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The 88mm tank gun accurately followed Carius's gaze and aimed at each Britannian, whether they were still hurrying forward or turning around unexpectedly.
One KMF after another collapsed in the blast wave of high-explosive shells, and one assault gun and infantry fighting vehicle after another had their armor pierced by shells—the smoke from the propellant spilled from the open hatch on Carius's chest, like a boiling cauldron of hellish oil igniting the battlefield.
In almost a minute, Sally watched helplessly as her comrades were targeted one by one by the Jaguar. Infantrymen were felled by stray bullets and shrapnel, KMFs withered along with the grass, their bodies studded with sparks and flames, and as for the assault guns, their turrets had been torn off their mounts by the blast waves, leaving behind countless decapitated wrecks on the ground.
"What kind of monster is this?!" Sally was completely driven out of her composure by the precise tank fire. By the time she led her men into the city center square, the area behind her had long since become a graveyard of steel and fire.
"Don't be afraid! There aren't many American soldiers left! Sweep up all the houses before that damned jaguar gets here! It can't possibly take on all the people inside!"
The whispers of the 88mm guns still echoed from the other side of the courthouse. The Imperial infantrymen, dressed in black, went berserk and blasted open every door locked by the American troops—it was less a surge of patriotic fervor and more an instinct for survival after hearing a tsunami warning.
However, as everyone focused intently on the direction of the 88mm gun and the American helmets inside the surrounding buildings, the most unexpected thing happened.
"Oh no... American troops! American Triceratops!" As Sally looked southwest towards the city exit from the city center square, two Pershing tanks, surrounded by soldiers on both sides of the road, aimed their 90mm cannons at her.
……
"Lieutenant Otto Carius's crew is calling the U.S. 4th Tank Battalion to thank you for your support in forcing the enemy out of the city."
"Carius? Which unit do you belong to, Lieutenant?"
"I do not belong to any officially designated unit, sir. I am just leading four German tank crewmen, who have put on their uniforms again, to conduct break-in tests on our new tanks in the southern village of Milhaus. We happened to be in the city refueling when the enemy approached and joined the defense."
"Alright, Lieutenant. Also, our tanks were just attacked by direct fire from the enemy in the northeastern suburbs of the city, so firstly, please ask your crew not to proceed in that direction. Secondly, is there anything we can do to help you?"
"We used up a lot of resources in the recent battle inside the city: 39 armor-piercing rounds and 18 high-explosive rounds, plus a considerable amount of gasoline. Could you provide us with some?"
"Artillery caliber, Lieutenant?"
"88mm, thank you." The communications officer smiled and helped Carius hang up the call. The driver also turned off the engine, which was running low on fuel, ending the joke. "Let's wait for them to come to us. I'm afraid driving straight past Tiger's Shadow like this will scare them."
Carius took off his headphones and looked thoughtfully at the still-smoke-filled streets around him.
The air was thick with the stench of human blood and burning remains, and the sky above was shrouded in black mist, obscuring every cloud and the silhouette of passing warplanes—Neymarkt had entered twilight ahead of Europe.
"Don't just hold it in your mouth, I'll light it for you." He looked down at the gunner in front of his knees again, who was taking a cigarette from the driver.
"I was sitting in a tank after the Falaise Siege, Lieutenant." The gunner tilted his head back and laughed, looking silly. "After fighting the Americans for so long, today I finally understand what they mean when they say they treat tanks like lovers and concubines."
Carius smiled, bent down, and gently patted the gunner's tired shoulder twice. "Sergeant, welcome to the Tiger tank family from today onwards."
Chapter 375, Section 476: The Flames of War
"The troops that withdrew from Neumarkt have returned, General Wood. This is a compilation of information and footage from the surviving officers and soldiers."
As soon as the general went out and met the officer who brought the message, he seemed to smell the fear that the officers and soldiers were being chased by the so-called "jaguar".
"Is this what a Jaguar looks like? I seem to remember hearing news of new tanks being seen from the Elbe River a few days ago?" Wood pondered. "They were also boxy, similar to this Jaguar, just with an extra ring of armor plates, but that battle wasn't representative."
“That’s right, General. I have reason to believe that we missed an opportunity to collect combat data on the tanks in District 45 due to our excessive caution, which resulted in today’s bloodshed.” The officer shrugged—however, he seemed to have confused the Tiger tank with the Panzer IV.
