Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

“Colonel Kari? Perfect.” He patted the soldier beside him, gesturing for him to leave. “Speak.”

“Uh.” Kari frowned, looking at the lieutenant colonel standing in front of the curtain. “Let’s go in…”

"Don't delay, just stay here." Caronville smiled slightly. "You're here to report to your superiors, not to visit patients in the hospital."

“Well…” Caronville paused, “Colonel, is there any new situation around us?”

"Sir," the colonel continued in a serious tone, "judging from the current situation, our advance is proceeding at a reasonable pace. At least tonight, it's impossible for the enemy to have time to launch a surprise attack on our camp..."

"Don't jump to such an optimistic conclusion," Caronville interrupted him. "The enemy we're facing this time is different from the ones we've encountered before. While the tide is turning in our favor, we must strike hard and catch them off guard so they don't have time to make their next decision. That's our vanguard's primary task in securing our landing zone."

"Your Excellency, what are your intentions?"

"Given the current situation, we definitely can't launch a full-scale offensive. Otherwise, we'd be creating too large a defensive line in such a big city, especially since the enemy has some difficult-to-deal-with aspects. Our few thousand men simply can't hold the line..."

Caronville took a deep breath, glanced thoughtfully at the sky, and then looked down.

"Colonel, go and gather those key members of our training regiment together to discuss the situation. If possible, launch a surprise attack tonight; otherwise, we'll only face a tough battle ahead."

“Yes, as you wish, Your Excellency.” Kari’s reply seemed to be tinged with the burning heat of a raging fire. “Having followed you for so long, although my rank is higher than yours, making everyone laugh at me as a deputy regimental commander, among all these commanders, besides General Marendor, I’m afraid only you are worthy of my respect.”

"You're actually being obsequious, aren't you?" Caronville squinted, looking up at the sky. "Since you're a soldier, then you should..."

"Cough cough cough!!!"

A violent cough burst from his mouth.

“Lieutenant Colonel!” The colonel stretched out his hands, intending to step forward.

"I'm fine... I just got a bug in my throat..." The lieutenant colonel held out his hand to Kari, looking relaxed. "Go and finalize the battle plan, so your men can avoid getting bitten by mosquitoes as soon as possible."

"Please take care of yourself, sir." Colonel Kari saluted him. "You haven't slept for almost three days."

With that, Kari made a somewhat clumsy turn and disappeared into the crowd of soldiers.

The lieutenant colonel sighed, parted the curtain, and went into the barracks, silently taking a small, flat box out of his pocket.

A few pills landed in his palm, and then he picked up a glass of water.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto the bed in the dark without even taking off his clothes.

"Yes... I really need to get some rest..."

The ceiling in my eyes slowly changed from a circle to a flat surface, and gradually, only darkness remained...

……

The exhausted lieutenant colonel had already drifted off to sleep, while Colonel Cary seemed to become his embodiment in the night.

Soon, the colonel received several officers one after another in the command center.

"Gentlemen," the colonel said, his face clouded with worry, "who can summarize our current situation?"

"Ammunition supplies are still sufficient," an officer replied impatiently. "The only problem is a slight shortage of water for cleaning. If all else fails, we can just jump into the river to the north for a bath. I really don't understand why the lieutenant colonel is so fixated on the supplies, acting like a doormat..."

"That's right, another batch of supplies is about to arrive, and the people on the other side of the gate are being driven into rebellious adolescence by the lieutenant colonel."

"What! They're all old subordinates, can't stand the lieutenant colonel's old habit of caring about logistics?" Kari's voice was laced with a growl, clearly indicating his displeasure.

"Let's put the supply issue aside for now. What I'm concerned about right now is the situation on our front lines!"

“Colonel,” a refined-looking officer replied, pointing to the map display screen, “up until I left the front line just now, we had established a landing zone that spans 9 kilometers east to west and 6 kilometers north to south.”

"And look closely." The officer's statement drew the attention of the agitated crowd to the map.

"This is the location of our camp, and also the starting point of our offensive. Although we've only opened up this not-so-large area, I've discovered a very important clue."

"Our eastward-advancing troops are experiencing increasingly higher losses, but the westward-attacking troops have suffered far fewer casualties than those in the east. Furthermore, if you look closely, we've advanced 30% more distance westward than eastward, occupied more than twice the area, and most of our commendable victories are concentrated in the west. So…"

“That doesn’t explain everything!” A captain standing nearby unexpectedly interrupted him.

