Arc of Fire

On the Prosen Army side,

Major Shrifen cursed as he stood up, “Didn’t the Air Force say the Ant Air Force was finished? Are we being attacked by our own Air Force then?”

Major Franz also got up, wiping the coffee off his uniform with a handkerchief while echoing the sentiment, “You can’t believe a word from the Air Force. It’s said that Duke Meyer diverted all the Air Force’s funds to renovate his castle.”

It seemed that both the old officers of Junker nobility and the emerging juniors had reached a consensus: not to trust the Air Force.

Major Shrifen turned and shouted, “Adjutant, report the damage.”

The adjutant came over and saluted, “A total of 21 dead, 49 injured, and seven trucks have been destroyed.”

Shrifen cursed, “Damn Air Force, just like that I’ve lost two platoons! Two platoons!”

Major Franz said, “Shouldn’t this grudge be counted on the enemy’s head? Luckily, last night we received the support of an entire battalion of combat engineers; they were very effective yesterday, and deploying more engineers today should enable us to take it down.”

"Hope so,” said Major Shrifen, looking at the sky as if worried the plane that had just attacked might circle back to surprise him, “but with such a start this morning, I have a bad feeling. Did last night’s sentries spot anything unusual in the village?”

Shrifen frowned, “Our enemy is very cunning, that engine sound might be a deceptive tactic. Didn’t the person who shot at Tank No. 422 yesterday say that they hit it?”

The chief of staff came over, replacing the adjutant, and replied, “Yes, the gunner believes they hit the enemy at least once. But since the enemy was still able to counterattack, it seems the hit wasn’t critical.”

Shrifen pursed his lips and after standing and observing the distant village for a moment, he spoke softly, “The engine sounds from last night might be a deception. Maybe their tanks have already lost combat capability, and they’re using the engine sounds to intimidate us, prevent us from deploying tanks to engage the enemy in the village.”

At that moment, Captain Hoffman from Tank Crew 170 arrived at the peak, heels snapping together, and shouted, “Report!”

Shrifen said, “At ease, speak.”

Hoffman said, “I request to join today’s assault. I want a one-on-one with that enemy Tank No. 422!”

"Idiot! War is not a knight’s joust!” Shrifen cursed, “We are enemies, it’s a fight to the death! You’ll suffer if you don’t grasp this!”

"I assure you, Tank No. 422 will be destroyed. The Ante People’s tanks are too outdated, they only won by tricks. I won’t allow them to succeed again!” Hoffman said, brimming with confidence.

Shrifen stared at him for a few seconds before placing a hand on his shoulder and saying, “Good, then this morning your platoon will advance with the infantry.”

He turned to Major Fritz, “Hoffman is our best tank operator, and his platoon is our most elite. I’ve been keeping them in reserve until now.”

Fritz extended his hand, “Pleased to work with you, Captain Hoffman.”

Hoffman quickly shook Fritz’s hand.

Even though the young Emperor now deliberately promoted those who embraced new technology to counter the old officer corps, the rank and file soldiers didn’t care much for this; they still respected these old-fashioned Junker nobility officers.

Especially Fritz, who was the spitting image of everyone’s perception of the old officer corps.

Shrifen said, “Prepare for the assault. We have already been delayed a full twenty-four hours. If even the artillery battalion stuck in traffic behind us gets here, then our previous rush will have been for nothing!”

However, Fritz said, “The artillery battalion should be arriving soon. We’ve been stuck here for 24 hours already. We might as well wait for the heavy artillery to arrive, it could reduce casualties.”

"No!” Shrifen raised his voice, “In Carolingian, we relied on tanks and Stukas, relentless assault, and it was only after that we drove the United Kingdom’s forces into the sea! Heavy artillery isn’t essential; this is modern warfare!”

Fritz closed his mouth.

————

Wang Zhong, who had been watching the enemy finish their deployment, called out loudly to the people under the water tower, “Take cover! The enemy is about to start artillery preparation!”

No sooner had his words fallen than the first round of artillery barrage came crashing down.