“As someone who’s been through it all, kid, even if I had a better grasp of the past, I don’t think today’s battle will be any better.” The general patted the officer on the shoulder. “The same aircraft won’t be any different depending on whether it’s in the hands of an ordinary Soviet pilot or a Silver Dove, but only the latter left a scar on the Knights of the Round Table. The same goes for tanks, and even more so for the KMF.”
"So, does Your Excellency think the codename 'Jaguar' should be given to the newly discovered Area 45 tank, or to the elite Area 45 tank crews identified through the deaths of a hundred or so men?"
The two soldiers looked at each other and smiled bitterly, lamenting that their lives, ever since they boarded District 45, seemed to be filled with both jokes and hardships.
Fortunately, he was interrupted by another communications soldier, who said, "Sir, Bruno's field experimental vehicle unit has sent you a report."
"Ah." General Wood explained to the officer while picking up his glasses, "Many new weapons testing teams, with Her Highness Elizabeth's support, have formed field testing convoys and are collecting data with the troops on the front lines. I don't think anyone has told you yet?"
“I seem to recall hearing such orders before.” The officer nodded thoughtfully. “Should I call General Morrison?”
"Ah, the Major General has taken a plane to another direction on the Nuremberg front. Let's get back to business." Wood waved his hand, looking at the joint report sent back by Mr. Bruno and the convoy's combat commander.
"...About 15 minutes before the report, during the withdrawal of all our troops from the city, a Triceratops that had chased us out of the city was destroyed by us, which is why the US forces did not continue the pursuit."
The other questions Bruno had were about their artillery carrier. They had tried fitting the cannon, which could penetrate the Pershing's frontal armor, onto an extended chassis of an assault gun—changing it from three large wheels on one side to four wheels plus a small wheel to help with traversing inclines.
The overall appearance of the transport vehicle is similar to that of the Soviet SU-100, and only one has been completed so far. Although it is perfectly capable of target acquisition and aiming, and is not demanding in terms of terrain, its maneuverability is relatively poor, and the huge recoil when firing also has a slight impact on the interior of the vehicle and the suspension—it seems that replacing it with a more robust chassis is urgently needed.
"I'm so excited, General! I feel like we're getting closer and closer to leaving those indestructible armored beasts behind and blasting the heads off every single one of the District 45 tanks that futilely fire at us!" The officer chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "It's a real shame that General Morrison left so early, missing this chance to share in our joy."
"The US military launched a surprise attack southwest of Nuremberg, causing trouble for our flanking forces. General Morrison went with Duke Sassler to assess the US military's next move..."
Just then, the communications soldier inside rushed out of the house in a great hurry.
"It's terrible, Your Excellency! General Morrison's plane has been attacked!"
……
The story goes back to almost 20 minutes earlier, shortly after Morrison's plane took off. In a small town more than 60 kilometers west of Nuremberg, under the fluttering Britannian Lion flag, a captain brought two water bottles to a major.
"Try it, my friend, it's fresh from the barrel." Unscrew the cap, and you'll hear the aroma of wheat brewing in the cellar. "I never imagined that Germany in the 45th region, like the EU, is a beer-producing country, and even the south is famous for its wheat beer."
"Oh, that's really good, cheers!"
The major and captain leaned against their calm desks, gazing at the hurried crowds on the distant highway, downing their beer jugs in one gulp. On both sides of the highway and in the more distant fields, there were trucks, jeeps, and tanks painted with white stars, some already burned to ashes, others abandoned. And the American soldiers who had abandoned them were huddled in groups among the dark Imperial troops, slowly making their way north—closer to Berlin, where a huge prisoner-of-war camp awaited them.
"What a disappointment. My camera broke the day before yesterday and I took it to get it repaired. Otherwise, I should have recorded this scene properly." The major, with beer in his mouth, wiped the foam from his chin and couldn't help but smile. "First, I'll find an opportunity to record it, and second, I'll switch the beer to rum. That way, when I go back to Berlin to visit Lieutenant Colonel Grogen, I can have a better heart-to-heart talk with him."
"Grogan? Who's Grogan?"
“Eddie Hill Grogan, he was my superior when he served under General Marendor. He also had a sister who was in the army, I think she was in the Knights of Favonius.” The major was lost in thought about the past. “Serving under such an excellent soldier was the only honor of my life, but not being able to let him see everything that has happened in the expeditionary force today is the greatest regret of my life…”
"So, he's already dead?"
