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Page 79
"Lieutenant Lemilia!"
Hearing the sound, he looked back and saw another group of Soviet soldiers slowly running towards them, with the officer at the head waving vigorously at him.
"Are you all okay?"
“No problem.” The officer slowly stopped and stood still, looking at the mess on the street with disbelief. “My God, how did it get like this?”
"I don't know either. To reconstruct what happened, you'll have to find the comrades who survived the attack."
"You mean you know the general idea?"
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"First I received the news that this unit was marching down the street when suddenly a large number of enemy infantrymen appeared from both sides of the street and the firefight began."
Has no one noticed the enemy here?
"At least the comrades were unprepared for the ambush on this street. They all thought it was just a small gain for the enemy. But who would have thought that there would be even more enemies, like a pack of wolves drawn by the smell of blood and meat, rushing out from all directions."
"So exaggerated?"
"Anyway, that's what I heard." Lemilia rubbed his nose. "The commanders never expected there to be so many enemy reinforcements. As a result, both sides suffered heavy losses, and a company was almost wiped out."
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Meanwhile, inside the German Reichstag building in downtown Berlin.
"Very good. Now that the enemy has made a small opening, let them quickly find a way to expand their gains."
"Yes!"
Colonel Kari stood around the communications officer, looking back at the situation on the electronic map, deep in thought.
"What are you doing, Lieutenant Colonel?" Just then, he saw Eddie Hill sitting at a table to the side, writing something for a long time.
“Oh sir, I’m summarizing some lessons learned from our previous counterattacks.”
“Here, take it. Let’s talk over here.” The two walked to the map table. “Electronic graphics are clearer than hand-drawn ones.”
"Okay, then. Should I talk about the north or east of the city?"
Which memory and thought process do you have clearer?
“East.” The lieutenant colonel looked at what he had written. “It started at 3:40 a.m. today. At that time, we were urging the 4th Kamchatka Regiment to retreat in an orderly manner while resisting the Soviet offensive. At that time, the Soviets planned to launch a flanking attack from this side street.”
"That's right, I also remember there were several squads of infantry that were pushed back by the enemy on this street, didn't I?"
"Yes, it was them. Then the infantry leader disobeyed the order to retreat. Instead, because of the Soviet army's lack of vigilance, they were caught on this road."
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"It's a miracle the Soviets didn't spot them. Then you rushed around frantically, calling all the surrounding companies that were supposed to retreat?"
“That’s right. The Soviet army is much smarter than those clueless knights. Once they find something is wrong, they’ll call in a lot of manpower and firepower to take care of it. In that case, let’s take advantage of their lack of intelligence and surround the point to catch the reinforcements.”
"Did you expect the battle to end up like this?"
“Oh, dear Colonel, the outcome is far from what I expected.” Eddie Hill smiled. “First, I sent two nearby squadrons, a total of four mechs and two tanks, to turn around. Then, not long after, we discovered the Soviet relief force flanking from the flank. So I had to send a few squadrons further away to quickly block that gap as well.”
"And then things got even worse, didn't they?" The colonel smiled slightly.
"That's right. Immediately afterwards, we saw more Soviet troops advancing this way, and even the street where the initial firefight had taken place had more people. I was still hesitating at the time, wondering if we should retreat quickly to reduce casualties."
"So I ignored your opinion and ordered more squadrons to head here."
“Well, I must say that my courage is sometimes inferior to yours.” Eddie Hill pursed his lips. “Now the fighting in this area and the surrounding areas has gone completely out of control. Not only has it unexpectedly rescued more troops, but the Soviet army has also lost a lot of tanks and soldiers here.”
"Indeed, once we take care of the tanks, it's hard to say that the KMFs can be destroyed by the infantry at a suitable distance, unless they are at a significant disadvantage. However, taking care of so many enemies comes at a considerable cost; we've just made our casualty ratio look better."
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“There’s no need to mourn them too much, Your Excellency.” Eddie Hill held up the paper covered in writing. “This was a last-minute decision on our part. Lowering the casualty ratio is just the beginning. Now we’re looking at how to plan the defensive operations for the future. I believe we will definitely find a way to help the general get through these ten days.”
“I’m very interested in your tactics, kid,” Kari patted the lieutenant colonel on the shoulder. “But we can discuss your battle plan later. What about the enemy’s night-fighting equipment?”
"A squad leader at the time spoke to us and mentioned that several of his men were out on the street without being spotted by the Soviet troops. They managed to escape the lights and run safely back into the house. It seems that the Soviet troops not only caught us off guard, but also lacked the necessary equipment for night fighting."
"That's why their advance at night is much slower than during the day."
"I suppose when you and the vanguard went out to battle before, you didn't discover that the enemy had any night vision equipment."
"Underneath the green steel helmet is just a face; the gas mask and night vision goggles are just air."
"That's quite unfortunate. So, did you have any opportunity to get a close look at the enemy's tanks? I'm more worried that it's more likely that the infantry didn't have night vision devices, but what if the tanks didn't either?"
"When the Soviet tanks terrified the Vanguard, I only accompanied Lieutenant Colonel Caronville to participate in the target practice. I'll have to find out when I get another chance to talk to him."
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"Colonel Kari! The casualties of the 4th Surveyga Regiment have been tallied. Please take a look."
"Ok!"
Section 110, Chapter 70: We will get out of this slump, one day...
Lieutenant General Clay's plane had been missing over the American-occupied zone for a long time. Although the sky had brightened, the sun was still tightly pressed behind the clouds, and occasionally a few raindrops would fall from the sky and sink into the soil.
