Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

"Come on, comrade." Lemilia pulled out his flask, then looked back in the direction the gunfire had faded. "Relax, the enemy will have more severed arms than you have hair on their heads!"

Chapter 81, Section 128: A New World, A New Misunderstanding?

It was another gloomy and cold morning, with a biting wind blowing from Tokyo Bay and swirling over the streets of the Tokyo Concession.

Returning to the military camp that the American soldiers had toured two days ago—the headquarters of the Expeditionary Vanguard, or rather, the Tokyo Concession Armed Security Corps—there was a rustling sound inside the core office building.

Caronville brought his breakfast here, to his own office, and while chewing it, he put together the papers on his desk, in his drawers, and on his cabinet, as if he were tidying something up.

Just then, footsteps were heard in the hallway outside the room.

"Hmm?" The lieutenant colonel looked up at the sound and saw a female officer wearing glasses standing there.

"Major Leffer?"

"Hmph?" The major tilted his head. "Was it really necessary to rush here?"

"I'm used to it, I'm used to it." The lieutenant colonel raised his hand. "Oh, what's that you're holding?"

"The report, which includes the newly assigned KMF mechs, some infantry fighting vehicles and assault guns, as well as spare guns, was only handed to me when the sun came up today."

“Okay, put it there.” He pointed to an empty space on the bookshelf. “I’ll look at it later. I have some urgent things to take care of today.”

"what's up?"

“Have you forgotten? Yesterday, Duke Sasler gave me orders to personally lead a team today to escort those ‘Germans’ to a farm near Kashi, north of Tokyo, for reporting.”

"Ah? I remember now, we were escorting them to deliver manpower to the farm that might be needed later?"

"Yes, it's rare to see the Duke in such a hurry. It seems that since the 'Black Rebellion,' Area 11 needs fresh laborers in every aspect..."

"Yeah, it's been a year already..."

"And that's not all. The reconstruction work in the concession still needs more manpower for some of the less-than-ideal parts. That tower? Oh, the Tower of Babel, there are still many floors whose decoration work is not finished yet, isn't there?"

"I'm really worried about whether we have enough heads for these German-speaking otherworldly beings."

"Whether it's enough or not is another matter. First of all, Major, you need to get into the habit of calling them '45G people' as soon as possible."

"Yes, area 45, G stands for Germany."

"Then those Americans, temporarily called 'Sector 45A', are from the Soviet Union. The higher-ups haven't decided yet whether to call them 45R or 45S."

"Is this funny, Lieutenant Colonel?" Lefel chuckled, then quickly stopped.

"Speaking of which, just as I was entering and leaving the military camp, I saw those five guys, oh, from Sector 45A. What were they doing?"

"Uh, those five guys who flirted with you with sweet talk before? They..."

……

Half an hour later, on a street in the Tokyo Concession that was slowly warming up, five people dressed in white, each with a yellow iron six-pointed star on their chest, walked in a line along the clean sidewalk. To the right of the white-clad man at the front, a black-clad soldier holding an assault rifle stood close by.

"Cheer up, you five," the man in black said to someone behind him.

His uniform was no different from that of an ordinary Britannian infantryman, except that he wore a blue armband on his left sleeve, which featured the insignia of the Britannian police—all of which indicated that this soldier was serving the police station in the Tokyo Concession.

"Lieutenant Colonel Caronville's orders are that for the next three days, I will be responsible for showing you around the streets you will be patrolling. Observe your surroundings carefully, remember how to get there, and in a few days you will be carrying out these patrol duties on your own."

“Yes, I understand, Sergeant,” Davis, the leader, replied.

"Hey, the sergeant's talking, give him a reply!" Seeing no response from behind, he quickly turned around and scolded him.

“Ah, yes, yes, yes.” The other four people, Taylor, Garcia, Philip, and Clark, all echoed like lapdogs.

The sergeant pursed his lips, thought for a moment, and after all, he had come all the way with Lieutenant Colonel Caronville. He wasn't too bothered by the lax attitude of these prisoners who had only recently entered the camp, as it was commonplace. As long as they stayed behind him, even if they whispered to each other a little, nothing serious would happen.

"Sigh..." Davis looked around, then at the six of them walking in completely out of sync, showing no sign of getting back on track. He didn't bother with any more commands and just let them walk like this.

