinny?" Before Kan Hu could ask any more questions, the sergeant received orders from his officer to sneak up in front of the American defense line to spy on their movements, and had to set off immediately.

From their first encounter with the US military in Berlin, it can be said that every veteran of the Expeditionary Force was intimately familiar with every detail of the uniforms of the soldiers in the 45th District, including the insignia on the US military uniforms.

The shoulder insignia on their arms are all the symbols of their respective divisions—the 1st Infantry Division has a bright red Arabic numeral 1, the 8th Infantry Division has a number 8 pierced by a golden arrow, and as for the tricolor triangle with numbers of the US armored divisions, even a dog could understand it.

Today, under Kan Hu's flashlight, these soldiers had a blue hexagon outlined in thick red line painted on their arms, with a pure white icon in the center depicting a hand holding a torch. They had never seen this armband before, but its meaning was very clear: before them stood a completely new U.S. military unit.

Kan Hu turned on the PDA's camera and quickly took a few pictures of the soldier's face—this was a major discovery. Not only him, but every Britannian soldier had not seen any Asian-biased faces on the battlefield of District 45.

It wasn't that the empire they served didn't have Asians; the key issue was their physique. They roughly measured them, and these dead men were all less than 1.6 meters tall? What was going on? Did the Americans have a habit of grouping all the malnourished, short Asians into a single division?

"Hey!" Just as everyone was stunned, Sergeant Tony, who had already gone quite a distance, shouted into the radio in shock, "I, I've found another American soldier dead here!"

"What?" Not only Kan Hu, but several captains and lieutenants were also stunned when they heard this.

“I’m not kidding. I’m in a ditch right now, and there are two people in U.S. military uniforms lying on the ground, all crooked and motionless.”

"Hiss..." Kan Hu's unease began to grow. "What do you think, Captain, if we all put on our gas masks first?"

"Sergeant, turn all the bodies over and check their skin and pupils. Please, don't let there be any poison gas leak from the American forces!"

With trepidation, Tony fastened his mask and bent down to pry the soldier's head open. Suddenly, he jumped back. When he touched the soldier's chin, he felt the warmth of a living person. Then, the soldier's closed eyes snapped open, and he pulled out a pistol, nearly hitting the sergeant in the face.

"It's fake! They're all alive!" Kan Hu and his group heard gunshots and desperate shouts. Then they clearly saw the men in black who were about to sneak up were already fighting with eight or nine men in American uniforms in the grass pit. Why could they see so clearly? Because a flare had already been launched into the air from the American position across the way.

"Damn it!" But before the captain could say more, another howitzer blast rang out in the distance, and the men on the position watched as a gleaming white phosphorus smoke grenade landed on their position. It brought not only burning, but also the sheer brightness that exposed them to the night, meaning that every American soldier on the other side had night vision goggles to see them.

[022 Friendly Reminder: The following text is best enjoyed with the Call of Duty 5 soundtrack "Ambushed Again," yes, the one you often hear when playing on the computer.]

The infantrymen frantically scavenged their assault rifles and rocket launchers amidst the white phosphorus debris, while machine gun fire from the opposing American forces rained down upon them. Tree bark was scraped into clumps, which flew towards them along with the colorful tracer rounds.

Naturally, it was time to answer the question of whether assault rifles could out-fire machine guns. Fortunately, they had new squad machine guns brought from Berlin. The Britannians, while locating the American machine gun positions by following the lights, prepared to destroy them from a distance with machine guns and rocket launchers.

As for Sergeant Tony, he managed to escape from the chaotic melee.

"When did they start making such strange noises?!" The shrill screams from those short Americans gave him a headache. Before he could even turn around and catch his breath, another "short guy" suddenly appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his shoulder, and bumped his head against his own. Then, he pulled the pin on the grenade on the sergeant's belt and kicked him into the ditch.

"NO! NO!" Before he could even take off his belt, he transformed into a blood-red splash that erupted more than five meters high in the ditch.

……

"How much longer until you arrive, Syndra!"

The Imperial troops had little time left to choose between continuing to hold out on the hill and waiting for armored support, or abandoning their positions and retreating.

"Damn it! Down below!" A corporal stood up as if he had noticed something, but was quickly shot and had his helmet and skull ripped off.

The two soldiers beside him clearly heard the gunshot coming very close. When they looked up, a Garand rifle with a gleaming bayonet was already piercing their throats—a squad of American soldiers had quietly crept up to their flank along the ditch and charged forward with their guns.

Completely disregarding the pain of being hit by bullets, these short American soldiers, braving the full-automatic fire of assault rifles, climbed into their bunkers and engaged in a chaotic melee, fighting in a way never before heard of—shouting and charging madly between the black-clad men's bunkers under the cover of submachine guns and BARs. When Garand, who was blind-firing at his waist, threw out his empty magazine, he raised his rifle, already with a bayonet attached, to his chest.