"Together with countless people who shed their blood for what we have today, yes." The major shrugged helplessly, then suddenly burst into laughter. "Without experiencing life and death, without facing imminent danger, one cannot truly appreciate how fortunate it is to survive a bloody battle. I believe that everyone who stands with us under Her Highness Elizabeth's banner is like that, yes, everyone who is armed with their courage and the right battlefield experience."
Just then, the major received a phone call from Duke Sasler.
“Nothing is amiss, Your Grace,” he replied. “I know the American forces that launched the counterattack are their 2nd Armored Division, and I’ve heard that the division commander is a general named Patton who has made outrageous remarks about Her Highness Elizabeth. But to be honest, his tanks are all stuck there forty or fifty kilometers away from me, blocked by other units. I can’t even hear them being destroyed.”
“I can tell, Major. Of course I understand that the US military can only disrupt our plan to extend a few dozen kilometers into their retreat route, but it can’t stop us from wiping out the soldiers still inside Nuremberg along the outskirts of the city.”
“There’s only one thing, sir,” the major said, glancing at the map. “The KMFs that have been battling American fighters in the air for a long time seem to be in trouble. I don’t know what the air force commanders in the rear are saying, but according to the pilots who made emergency landings around my area, they seem to have encountered a new ‘Phoenix’.”
"You mean Phoenix? Jet?" The Duke was stunned and didn't know what to say—ever since the Gloucester meteor nearly killed Elizabeth, and the vampires appeared over the Baltic Sea, the people of District 45 had been using their increasing 'speed advantage' in the sky to tip the scales of the increasingly unstable aerial battlefield.
"Wait a moment, Your Grace, I have urgent business to attend to!" The major abruptly hung up the communication, and then the communications officer relayed an urgent distress call to him.
"Mayday! Mayday!" This was the message from an armed transport plane. "We have encountered American jets. General Morrison is on our plane! Altitude 3600, heading 290. All units receiving this message, please come to our aid immediately!"
The major rushed out of the door and saw a heavily armed transport plane with its engine burning up as it wobbled down from the sky.
"Sir, watch out!" Before anyone could react, a destroyed KMF aircraft suddenly shattered into pieces and crashed in front of them, nearly hitting the major.
"Wait a minute? Is that a Vincent?" Just as everyone was staring in disbelief at the wreckage of the seventh-generation fighter and had a bad feeling, a clean-cut jet flew overhead.
Unlike the Meteor's two engines embedded in its wings, and unlike the Vampire's bizarre shape, it even looks at first glance like the P-51 Mustang except without the propeller—the two air intakes are hidden on both sides of the fuselage at the wing roots. What people on the ground see is the white star insignia and the scorching heat of the tail engine nozzles, as well as its rapidly ascending and departing figure.
……
"General Morrison is in danger? Is he still alive? What about the rescue forces?!"
The news was so significant that it caused a huge uproar as soon as it reached Berlin.
Upon hearing that it was British and American jets that were responsible, Elizabeth, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, immediately abandoned her meeting with her brother and several senior officers and personally ordered the transfer of a fully equipped knightly order that was preparing to assist in the invasion of Poland near Berlin. The worst-equipped members were all from Vincent Ward.
“Every jet from Area 45 must be nipped in the bud!”
Before long, while she was pacing back and forth in the Reichstag building, worrying about the sky over Nuremberg, Field Marshal Manslitt arrived first. He was Schneizel's loyal dog, who had caused her no shortage of trouble since arriving in Berlin.
"How could you do this, Your Highness?" He initially seemed aggrieved. "Everything has been decided. The Jade Knights are a necessary base for my future invasion of Poland. Isn't it a waste to torment them like this?"
"The battlefield is ever-changing, Marshal. No one can predict what will happen tomorrow, just as my brother Clovis never expected the appearance of ZERO."
“Please do not insult His Highness Clovis, and you are the leader of the expeditionary force!” Manslit began to adopt a more respectful tone. “You are also the guide for countless new soldiers arriving in District 45. Your actions will have a negative impact on them!”
"Marshal, have you ever tasted what it's like to be so close to death?" Kelly was already getting angry on behalf of her sister.
