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Page 7
"Hiss..." Jonathan frowned, desperately trying to recall the words in his mind.
“I remember the brothers in the air talking to me about seeing a German plane without a propeller… but those things jump off the runway, so what’s with this helicopter that takes off and lands like this?”
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Never mind!" The sergeant squatted down and patted Pat on the shoulder. "Let's go! Let's go down and report this first!"
……
……
"Ghost Owl calling command center, we are about to arrive at area L7 and are preparing to begin search operations. Over."
"..."
"Ghost Owl calling command center, please respond."
"..."
"The owl is calling the Eurasian Hobby. Communication check. Please respond if you hear me."
"Falcon received, communication normal, over."
"OK..." The radio stopped abruptly, and two birds, adorned with lights, hovered in mid-air like dragonflies.
"Hello? Hommel?" In the cockpit of the "Ghost Owl," the pilot sitting in the front row, feeling unbearably hot, took off his helmet and called out to his comrades in the "Eagle Falcon" into the microphone.
"Ah..." A yawn came from the other end of the radio. "Walker, do you want to sleep too?"
The tense atmosphere was instantly ruined by the conversation between the two lazy men.
"Hey, it's normal to want to sleep..." the young man sitting in front of Hommel interjected casually. "We just finished a day's shift, and then the boss suddenly ordered us to be dragged to this place that's even uglier than a slum. So, in this huge Tokyo Concession, are we the only ones who can fly?"
"Tell me, how come we, a few guys responsible for armed patrols in District 11, are being rushed to the front lines of the expeditionary force, to such a VIP place, to guard the knights' homes?"
"Well," Walker's partner behind him chimed in softly, "we got a few medals for suppressing the rebellion, you know."
"Tch." Walker scoffed. "Give that stuff to the knights, they'd probably just use it as coins."
"That may be true, but when it comes to dealing with stragglers, aren't we, who fly in the sky, often better at it than those short-legged guys on the ground?"
“Indeed,” Hommel replied thoughtfully. “What can those thugs hiding in the slums possibly offer? Besides, when we were reporting just now, we heard that the enemies in this world don’t seem to have mechs…”
"Hey!" Walker exclaimed like a child seeing a toy, "No way! Did we come here to 'suppress' again?"
"Hahaha! You can interpret it that way? Hahahaha! It's our old profession!"
The other three were like firewood ignited by a joyful match; instantly, sharp laughter burst forth like wildfire, their unrestrained vocal cords resonating in the radio like a piece of silk fluttering in the air between the two helicopters.
Perhaps because they had been oppressed by the mechs for too long, their laughter was like waves playing in a storm, filled with an air of unbridled joy... The last time they laughed like this was a very, very long time ago...
……
di——
"Command center calling! Owl, Eurasian Falcon, respond if you hear me!"
"Ghost, Ghost Owl received!" Walker was somewhat taken aback by the sudden call.
"Locke Squadron is about to arrive at Area L7 from your 3 o'clock position. You will immediately begin the next street search operation to ensure the safety of ground troops!"
"Received, in progress, completed!"
……
"Let's go, guys!" Walker yelled into the radio. "Don't leave any scraps for those bighorses! Hah! Move it!"
……
“Sergeant, what exactly is that thing…” A soldier huddled behind a cabinet in the building, looking back at Jonathan lying on the ground.
A rifle swayed in his trembling hands, rattling like a box of coffee beans.
"Don't be afraid, just think of it as playing hide-and-seek with others. If you show your face, you're out..."
The sergeant took off his helmet and began to move towards the corner of the wall under the window, slightly sticking his forehead out of the windowsill.
In the blink of an eye, he pulled himself back to the ground, suppressing his curiosity and not daring to look any longer—even though it was something he had never seen before.
These two things, which looked like airplanes but weren't quite like airplanes, accompanied by the shrill sound of jet engines, moved the searchlights under their noses, like two demonic eyes, surveying the messy streets and broken buildings below with a chilling gaze.
……
"Oh my god, I really want to go down and take a walk..." Walker shook his head, staring at the street under the searchlights. "This is much worse than the refugee camps back home."
"Ha, there aren't many houses that can even be described as intact. Just how terrible was the battle that took place here?"