"Hurry up!" Kan Hu, with his assault rifle slung over his shoulder, was retreating when he suddenly heard the group of short Americans utter a Japanese word.

"A person from Area 11?!" Just as he was wondering, another short man who had his eye on him rushed in front of him, his bayonet already pointed at his neck.

The sergeant quickly pulled out the fork he was carrying at his waist and deflected Garland's bayonet. The two then grappled and fell to the ground.

"Temee, die!" Having interacted with people from Japan before, Kan Hu naturally knew a few unfriendly phrases in Japanese.

“Nande?” Clearly, the Asian man who was trying to strangle him hadn’t expected this either.

Finally, a female soldier carrying the squad's machine gun arrived and used bullets to knock away the short man riding on him. Kan Hu knelt on the ground and tried to breathe, but he coughed until he felt dizzy. These people were so much shorter than those in District 11, how come they were so fierce that no one could beat them?

"Your gun is here, Sergeant!" The female soldier tossed the sergeant's gun over while setting up her bipod and aiming ahead, showing no intention of deserting her post.

“It’s no use, girl… They’re not from District 11, they’re from District 45.” Kan Hu pulled her away sadly towards the retreat route. In the direction the two could see, countless short men, illuminated by tracer rounds, were charging towards their already nearly lost position, gripping rifles with bayonets.

……

The sergeant major did the right thing. If they were unwilling to surrender and retreat, they would only fall in the trenches with the remaining officers and soldiers and the captain who was unable to escape.

The hiragana characters that these American soldiers kept uttering echoed in their ears, and for a moment, the people lying on the ground couldn't even believe that they had died in such a desperate and hysterical hand-to-hand fight with the so-called Area 11 people—in theory, it was normal for Area 11 people to be covered in explosives or drive car bombs into the KMF crowd, or to raise their hands and surrender under their guns.

Not only could his short stature allow him to pick up guns and bayonets or tackle and pounce on men in black, killing one after another on the ground, but what was even more perplexing was that, seemingly just because he was "born in District 45," Hiragana's existence, which was like that of a rat crossing the street, transformed him into a wild beast that could devour people at will.

At the same time, they were assimilated into a fanatical but well-coordinated war machine. When the remaining black-clad soldiers tried to fight their way out from the hail of bullets, they looked closely and saw that an Asian youth, who should have been frowning all day long in the face of Britannian authoritarianism, was now carrying a flamethrower and blocking their escape route with the scorching nozzle.

As for the officers and soldiers who escaped back with Kan Hu to report the news, they thought that once the Sindra arrived with support in an infantry fighting vehicle, the problem would be solved. Who would have thought that these Japanese-speaking Americans would spend the entire night with them on the mountain.

They were not afraid of guns or cannons, and were even as unafraid of armored vehicles as the Soviets. Whenever the infantry were about to rush into the trenches to clear them, these Americans would defiantly fix their bayonets and launch a counter-charge. Inside and outside the position, the number of corpses covered in gunshot wounds was less than half of those killed by sharp weapons.

They weren't even afraid of fire. When the Britannians also crept up carrying flamethrowers, a fire dragon with a faint purple glow easily swept across the trenches.

They were truly made of flesh and blood, yet they seemed to feel no pain. When people from District 11 lay in piles of corpses pretending to be dead, their mouths would be torn open by the flames that covered them. But the first thing the "people from District 11 in District 45" did not think of was extinguishing the flames on their bodies. Instead, they would jump out of the trenches and burn to death together with the Britannians.

"The dog tags you gave me from the US military have made it very clear, Sergeant Kan Hu!" After fighting all night without any progress, the hot-blooded Syndra was naturally on the verge of losing her mind.

“Tanaka, that’s the name of a gatekeeper from Area 11!” She grabbed a dog tag that Kan Hu had picked up earlier, belonging to an American dwarf. “I don’t care who almost strangled you before, and I don’t care how many unknown secrets of the ‘Japanese’ in Area 45 have been revealed by high-ranking officials in Berlin. It’s already dawn, and if we don’t fight back, the main force of the American forces breaking out will come to deal with us!”

Just as the two were arguing, they saw a large group of fully armed American soldiers rushing towards them from the south—again, new faces: steel helmets tightly wrapped in camouflage cloth, and tracked contraptions moving behind M4 Sherman tanks, resembling small boats with turrets on top.

Chapter 373, Section 474: Saving the Private

On May 29, 1945, when Colonel Arthur Mason led the 1st Marine Regiment into the ruins of Shuri Castle, a Japanese fortress built in the heart of the southern mountains of Okinawa, everyone believed that the war was over.