Bad Nauheim continued to function calmly under the not-so-bright sky, miraculously unscathed from the war, which made the city's infrastructure surprisingly intact—while Frankfurt am Main, only 27 kilometers to the west, was still a scorched wasteland.
Aside from horse-drawn carriages, the only other vehicles on the streets were cold American jeeps and trucks, traversing the chilly winds of the first day of November. Children looked around, adult residents worked silently, and American soldiers patrolled the streets. When they were tired, they could only sit down in a corner, light a cigarette, or brush the dirt off their shoes.
Everyone hopes that the wars of the past will never come again. Bad Nauheim cannot withstand further turmoil, and the people living under the gloomy sky cannot withstand it either.
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In the hospital building to the north, a nurse in charge of the front desk was idly scribbling on a piece of white paper with a pencil—it was impossible to guess what she was trying to draw, only that she was very confused and depressed.
"Hey, young lady." At that moment, someone walked up to the counter and patted the table. "I'm looking for someone."
The caregiver didn't even put down his pen. He slowly raised his head and looked at the visitor in front of him—an American soldier in uniform—with a lukewarm gaze.
"Name?" She took a deep breath and reached for the roster beside her.
"First Infantry Division, Private Pat Griss."
"Third floor lobby."
"Thanks."
The soldier turned around and went upstairs. Along the way, he encountered several medical staff and patients, but there were no greetings or idle chatter.
He quickly found the hall, the hall full of temporary beds. On a hospital bed with the headboard against the wall, he saw that familiar face, sitting on the edge of the bed, quietly looking at the light streaming in from the window.
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“Sergeant Campbell…” Pat shouted excitedly, but then suddenly coughed. “Cough cough cough!”
"Hey!" Jonathan quickly ran to the bedside and placed his hands on the private's shoulders.
"Lie down, your ribs aren't healed yet, are they?"
"No need, the doctor said I can sit up, so I can read a book or something after I wake up."
“Fine, but this damn weather is no joke.” Jonathan said, draping the clothes from the pillow over the private’s back, and picking up the book next to the pillow to look at the title.
"Forster?"
"No, no, it's called 'Faust'." The private smiled and took the book. "So, Sergeant, how have things been these past two days?"
"It's nothing." The sergeant picked up a stool from the other side. "After I came back and quit the day before yesterday, I've been in charge of slowly grinding down the new recruits. Tsk, it's another bunch of greenhorns who came in as replacements."
“Sir.” Pat pursed his lips. “How many of our classmates didn’t come back?”
“This…” The sergeant lowered his head, turning it away from the viewpoint, “Besides the few who carried you back that night, Carl, Tommy, Bill, there was only…”
The sergeant remained silent, only raising one hand and extending one finger, which swayed in front of the private's eyes like a candle as he breathed.
"Let's not talk about that." The sergeant pulled a paper packet from his pocket. "Did the doctor say what you can't eat?"
"No, no, no." The private opened the paper package, which contained a few fruit candies.
"Wow!" he exclaimed with a smile as he unwrapped the candy. "Thank you, sir."
Jonathan didn't say anything, just smiled as he watched Pat put the first shiny candy into his mouth and slowly savor it.
"It's been so long since I've touched a gun, I'm so bored."
"Did the doctor say you can't go back to the battlefield?"
"It's nothing, it's just that I haven't seen a sniper rifle scope in a long time, and my eyes are itching to use it." The private said, raising his hand as if he were using a pistol and aiming forward.
Jonathan laughed, and he also took his hand, made it into a hollow cylinder, and placed it on Pat's "gun back".
"like this?"
"Hahaha, cough cough cough cough!" The private laughed a few times before coughing again.
"Hey, watch out, your clothes might fall off."
"Ah, speaking of which," the private said, as if remembering something, "those new guys, have they been... well, you know?"
"What what what?"
"So, you mean, the different things I showed when I first contacted you to report for duty?"
"They're all the same as before, greenhorns, and when it comes to knowledge outside of warfare, few of them can say anything of substance."
"Now the Russians are having a conflict with us, and we've suffered heavy casualties... In this strange situation, have any of the new recruits expressed fear, complained, or disobeyed orders?"
"Do you think this son of a bitch can survive in our class until the time when we go back to war?" Jonathan said, counting on his fingers.
Just then, a shout came from the hallway, startling everyone in the lobby who turned to look in that direction.
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"Those who aren't injured, get the hell out of here! Damn it!"
The echoes of the curses still lingered in the stairwell, while the sound of boots pounding on the stairs grew louder and louder. Soon, a general wearing a helmet and short boots appeared there.
"This place is for the brave warriors who were wounded in Berlin, not a nursery for these cowardly brats to feed and nurse!"
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Jonathan and Pat were now certain of who it was—it was General Patton, who seemed to have finally found some free time and had come to the hospital to visit the wounded. The sergeant watched as the general and his entourage walked past ward after ward, heading straight for the hall.
"General." The sergeant quickly stood up.
“Sit down, son.” General Patton shooed him back to the bench, then walked over to Pat’s bed and sat on the edge of it.
"Good." The general glanced at the division insignia on Jonathan's sleeve and asked the private, "Which division does the First Red Division belong to, sir?"
"26th Infantry Regiment, Sir." The private spoke softly, just as he had when he was chatting with the sergeant.
"Huh?" Barton seemed not to have heard clearly and leaned forward.
“Ah…” Jonathan then reached out and paused in front of Pat.