After once again making certain there were no anomalies in the enemy deployment, Wang Zhong, amid the roaring cannonade, strolled down from the water tower and entered the manager’s office of the winery.

The winery was the only concrete building in town, impervious to the high-explosive rounds from the 75mm infantry guns.

Of course, if rounds were shot through the windows, they could still injure those inside, but the enemy’s covering fire was in high arcs, and the angle of descent meant the shells were not so easily fired through the windows.

Inside the room, Wang Zhong looked over the map, seemingly oblivious to the explosions outside.

He sought the Kazaria Kingdom on the map, but only managed to find the name of the region they were currently in: the Duchy of Wostrom.

The duchy’s terrain was as flat as a pancake, with the small mound to the west of Peniye probably being one of the few high points in the whole duchy.

Furthermore, Wang Zhong also discovered that to the east of Peniye, there was a large river called the Diber, with Bogdanovka sitting right on its bank.

While Wang Zhong was engrossed in his map study, the shelling outside stopped.

He glanced at his watch, “How strange, today’s barrage was so much shorter than yesterday’s?”

————

"Why has it stopped?” Shrifen asked, frowning.

The artillery company commander had a bitter expression, “The enemy air raid just destroyed our ammunition trucks, we don’t have that many shells left.”

Shrifen’s mouth twitched.

Franz took the opportunity to suggest, “Then we should wait for the heavy artillery…”

"Have the mortars smoke bomb, begin the assault!” Shrifen interrupted Franz, “Also, contact the Air Force and have them take their responsibilities seriously!”

"Yes!”

————

Wang Zhong once again climbed up the water tower and indeed saw the enemy’s mortars laying down smoke.

The fall of smoke bombs was not a bit different from yesterday!

Wang Zhong was unsure whether to call the enemy rigid or praise them for being well-trained and striving for perfection.

As the smoke spread properly, the enemy’s assault troops began to move out.

And when the sound of engines reached this side, the hidden No. 67 heavy tank at the edge of the village also fired up, rolled out of its hiding spot, and charged along the road toward the ambush position.

But no, calling it an ambush isn’t quite right, it should be a position for a head-on confrontation with the enemy.

Within the enemy’s attack column, Wang Zhong spotted a familiar face, the No. 170 Mark III tank: it was this very tank that had previously, from a distance of two kilometers, precisely hit and detonated the church bell tower with a single shot, causing the large bell to fall from above.

The cracked bell still lay on the street now.

The enemy had sent their elite forces forward.

Looking closely at tank No. 170, there were two gold rings and three silver rings on its barrel.

While Wang Zhong didn’t know what the Prosen people’s regulations were in this timeline, he was aware that the Sturmtiger’s single soldier tank destruction medal went from five silvers to one gold.

If these kill rings followed the same principle, then tank No. 170 had already destroyed thirteen tanks.

Elite indeed; if it were taken out here, how many tank operators’ lives could be spared!

At the thought, Wang Zhong couldn’t help but feel pleased.

Just then, at the edge of his vision, he saw a heavy truck enter his field of view and then stop.

The hairs on the back of his neck bristled instantly–such heavy trucks were usually used to tow heavy artillery, and heavy howitzers over 100 millimeters were not often brought so close to the front line.

After all, such guns had ranges of a dozen kilometers or more, making it unnecessary to bring them to the front line.

Only direct-fire guns would be brought to the front line.

A heavy truck towing a direct-fire gun–Wang Zhong could think of only one kind.

No, he had to confirm what this truck was towing.

Wang Zhong darted down the water tower like a shot, untied Bucephalus that was tied to a stake at the door, mounted the horse, and galloped away.

The guard at the entrance of the winery saw him and quickly shouted, “Count, where are you going?”

"I’ll be back soon, hold your position!”

As he spoke, Bucephalus dashed through the battered streets of Upper Peniye.

The soldiers hiding behind cover all popped their heads out to watch Wang Zhong.

"Are we charging?” someone asked.

In the current situation, Wang Zhong knew that if he really gave the order to charge, this bunch might actually leave their houses and follow him on horseback into the wild.

So he yelled out, “Stay put, remember your mission! Don’t move! Stay where you are!”

