Shadow Empire

Chapter 999 The Big Order and the Endless Cycle

"The Federation... is truly a monster."

An officer watched the planes landing on the runway, his eyes filled with envy for the federal industrial manufacturing capabilities, but behind that envy lay a deeper fear.

He feared the Federation, feared their soldiers, feared their manufacturing capabilities.

How long has it been, and the federal planes have already arrived?
Looking at these handsome fellows, he could only suppress his unease for the time being.

Even though the Federation people are their allies, they just can't bring themselves to like this ally who is a little too powerful.

Large numbers of planes landed one after another on the runway that had been urgently repaired. Fortunately, these fixed-wing aircraft did not have such high requirements for the runway, and even if there was some uneven ground, it would not affect their landing.

The first batch to arrive consisted of fighter jets, which were constructed using a small amount of metal, wood, and aluminum sheeting. This effectively reduced the weight of the aircraft, allowing it to carry more ammunition and fly faster.

The Federal Department of Defense and Congress are very much looking forward to the performance of these aircraft. If they can deal a heavy blow to the morale of the Dantras on the battlefield, it will greatly help boost the morale of the soldiers.

During this period, the soldiers were exhausted by the planes buzzing around in the sky like flies. If they could shoot down a few enemy planes, it would be a great demonstration of their strength.

Sergeant Bohr is resting.

After more than a year of war, Paul had become a qualified soldier and a qualified sergeant.

His comrades-in-arms have changed countless times, but he has always remained here.

Sometimes he would think that if he were a true Commonwealth citizen, he would probably be a second lieutenant or first lieutenant by now, and an officer who wouldn't have to fight on the front lines.

But he was just an illegal immigrant to the Empire, and he came here for a legal status promised by the federal government.

He was often afraid. On the battlefield, no one knows what will happen next. A piece of shrapnel flying from somewhere could take your life.

He had many injuries, and he looked somewhat frightening when he took off his clothes.

What was most frightening was that a shell once landed right next to him, but he miraculously survived, although he suffered a broken bone and lost two fingers.

He was indeed very lucky. Of the comrades who joined the company with him, only those who were disabled on the battlefield and transferred to the rear are still alive, totaling no more than twenty people.

Everyone else collapsed on this land.

He no longer has any fear of war, battle, or battlefield; instead, he finds a calming power permeating the place.

The moment the sound of cannons and gunfire rang out, he would enter a state of unprecedented focus and then complete his work.

"Bohr, come here."

The company commander shouted from a distance. Bohr took the cigarette out of his mouth, looked at it in his hand, and then took a deep drag. He could feel a burning pain where his fingers were pinching it before he threw the cigarette on the ground.

This is the back area, so smoking is not a problem.

He brushed the dust off his clothes and jogged toward the company commander's tent.

All the non-commissioned officers in the company had gathered here, along with some ordinary soldiers.

"We've just been given a new mission: we need to take over this area before 3:40 PM."

The company commander drew a circle on the map. As the most senior soldier here, Paul couldn't help but chuckle twice, and everyone looked up at him.

The focus of these gazes made Paul feel slightly uncomfortable, and he could only ask softly, "Company Commander, to be honest, have you offended anyone?"

The company commander was somewhat puzzled. "Why do you ask that?"

Paul pointed to the circled area. "We can't take this place."

“The Slade’s reconnaissance planes have been circling overhead, and they can see any military operation. Once they discover that we are heading to…” He glanced down at the markings on the map, “they will definitely concentrate their firepower and drive us back.”

"With people watching from the sky and artillery on the ground constantly attacking us, I see absolutely no chance of success."

The company commander's expression turned serious. "I haven't offended anyone, first of all!"

"Secondly, this mission isn't just for our company; there are other companies involved. Also, you don't need to worry about those flies in the sky, because our planes are here too."

This question immediately livened up the previously somewhat dull atmosphere, and Paul couldn't help but ask, "Do we have airplanes now?"

The company commander nodded, hands on his hips. "Yes, and the Ministry of National Defense said the effect was very good, and it was specifically targeted at these air units."

“They will fly up first and take down these planes that are monitoring us, and then we will advance directly. They can also provide air cover for us.”

"Moreover, we also have bomb-dropping planes. This time, it's their turn to experience our power."

Even if he didn't explain, these soldiers couldn't refuse to carry out orders, but an explanation would make them feel a little better, at least letting them know that the military wasn't sending them to their deaths.