"Didn't you notice? There's a large open area to the west, lacking those annoying ruins, which is perfect for utilizing the KMF's mobility. If our advance is still so slow, we should start to wonder if we're fighting otherworldly beings in snails!"

"Really? Then let me ask you, if they have tanks, are we really fighting a war on snails?"

"You...what do you mean?"

The officer took out a stack of reports.

“Come and see, these are the records left by my men on the western front.”

……

……

"...Many of the otherworldly soldiers carry rifles that are over a meter long, like ceremonial guns. They have a slow rate of fire and a small magazine capacity, so their firepower is no match for our infantry's assault rifles..."

"...This afternoon, while repairing Sunderland with my comrades on the eastern front, we heard them say that there were otherworldly tanks on the eastern front, and that they were very sturdy. They warned us to be careful. But along the way, we haven't encountered anything that UL bullets can't destroy. The only heavy firepower the otherworldly soldiers can provide are some tracked trucks, and occasionally a few six-wheeled armored vehicles, but they are much smaller than our infantry fighting vehicles..."

"...I heard that Baron Barat on the eastern front was killed by enemy tanks. My God, we're really lucky. I talked to the other soldiers today, and apart from one Sunderland from another squadron being destroyed by artillery ambush, our KMFs haven't encountered any threats at all..."

……

……

"Don't you understand? These enemies on the western front have nothing that can directly confront the mechs! If tonight we can gather as many squadrons as possible, advance westward, divide and encircle those bandits who don't have heavy weapons, and then annihilate them in one fell swoop, our tense situation will definitely be eased."

“But there’s something I find strange,” another major said. “After fighting all day, I’ve noticed that the enemy on the east and west sides are different in terms of equipment, clothing, and even language.”

"What? They even speak different languages?"

“Yes.” The major pulled out a tattered notebook. “I found this on the body of an otherworldly soldier on the Eastern Front. The pile of enemy documents we picked up at the landing site were in English. But why does the writing on this notebook seem like Russian to me?”

"ha?!--"

"Hearing a Siberian language in Berlin? That's a really lame joke."

"Alright, alright! We'll talk about these things later!" Colonel Kari brought everyone's attention back on track. "We were just talking about a concentrated westward advance, so let me ask you a question first: how much KMF do we have left?"

“There are about 35 operational units,” an officer pondered. “Should we gather them all on the west side and take a gamble?”

"Absolutely not! That's too risky!" another officer shouted. "The fighting in the east is critical; the enemy is still counterattacking. We can't possibly withdraw all the mechs from that life-or-death situation. Otherwise, all the supplies, the camp, and the entire vanguard will be wiped out!"

"With such a large defensive line to the east, so many enemies, and those dilapidated buildings that even Sunderland can't get into, we need to commit at least half of our forces to defensive operations. Otherwise, relying on our assault guns and armored vehicles? I don't think we'll still be standing here peacefully tomorrow morning..."

Everyone was extremely anxious. They all wanted to break the deadlock on the battlefield, but this predicament was like a shaky log bridge, leaving them all filled with worry…

……

"Hello! Your Excellency! The 11th District City Hall is calling!" came the call from the communications officer.

"what's up?"

"A portal will open in 5 minutes to transport a batch of supplies to us, including ammunition and water purifiers. Oh, and two helicopters too!"

"Huh? A helicopter? It arrived so quickly?"

"Ha ha ha! That makes things easier!" An officer turned to Colonel Kari. "Sir, what are your thoughts on these two new little birds?"

Amidst the exchange of glances, the colonel's brow finally relaxed.

"Now, let's consider our attack route..."

In the camp, a refreshing breeze began to caress the earth, which had been heated by the air, and the stuffy barracks gradually became as pleasant as springtime.

……

The moon quietly crept out from behind the Brandenburg Gate. Compared to the tranquil and free night sky not long ago, the moon unexpectedly felt terrified on this day.

Berlin, under its gaze, once again lost its deathly silence, replaced by another April filled with the smoke of war...

It was full of steel and gunpowder...

Every house bears the marks of merciless bullet holes and silent tears of blood...

Filled with courage and despair, hatred and sorrow...

Looking west across the Brandenburg Gate, the area has largely fallen under Britannian control.

Not far off, a new front line of fire will be established...

……

The cold moonlight shone on a dilapidated building, its walls weathered and cracked like honeycomb, the broken bricks scattered like a child's toppled block set. Even a homeless person might be reluctant to spend the night in such a precarious place.