“No, but going back on one's word and treating one's promises as worthless paper is more disgusting than wanton slaughter.” The marshal finally revealed a contemptuous expression. “You said you would keep the Jade Knights in reserve for the Polish operation, but suddenly you changed your mind? Just like when you asked Prince Schneizel about requesting reinforcements, do you remember? Are you aware that Pendraken has already begun to have the proverb of ‘Elizabethan promises’?”
"Damn it, is the capital city supporting a bunch of gangsters like you?" Kelly cursed, then stopped herself—after thinking about it, she realized that she and her sister were in the wrong on this issue.
"You may have misunderstood the good intentions of the princesses and princes, Marshal," Karonville said, trying to smooth things over. "Do you remember why we insisted that you not attack Poland or Czechoslovakia before we captured Nuremberg? Or rather, what are your plans for attacking those two countries?"
"Huh? A colonel thinks he can test me just because he's been in District 45 for a while?" Manslit chuckled lightly, then waved his hand, revealing his plan on the map. "Don't think of me like I'm anything special. I know how the people in District 45 use their troops, so I'll just give you my final plan: what to do if Marshal Sophia isn't willing to give me enough skyship support."
"The Oder River, where Poland and Czechoslovakia meet, is not as wide as the middle section, which is often over 120 meters. Here, the river is usually only 30 or 40 meters wide or even narrower. I will concentrate all my forces here to confront the Soviet army and its allies face to face and defeat them."
“You’re absolutely right, Your Excellency. All the bridges over the Oder River are destroyed and beyond repair, and the navy may not be able to help much in capturing Szczecin.” Karonville nodded. “And you’ve also taken into full account whether the mountainous terrain is suitable for an attack. However, you’ve still put all your eggs in one basket.”
"Colonel, do you think you can persuade Marshal Sophia to simply crash a Skyship onto the Oder River and violently erect an expensive but unreliable bridge?" The Marshal smiled disdainfully. "We only have one basket."
“There are other baskets, Marshal, but they’re not on the Oder.” Karl-Heinz pointed to the map, connecting Nuremberg, Munich, and Linz, a valley that penetrates into Austria and circles around to the south of central Czechoslovakia.
"Just as you said, you need to be prepared for the possibility that the Sky Fleet will be unable to provide support in the future. The reason why Your Highness is so eager to achieve a major victory in the Nuremberg direction is to open up this second passage to the East in the future, so that it can form a pincer movement with your invasion of Poland. At the same time, we can also give the American army a good beating. It is a win-win situation. Why are you so stubborn?"
"Oh, or is it that you have no confidence in your troops at all, and you're so eager for us to give you all the troops to gamble on Poland in order to cover up your insecurity? Or do you not trust the intuition and thinking of the veterans of the expeditionary force?"
Seeing this, Kelly swaggered up, put his hands on his hips, slapped the marshal's shoulder with one hand, and raised his thumb to the marshal's nose with the other.
"Go ahead, sir. Tell your men exactly what I just told you, without embellishment. Also, tell Pandreken that we are very happy to accept criticism, as long as someone else can do better than us, hehe!"
……
However, less than half a minute after Manslitt left, one of the officers who had come in with him earlier ran back.
“I am Colonel Genoa Jones, a subordinate of the Marshal.” The officer nodded, hunching his shoulders, and reached for his hat on the table. “I forgot my things.”
However, the sharp-eyed Elizabeth noticed that the colonel seemed to be hiding something on his face.
“Well, Your Highness,” he finally confessed, “I understand that you do have some dissatisfaction with Lord Manslit, but you are hampered by pressure from the capital and have no way to deal with it. So, I would like to offer you a suggestion.”
"Because of the argument between you and Marshal Sophia over the Sky Fleet, Lord Manslit has come to the conclusion that Marshal Sophia is actually on his side. So his current tactic is to extract some valuable viewpoints from Marshal Sophia in order to refute you."
"Therefore, if the Marshal's actions are indeed going too far and affecting your overall deployment, I suggest that you communicate with the naval fleet and the land commanders who have landed in Northern Europe, and try to deliberately give Marshal Sofia the impression that the situation in Northern Europe is critical and that more troops and energy need to be deployed to deal with it. In the long run, even if Marshal Sofia still maintains her upright image of not taking sides, she will definitely choose to let things go unchecked on the Eastern Front."
"That's all I have to say. I hope it helps." The colonel bowed respectfully and ran out.
“Oh God… do I have to do this…” Elizabeth stared at the door, lost in thought—she thought the plan to deceive everyone was just a temporary expedient for Schneizel, but she never expected that she would have to lie with the generals now.