As he shouted, he left the village and, at the village entrance, he pulled the reins and Bucephalus came to an abrupt halt.

At the village entrance, he could clearly see that the heavy truck was actually towing a pontoon bridge.

Then he remembered–he had indeed seen several rivers on the map. If the enemy wanted a swift advance, they had to consider the possibility of the Ante Army blowing up bridges.

Wang Zhong felt slightly relieved, but then thought since he had come to the village entrance, wouldn’t it be better to advance another five hundred meters and get a clear view of the enemy’s arrangements?

With smoke cover anyway, even if the enemy pursued him, their commander, they would be stopped by Tank 67.

So Wang Zhong continued to spur his horse forward, all the while observing the enemy’s movements from an overhead perspective.

In addition to the bridge-building team, Wang Zhong also saw many heavy engineering vehicles–it seemed the enemy would have more combat engineers joining the attack.

Just then, Wang Zhong suddenly heard someone call out to him, “Count, what are you doing?”

He switched from his unrestricted line of sight and saw that Bucephalus had crossed in front of Tank 67, with Xie Liaosha in the turret, eyes bulging as he stared at him.

"Count!”

Wang Zhong: “I’m going to scout the enemy, don’t worry.”

After that, Wang Zhong continued forward.

After switching his perspective, he even saw the armored recovery vehicle; they were repairing a damaged Panzer III.

Good grief, was there an enemy combined arms battalion right in front of him? Had the concept of combined arms battalions emerged this early in this timeline?

With the aid of the “外挂,” Wang Zhong could see the color of the enemy’s underwear as clear as day.

He was enjoying the thrill of exploiting his advantage when he suddenly felt he might have gone too far forward.

Snapping back to reality, he switched back to his own perspective, only to find that there was no smoke ahead–Bucephalus had run too fast!

He immediately pulled hard on the reins.

Bucephalus, a bit overexcited, almost failed to stop, even rearing up on its forehooves.

Wang Zhong managed, with some difficulty, to bring the spirited mount to a halt. Flustered, his actions caused Bucephalus to end up sideways across the road.

Then, he found himself face-to-face with the enemy’s great army.

This was awkward.

Now, he truly felt sweat soaking his back.

————

But from Major Shrifen’s perspective, the situation was quite different.

The major, with his sharp hearing, had long heard the rumbling of engines from the Ante side and lifted his binoculars, eager to see what sort of fool wanted to use outmoded tanks in an open field against the invincible Prussian armored forces.

However, Ante tank commanders seemed cowardly, preferring not to open their hatches and poke their heads out to observe.

Just as Major Shrifen was thinking this, a white horse emerged from the smoke.

Astride the white horse was a dashing general.

The general pulled the reins and the white horse reared up grandly on its forelegs.

Major Shrifen was no Junker noble and knew nothing of horsemanship, but the old Junker noble Major Franz next to him exclaimed in admiration, “Fine horsemanship–that move is a threat to the opponent in a horsemanship contest. He’s expressing his contempt for us.”

The major pursed his lips.

At that moment, the general made his white horse turn sideways, blocking the road.

Franz: “The meaning of this move is…”

"I know.” Shrifen squeezed the words through his teeth, “It says we can’t advance a step further.”

Franz: “Yes. By the way, that’s a fine horse. It could sell for at least three hundred thousand marks in the capital, Germania.”

Suddenly, Shrifen snatched up the wireless phone, “Hoffman! Kill that general! But don’t hurt the horse!”

"What?” Franz exclaimed in shock, “That’s not gentlemanly!”

Shrifen sneered, “No need for chivalry towards inferior races.”

Then, visible on the hillside, Tank 170 came to a halt.

It was a thousand meters away from the white horse general and Shrifen had no doubt that Hoffman could hit the target with precision.

The turret of Tank 170 began to rotate!

In a flash, another steel beast tore out from behind the white horse general through the smoke.

This beast was bigger than any tank in the Prussian Empire; its tracks crushed the helmets left behind by fleeing soldiers, and the powerful roar of its engine echoed across the plain.