At three o'clock, a large number of Arrow fighter jets took off from the airport. In order to achieve a brilliant victory in the first air battle, hundreds of them took to the air.

While waiting on the ground for the forced march, Paul pressed his helmet against the sky and looked at the dense array of fighter jets flying towards the battlefield. He couldn't help but whistle.

The silver-white fuselages shimmered with a captivating luster under the sunlight, and many people on the ground waved their arms at the planes.

The enemy planes had clearly noticed the large number of Federation aircraft flying over. They did have intelligence that the Federation was also producing aircraft, but they didn't know that Federation aircraft had already arrived on the battlefield.

At first, these reconnaissance planes were not too nervous. Since they were all in the air, the only way to cause casualties was to use rifles or pistols at close range.

So the reconnaissance planes weren't worried about these aircraft at all. Instead, they took the initiative to approach the Federation's aircraft, wanting to see clearly the structure of these aircraft and what their purpose was.

When the two sides were very close, the pilots of the Federation fighter jets snapped out of their incomprehensible daze and immediately pressed the firing button.

The machine guns, specifically designed to fire at fixed-wing aircraft, came into play. In an instant, bullets from many muzzles formed a metallic storm that tore apart the reconnaissance plane in front of them.

The ground troops stared wide-eyed as the reconnaissance plane crashed down from the sky.

Paul stood up excitedly, shouting, "Fuck, fuck!"

"These sons of bitches finally fell, fuck!"

The other soldiers cheered as well. They had really had enough of the harassment from these planes, couldn't sleep well, and had bombs constantly falling from above.

Artillery shells are actually difficult to hit directly into trenches because of the angle at which they can be fired. Most of the time, it is safe to hide in trenches. But since the advent of airplanes, trenches are no longer safe.

Now, watching these sons of bitches fall down, everyone feels an unprecedented sense of satisfaction!
Several transport vehicles immediately drove towards the crash site. The Ministry of National Defense and the manufacturers of these aircraft had already informed the frontline troops.

If they shoot down an enemy plane, they must retrieve the wreckage if conditions permit.

By studying the wreckage of the Dantra people's aircraft, they might be able to gain some insights.

The remaining fighter jets vanished in an instant, and the ground troops began their advance, soon entering the battle.

War is a complex matter in many ways, and the advance of the front lines is also a complex process, filled with the sounds of gunfire and shouts.

There was a dark-skinned man in the company who wasn't a federal citizen, but he also wanted to obtain legal federal status.

The federal government has now suspended regular labor immigration, retaining only windows for investment immigration and skilled worker immigration.

For ordinary people to become federal citizens, the only way is through conscription and immigration. He wanted a better future for himself and his family, so he came here, and he often showed Paul the two photos he brought with him, which showed his family.

He said this was the driving force that kept him going in this hell.

He had seen those two photos of the big, dark-skinned man. Due to the limitations of technology and materials, photos from that era were generally yellowed and grayish.

So all Paul saw in those two photos were clothes and skirts that would make him uneasy in the middle of the night, and faint shadows.

They were so dark that even a camera couldn't capture their features. Sometimes, Bohr wondered how this big, dark guy could tell them apart.

He just couldn't tell, even after watching it several times.

Aside from this thing that Bohr couldn't understand, this big black guy was actually a pretty good guy.

He is strong and can carry more supplies; his natural talent is something no one can envy. He is also very outgoing, likes to dance, sing, and swear.

Every time he fired a shot, he would say "Mare fak." If anyone heard the gunshot change from "bang bang bang" to "Mare fak bang mare fak bang mare fak bang," then the dark-skinned man must be nearby.

This big black guy was very smart. After he learned that Paul was a true veteran, he followed Paul in every battle.

Bohr would sometimes warn him that doing this was not a good thing, because he had experienced too many times his comrades dying beside him.

In a sense, he's a guy who attracts bad luck.

But the big black guy never listened to his request to leave him; instead, he stayed with him.

He survived several battles, and it seemed that misfortune had left Paul?
Bohr didn't know; all he knew was that to survive, he couldn't be afraid.

Now he can remain remarkably calm on the battlefield, without fear, apprehension, or excitement; he simply stands up, raises his gun, and fires.

He didn't know if he had hit the target. In fact, most soldiers didn't know whether the bullet had hit the enemy after they pulled the trigger. After they fired, they had to hide instead of continuing to stare.

But they'll have a feeling, a very strange feeling, that they've hit the jackpot.

Or it didn't happen.