"Only an earthquake, typhoon, or tsunami could wreak havoc on a city like this. Are all the people here beasts? Tsk tsk..."
"Stop complaining, everyone. Watch out, I don't want to miss any key figures."
"Yes, yes, Ghost Owl received!" Walker became increasingly nonchalant. "Is it done yet? My joystick is about to rust."
"Alright, looks like there are only some abandoned weapons and half-baked bunkers... Egret calling command center, L7 area is safe, en route to the next target area!"
……
"Sergeant, have they left...?"
Behind the windowsill, under the cover of darkness, Jonathan peered around cautiously with his eyes wide open.
"Get up, we still have..."
As he was talking, he noticed a small, grayish-white dot in the house across the street, blinking in a steady rhythm.
“Those guys on the other side sent a message, Sir!” Pat moved closer to Jonathan again.
The sergeant didn't pay much attention to him. He took out his flashlight, wrapped it in a piece of cloth he'd grabbed from somewhere, and pointed it at the window, tapping the flashlight switch as if sending a telegram.
Soon, a new drumbeat began to flash on the other side...
This time, Jonathan's expression instantly turned serious!
"Everyone, get your weapons ready!" the sergeant whispered to the soldiers behind him. "We have guests!"
The Thompson submachine gun in his hand eagerly clicked as it was cocked.
"More than 70 enemies on the main road." His eyes remained fixed on the window, silently counting the flashing rhythm in his mind.
"Two self-propelled artillery pieces, one armored vehicle." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew, thank God, no more of those puppets..."
"So, Sergeant!" Pat called out with a hint of relief, "What are we going to do now?"
"Just like we used to fight the Germans!" The sergeant suddenly turned his head downstairs. "Tommy! Carl! Get the machine guns ready! Remind the anti-tank team to prepare!"
The building, which had been eerily quiet just moments before, was now filled with the rustling of rats scurrying about, and it seemed to have transformed into a church exiting its chamber. The footsteps of soldiers, the scraping of bullets, and the cocking of guns sounded like a concert by a swarm of insects inside the building; the drumbeat of footsteps continued on one side, while the accordion of the bolts played a rather chaotic string of notes on the other.
Unlike the soldiers who were in a flustered state—many of whom were suddenly woken from their sleep leaning against the wall—the sergeant had been quietly lying on the window for quite some time. The footsteps and the bolt of his rifle seemed to have no effect on his calm demeanor; his binoculars, like a funnel, focused all his attention on the distant street.
Gradually, at the other end of the street, a ray of light pierced through the lens of the binoculars and reflected in the sergeant's pupils—this was not the warm sunlight of the rising sun, but a cold, sharp lamplight. The uninvited guests were arrogantly announcing their arrival to everyone!
……
Across the street, a group of soldiers in black surrounded a slowly moving armored vehicle, rifles in hand, tactical flashlights scanning every window. In such a nearly completely unfamiliar city, shrouded in the merciless darkness, no one felt as carefree as if they were strolling through the Tokyo Concession.
The night was eerily quiet, and the dilapidated streets were even more unsettling. If it weren't for the engine noise and various lights, people might have chosen to grope their way forward through the ruins, having long since lost the courage to take a step forward on the streets.
At the very front of the column, on an assault gun with a headlight, an officer leaned half his body out of the hatch on the roof.
He methodically inspected every spot, noting broken walls and windows where enemies might be climbing out, and occasionally peering into the shadows with his night vision goggles.
"All squads, be alert! Watch out for any possible enemy locations. If you spot any unidentified individuals, kill them without mercy!"
……
……
"Seriously, why didn't the higher-ups even assign us a Sunderland..." A soldier's complaint came from below the officer inside the assault gun.
"Too much complaining, kid." The officer sat down and patted the soldier on the shoulder. "With the birds in the sky around, we don't need to be so afraid."
"But... Lieutenant Lockett, what if we're surrounded?" The soldier's face grew increasingly anxious. "The enemy is everywhere. Can we outlast them?"
“We are the vanguard! We are here to bear the first blow for the Empire!” The lieutenant’s face showed a kind smile. “If we don’t even believe we can live, why don’t we just end it all?”