“Well then, Your Highness.” Caronville closed the folder. “Let’s not talk about the group’s attempt to fool Marshal Sophia for now. You should prepare a secret location for your generals to ‘meet’ in the future.”
"What?!" Elizabeth and Kelly were furious. "We siblings are going to have to hide every day for the sake of a marshal?!"
"At least you don't want the next military conference to be another messed up by Marshal Manslitt, do you?" Caronville spread his arms with a wry smile. "Your Highness, how can the expeditionary force have a peaceful day when surrounded by such worms all day long?!"
Chapter 376 Departure and Return (Section 477)
[022 Warm Reminder: This chapter is best enjoyed in conjunction with the Transformers movie soundtrack "Arrival to Earth"]
Prior to this, the Stars and Stripes had already been moved south from the square in front of the Church of Our Lady in Nuremberg—just one of many factors weighing on the defeat in the battle that had been removed.
An M26 Pershing lay crookedly beside the fountain in the northwest corner of the square, its broken tracks dangling from its gun barrel, a tattered cloth hanging from its lower muzzle. Now, this is the only evidence that American troops were once stationed in the city.
Even the civilians living here were driven to the southern city and concentrated there. The only sounds on the streets were the Britannian soldiers and the low hum of electric engines. Laughter and cheers filled the air, as if a long-cherished wish had finally been fulfilled.
Like dragging corpses, General Motors trucks and jeeps were cleared from the city streets to avoid blocking traffic. Soldiers put aside their guns and picked up brooms and carts to move away the piles of supply boxes and oil drums. Everyone was busy and sweating profusely, just to bring peace to the chaotic roads in the north of the city as soon as possible.
A gleaming KMF squad was slowly making its way down the road, surrounded by Britannians queuing to enter the city, some on infantry fighting vehicles, others crouching on assault guns, crowding one side of the road.
On the other side of the road, every now and then a hundred or so American soldiers, having discarded their guns and helmets, would walk past them. Gone was the sharpness and killing intent of an eagle; instead, they were like a herd of weary deer, pacing forward as if their souls had left their bodies, heading towards their expected destination.
Today is July 4, 1946, the 170th Independence Day of the United States. Three days later, in a prisoner-of-war camp in Leipzig, they heard news of the bombing of Stockholm.
……
Thus ended a disastrous day—at the US military headquarters in Frankfurt, Eisenhower didn't even feel like continuing his habit of drinking English afternoon tea at four o'clock, becoming a glass of cooled boiled water, overwhelmed by the smell of nicotine and caffeine filling the room.
“Smoke less, Ike.” He had been locking himself in his room for too long and was so depressed that Bradley’s push of the door startled him. “Even if a cigarette butt could buy a soldier, you’d be smoking until next year’s worth of the 90th Infantry Division’s tens of thousands of men.”
Eisenhower sighed, stubbed out his cigarette, and sat down on the sofa with Bradley.
"Of course, it's not just this one infantry division. The entire 7th Panzer Division has seven battalions, and two regiments from the 94th Infantry Division... Damn it, we lost in Magdeburg, barely managed to turn the tide in Hamburg, and thought this would be a turning point for Europe, but now Nuremberg is the next one?"
“I dare say that was the stupidest thing I ever said,” Ike shook his head in annoyance. “I said, ‘I know the Battle of Berlin will cost the Allies at least 10 lives, so I’m handing the city over to the Soviets’… It was sour grapes.”
Seeing this, Bradley silently tossed an envelope from his bag and placed it in front of Ike—it was addressed to "Washington."
"Say something to them."
“Three million men are far from enough. More soldiers, more equipment, more supplies… That’s it!” Eisenhower waved his arm and lit another cigarette. “If this continues, the Americans will lose all face. Can you imagine the Germans yelling at us, ‘You can’t drive tanks well, let us do it, we’ll give them back to you after we’re done’? What a scene that would be!”
"Is that all?" Bradley's lips curled up, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Ha.” Ike shrugged. “If it weren’t for these damn Britannians, no one in Europe west of the Elbe would want to miss out on such a huge piece of the pie, from the House of Representatives to the Senate to the Pentagon, right?”
“I must say, Ike,” Bradley laughed, “that remark was so sharp that every senator looked grim, but they certainly couldn’t hide their secret delight.”