In reality, the U.S. Army and Navy fought the Rising Sun Flag for a full month, only ending this "steel typhoon in the Pacific" with the unexpected death of a lieutenant general as an interlude. As for the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay, it won't be until September.

More than a year later, Colonel Mason is still the commander of the 1st Marine Regiment. However, after crossing the Pacific Ocean to the port of Venice, the entire 1st Marine Division has left behind the optimism of a year ago on the troop transport ship.

Everyone knew what they were facing—they couldn't reap the rewards of victory like the American troops who entered Berlin after Germany's surrender; instead, they would be in a desperate situation like the Marines on Wake Island.

……

"Hey!" a short, unhelmeted Asian man called out to Colonel Mason as he walked around the mountain.

If the colonel hadn't shouted at him to stop him, and if he had been holding an M1 Garand instead of a Thompson, the Marines around him who instinctively raised their guns to aim would probably have mistaken him for a Japanese soldier with a Type 99 rifle and opened fire on him.

"442nd Infantry Regiment, 100th Infantry Battalion, Corporal Yamazaki is here to meet you, sir!" The short man's self-introduction had barely finished when several artillery shells began exploding on the mountain he had come from. "So, is that all of you?"

“Accept reality, young man.” Mason sighed. “We just received word that the French tanks won’t arrive for another two days. Until then, only a portion of our 1st Marine Division’s forces can be assigned to you.”

"First Marine Division?" The corporal repeated the number across from him with a puzzled look, emphasizing "Marine." Then he saw the massive M1917 water-cooled heavy machine gun among the Marines. "Excuse me, Colonel, can't we even carry away one of our cannons?"

“Enough, boy,” the colonel interrupted him. “I’ve never spoken to any Japanese Americans, nor have I ever seen the Japanese with their seemingly endless armored forces in the Pacific. But the American troops trapped in Nuremberg are about to evacuate, right along this road behind us. Whether we hold this place or die here, it’s our duty, understand?!”

“Alright…” The corporal paused. “To put it simply, Colonel, after the enemy vanguard we drove off retreated, they brought their main force here. Since then, there’s been a detachment of artillery covering our regiment’s positions from the other side of the river, and they’re incredibly accurate. Our 105mm howitzers can’t catch them, so what’s your plan?”

"You should have said that earlier." Mason nodded and told the corporal to go back, but the Marines behind him started grumbling.

"Are you kidding me? Sharing a trench with the Japanese?"

"You said 'No Japanese' before, but now you're telling us 'Fight with Japanese'?"

"You'd better remember our habits in Okinawa, Colonel? We can sleep all day listening to the artillery rumble, but if we hear the Japanese utter those words from their mother's womb, we'll jump out of our sleep immediately."

"Shut the hell up!" Colonel Mason roared, placing his right hand on the division insignia on his left arm and viciously scratching the word "Guadalcanal" embroidered on it with his fingernails along the Arabic numeral 1.

"What have you all learned from Guadalcanal to today? Is it to grind human-skinned scum to dust, or to fire on your comrades who are equally deserving of the Purple Heart? Think about it carefully, and don't make me lose face for you!"

……

The road from Nuremberg to the south is built through woodlands and hills interspersed with streams; in other words, there is basically no place where ordinary vehicles can easily pass.

This was an excellent stage for infantry, and for this reason, the 1st Marine Division managed to tear a gap in the hills by manpower. By the time the Britannians realized what was happening, they had already set up heavy machine guns on several hills and were aiming at the men in black who lacked machine gun cover.

Of course, there are also recoilless rifles that can use the same tripod as the M1917 machine gun—these were a batch of equipment urgently issued before arriving at the front lines, and today they are being used to compete with the KMFs who have climbed mountains on steel cables.

Faced with the resistance of the 1st Marine Division and the 442nd Infantry Regiment, the Britannians, unable to break through the stalemate for the time being, seemed to have no choice but to bombard the enemy's inevitable route if the air force could spare some time to launch an air raid.

As for Kan Hu and Sindra, since encountering the Japanese soldiers, their units had suffered heavy losses, so they remained in the rear as reserves, resting and awaiting orders. Soon, their superiors sent them an urgent order: the American forces appeared to be crossing the river to pursue their second-line artillery.

"How many Portman tanks did we drop on the people of District 45?" Surprised, they rushed to the place where the artillerymen had died, only to find several boat-shaped tanks unexpectedly waiting for them—fresh seaweed still hanging on their tracks.

Some tanks had turrets with 37mm guns similar to those on the Stuart, while others had open turrets housing shorter and thicker howitzers—though with a slower rate of fire, they were more destructive and could seemingly damage the front of assault guns with armor-piercing rounds.

While the appearance of this new thing was somewhat unexpected for Syndra, of course, it was not sturdy, and the infantry fighting vehicle's autocannon was easier to deal with than the Stuart.