"Relax. Don't be afraid to die here. The battlefield is not for deserters."
“Peter! Watch the road carefully, don’t drive into the ditch…”
Boom! ——
The words had barely left his mouth when a deafening roar, like a firecracker exploding from a manhole cover, erupted from beneath the vehicle, causing it to sway violently like a baby's cradle. The soldiers inside were caught off guard. The soldier who had been chatting with the lieutenant, perhaps out of duty, or perhaps out of instinct, suddenly grabbed at the ammunition rack beside him. Huge shells rattled and clattered on the rack like beer bottles on a rocking horse.
……
The front of the tank tilted slightly to the lower left and stopped moving. It sounded quite noisy outside, but there seemed to be some good news: there were no gunshots.
Without much hesitation, the lieutenant straightened his clothes and suddenly opened the hatch.
"Soldier! What's going on!"
"Report!" Upon closer inspection, a soldier was seen painfully pressing one hand to his cheek, as if something was flowing down his arm.
"There was an explosion just now under the assault gun!"
As he was speaking, several soldiers, in a flurry of activity, began to gather around him, holding rifles and surveying the surroundings.
"Medic! Come here!" the lieutenant shouted to the rear, slowly climbing out of the hatch, intending to get off the vehicle to check the situation.
"Did you hear the cannon fire, soldier?"
"No, sir." The soldier shook his head, pointing to the assault gun's wheel that had already flown onto the pile of bricks. "I only saw a flash of light below, and then with a bang, the wheel flew off. I even got grazed on the face by something."
The lieutenant bent down, looked at the twisted chassis, sighed, and quickly climbed back into the cabin to retrieve his walkie-talkie.
"Locke Squadron calling command center! Assault gun No. 036 is disabled due to a landmine. Planning a new route of advance. Over!"
"All squads, listen up! Squad A, stay near assault gun 036 and wait for the repair team to arrive! All other soldiers and vehicles, line up and retreat to find a new route of advance!"
After saying that, the whole group began to play the notes of their footprints on the road backwards using the sound of wheels and footsteps.
"Let's go, there's nothing more to see here."
……
Just after they turned around...
"Hurry, hurry up..." A faint English voice could be heard from a house on the street.
A slender, metal shuttlecock was gently inserted into a horn tube.
Soldiers wearing helmets and carrying bugles slowly peered out of the windowsills, aiming the dark nozzles of the bugles at the rear of the procession on the street, at the armored vehicle that was reversing.
Beside him, a group of soldiers, also wearing green steel helmets, were ready to go.
"Stay calm...stay calm..."
Jonathan and his men huddled in the building directly opposite the black convoy.
The sergeant glanced to the side and could already sense that the anti-tank gun's mouthpiece was about to burst into action.
On the upper level, Carl and Tommy were huddled behind an M1919 machine gun, two finished cigarettes tossed aside, their palms rubbing together, sweat dripping from their hands.
On the rooftop, Pat hid behind a crack in the exterior wall, his Springfield sniper rifle calm and steady, like a crocodile floating on the water, cold and silent.
Through the scope, he endured the glare of the searchlight and strained to see the man emerging from the tank.
……
……
……
"Fire!—"
"Sir, watch out!—"
Suddenly, a sharp cannon shot rang out from behind the pile of stones ahead, instantly piercing the darkness that shrouded the street like a drawn sword. Lieutenant Lockett turned around sharply and saw sparks fly from his vehicle as a soldier tackled him to the ground.
Immediately afterwards, a hail of bullets, like cars speeding along a highway, flew in from all directions with a piercing whistle, biting into the bodies of every soldier in black. Palm-sized grenades were mixed in among them, silently landing on the ground. Soon, sparks erupted from the ground, tearing each poor life beyond recognition.
"Oh no!—"
The lieutenant was still being held down on the ground by his "heroic" subordinate when, like a burst of compressed air, a rocket as thick as an arm flew out of a window on the side of the street like a meteor falling from the sky and slammed hard into the engine of the armored vehicle at the end of the column.
After a loud flash, flames shot out of the engine's cooling vents like wild dogs, turning the surrounding darkness into a bronze glow.
"All squads! Get inside and take cover! Ah..."