However, this is a battlefield, and even a shell crater or a collapsed earthen wall could be the only lifeline that anyone in this place can rely on.

In the darkness, a faint light flickered from the broken wall of the building right next to the street—not the flames of a gunshot, but a small match.

Two soldiers wearing olive-green helmets squeezed together beside the match, bringing their cigarettes closer to the flame.

"Phew." One of them lit a cigarette, let out a long breath, and smoke gushed out of his mouth like a fountain.

“Karl, why are we so unlucky?” the soldier began to complain to the guy who was lighting a cigarette with him.

"First, I was unfortunately assigned to a unit stationed in this godforsaken place, and now I'm damn unfortunately caught in a firefight with a bunch of random enemies. With this kind of luck, I should go back and see if I can find a girl who's passed out inside a goal, and then drag her home..."

"You're more likely to pick up an old lady at best," the guy named Carl scoffed. "When have you ever had a chance with a beautiful woman, Tommy?"

Tommy angrily ripped off his helmet and threw it on the ground, where it clattered loudly.

"Damn it! I've run into something that requires so much luck, can't you think of anything good for me too?!"

"Fine! Let's start with you, you idiot, not knowing how to put a cigarette butt in the magazine!"

"Tommy! Carl!" A stern reprimand came from behind them. "When will you two learn to be quieter than a .30 machine gun?"

"Sorry, Sergeant!" The two immediately shut their incessant chatter and turned their gaze from the barrel of the M1919 machine gun in Tommy's hand, covered with ventilation holes, to the dark street not far away.

Before the two could remain quiet for long, the dark figure who had been scolding them stood up and walked towards a cannon that was also hidden in a building—a rather small anti-tank gun, about half a person's height, and it was difficult for us to discern its exact model.

"What, are you scared?"

"Sergeant, I don't want to die..." the recruit said, his voice trembling with tears.

"Put your hands down and take a deep breath..." The sergeant squatted down, gently patting his shoulder and coaxing him softly.

"Imagine a pack of stray dogs coming to your house to cause trouble. They'll just bark and scream, but you have a gun. They won't be able to bite you at all. You're the one in charge..."

With the sergeant's encouragement, the soldier gradually adjusted his breathing from sobbing, transforming from a sobbing kindergarten child into a patient with phlegm in his throat.

At that moment, an officer walked in.

"Sergeant Jonathan Campbell!"

The sergeant stood up and turned to look; a captain was staring at him.

"The engineers have almost finished reinforcing the stairwell upstairs. Send your men up to check on the situation."

"Yes, sir!" the sergeant said, turning to a soldier who had just woken up from a nap. "Pat, come up with me!"

The captain looked slightly puzzled.

"I told you to send your own men, not to go in person!"

Jonathan glanced at him and tapped the binoculars hanging around his neck.

"I just think it's too much trouble to take them off and give them to others..."

The two men crept up the stairwell, leaving the captain behind with a wry smile, shaking his head as he walked out of the building.

……

"Phew, the wind up here is definitely more comfortable than down here..." The sergeant lay on the ground of the top floor, staring through binoculars at the streets illuminated by flames in the distance—of course, the real top floor had long since disappeared in the gunfire.

“Sir…” Pat, who was lying beside him, nudged him a few times with his elbow. “Do you really think the ones we’re fighting are Soviets…?”

“Don’t ask me that,” Jonathan said, still staring into the distance without turning his head. “I don’t even know how Russian kids babble.”

"It's really strange..." the sergeant abruptly put down his binoculars, "Why haven't we seen a single T-34 all day?"

“So…” Pat muttered, “They’re all four or five-meter-tall dolls, even more ridiculous than jeeps, and those tanks don’t look like German-made things…”

"Ardennes Forest? No... When the Rhine was there? I didn't see it either..."

"Well, they can't run as fast as artillery shells, and they're not much sturdier than armored vehicles. Just shoot them down when the time comes..."

"Hey! Sergeant!" Pat suddenly crouched up and shouted, pointing straight up at the sky in the distance, "Look! What's that!"

"What the hell..." Jonathan raised his binoculars, and a scene he had never seen before came into view...

Two peculiar "birds," with short wings supporting small red and green lights, a glowing silver-white star on their tails, and a searchlight the size of an oil drum in their bellies, climbed straight up into the air and veered towards Jonathan's position!

"A plane without a propeller?!" Pat exclaimed. "Have you ever seen one of these, Sergeant?"