When he peeked out again and fired a shot, he had that feeling. This time he hit the target. He clenched his fist, pulled back the bolt, and looked back at the big black guy, wanting to brag to him and ease the slightly tense atmosphere between them.

His pupils contracted slightly, and the big black man was already lying on the ground, half of his face and head blown off.

Paul cursed "Fuck!" and then fell silent again.

He pulled the dog tag off the guy, took out his two photos, put them in his pocket, and then never looked at him again.

He regained his composure and continued to raise his gun, fire, and change positions.

This battle was not easy; the Slade were very resilient, but fortunately, the planes in the air provided them with some assistance.

These fighter jets pulled their triggers as they dove, and their machine guns strafed the ground from the air, playing a crucial role in capturing the stronghold.

The battle continued until dusk, when the gunfire gradually subsided.

Several companies came up this time, and they were basically in a state of semi-crippled condition.

Paul watched the planes returning to their origin and sighed silently.

More than seventy men died in their company. Although they would be replaced soon, he still felt a faint sadness.

The first time he sat there, smoking, looking at the rows of corpses, both his own and the enemy's, he felt a sense of disgust.

This damn war.

He thought of something, took out his notebook and a pencil stub, and began to write down some of his emotions and thoughts.

He didn't know why he was doing it, but he just wanted to.

The Federation fighter jets made their debut with great success, so much so that the Slade planes dared not take off, and now the skies belong to the Federation.

However, the situation changed the next day when Slade fighter jets arrived, and the two sides clashed in the air.

People on the ground watched the dogfight in the sky with binoculars or their naked eyes. The life of a pilot that Bohr had once longed for came to an end at this moment.

"It must hurt a lot to fall from that height and land on the ground," he said, puffing on his cigarette.

This made his comrades around him burst out laughing, which was probably one of the few times on the battlefield when they could relax and vent their emotions.

In their view, the planes flying erratically in the sky were telling everyone in a very special way that the form of war had changed dramatically.

The air battle lasted for three days, with many planes crashing on both sides. In the end, the Federation gained air superiority by a narrow margin.

The gears of war began to turn rapidly once again. The troop carriers from the rear brought eighty soldiers to Bohr's company as a supplement to the losses in this battle.

Because they had some new missions, command ordered them to continue advancing and, under the cover of aircraft, take over Area 22.

This time, there are more people participating in the battle, probably two to three thousand, and no one knows whether they can win.

A new follower appeared by his side. When this follower learned that Bohr was a "battle veteran", he even took some of Bohr's supplies on his back.

He explained why he joined the army and his longing to go back home.

He hoped that Paul could impart some battlefield knowledge, wisdom, or experience to him; he loved his family and wanted to go home.

Everything seemed to have returned to the starting point, except that each time he returned to the starting point, the people around him had changed.

He treated this new follower with neither joy nor sorrow as he had treated the big black guy, warning him that following him might not lead to any good outcome, but the follower still followed him firmly.

This gave Bohr a very strange feeling, as if he was trapped in an endless vicious cycle in this matter and couldn't get out.

The impressive results achieved at the front were quickly reported to the Federal Department of Defense and Congress, along with a series of documents regarding the soldiers who died on the front.

However, the reports that recorded the names of soldiers who gave their lives for the Federation and their deeds were casually tossed aside by these bigwigs, who were more concerned with the performance of the aircraft on the battlefield.

The performance was, of course, satisfactory to everyone. With Congress's permission, the Department of Defense directly signed a mega-order for at least two thousand aircraft, making the shareholders of these companies grin from ear to ear.

Their performance in the stock market was also impeccable, considering that it involved orders worth 100 million.

Although this order may only be a few percent of the orders of those established military industrial groups, this few percent is a significant step forward, a process of going from nothing to something!
Everyone believed that as long as they continued to develop new aircraft, they would get more orders and more profits!

The company's shareholders and public relations team entertained members of Congress and officials from the Department of Defense in New Gold City. They even took a portion of their profits and channeled it to these "key figures" through various legal means.

If a supplier dares to price a toilet worth two dollars at two thousand dollars, the vast majority of that money will absolutely not end up in their own hands; that's the truth.

At the banquet, these public relations representatives raised their glasses and openly discussed with the officials, members of parliament, and other dignitaries how to bring them more benefits.

Just two blocks away, Lance was sitting in a restaurant having a meal with Tom.

The band's music was soothing and relaxing, which was completely absent here; it could be described as a "chaotic world."

(End of this chapter)