However, the scenery around them was indeed quite nice. Davis only knew that he and Taylor had never lived in a big city. It didn't matter whether the other three had experienced it or not. What he should enjoy now was to feast his eyes on the scenery.

Davis was born in Portalis, New Mexico, a small city with a population of just over 5,000 at the time. To him, the Tokyo Concession was full of novelties: wide streets and highways, a constant flow of cars, scattered ten-story buildings, modern streetlights and bus stop signs, and huge panels pointing to the sky. Of course, he had no idea that they were called solar panels, something that university professors were researching during World War II.

Everything you learn from books and pictures, or from hearsay, is difficult to truly grasp. But when you actually stand here, in this novel and bustling world you've never been before, you can't help but feel a childlike excitement.

Looking at the guys behind him, Tyler looked around at the houses that looked delicious to him like a starving ghost reincarnated. Garcia and Philip's eyes were not much different from his own. Only Clark's eyes were not so longing, because he knew that this kid had been to places like New York, Chicago and Detroit.

Davis took a deep breath, breathing in the gentle breeze, and he was now eager to know just how beautiful these houses were.

The sky is beautiful.

The city is beautiful.

The people walking on the street are also full of energy.

But no one knew that something terrible was about to happen...

……

"Okay, when we get to this intersection, we'll turn this way."

The sergeant in black continued leading the five men across an intersection, pointing to a simple map in Davis's hand as he spoke—they had been careful to create this subway system with only main streets for the Americans to use, in case they planned an escape route for them.

The five soldiers nodded, huddled together, and continued marching forward.

On the street ahead, there was a shop that had just opened. The shop owner, a Britannian citizen, was standing at the door, arrogantly greeting his employees.

"Hey, hey, hey! You guys! How many boxes are left inside? Why aren't you moving them out? What are you dawdling about?"

"Okay, okay!"

As soon as he finished speaking, two employees slowly walked out of the shop carrying a wooden box each and placed it next to the shop owner.

The six patrolmen naturally saw them as well, and squeezed past them.

But, suddenly, at this very moment...

"Here they come! Here they come!—"

A third figure suddenly darted out of the shop without warning. No one except the shop owner and the clerk knew there was a fourth person in the shop. Taylor, standing on the far right, was caught in the crossfire; the clerk, clutching a wooden crate, bumped into him.

"Hey! Are you blind?! You son of a bitch!" Taylor yelled angrily at the shop assistant.

“Gomen (Japanese for 'sorry')…” The shop assistant apologized nervously and walked away. Taylor wasn’t injured, so he was only concerned about the man making a sound and didn’t pay much attention to what he said.

But that "gomen" made Davis slowly stop in his tracks.

"Hmm?" Philip was the first to notice that something was wrong with Davis.

“Gomen…” Davis continued to mutter this sentence.

"What are you thinking about, bro?" Garcia pressed, looking at him deep in thought.

“Gome… Huh?!” Davis suddenly raised his head and looked in the direction the shop assistant who bumped into Taylor had gone.

……

"This sounds like... Japanese?"

“Wha…What?!” This very subtle “Jap anese” acted like a stimulant, piercing Taylor’s brain.

“Japs?!” Taylor shouted out the word that had been lingering in his mind for a long time, glaring at the shop assistant.

The sergeant noticed that the five of them had stopped. He turned around and saw the other four staring at Taylor with expressions of astonishment and disbelief.

"You damned bastard!"

Taylor suddenly shouted, grabbed a pole more than a meter long from the roadside, and ran towards the shop assistant who had bumped into him, right in front of everyone.

"Oh no!" Davis exclaimed, realizing the danger. "Quick! Stop Taylor!"

It was too late! The four of them had just taken a step when Taylor launched a flying kick at the backside of the "Japanese devil" he had identified.

"Ouch!" Of course, the shop assistant didn't notice the sneak attack and was kicked by Taylor like a rice sack onto the boxes that had just been stacked.

The box fell over and hit him, but that wasn't the end of it. Taylor immediately pulled him out again and swung a bamboo pole at his head!

"I'll fucking kill you today, you motherfucking bastard!"

Taylor unleashed a flurry of punches, kicks, and dog-beating techniques on the shop assistants, terrifying not only the shop owner and two other employees but also drawing the attention of everyone on the street with his angry shouts and sounds of violence. Everyone had seen thugs bully the weak, but this scene, filled with revenge and hatred, was truly astonishing.

The clerk clutched his head, and Taylor's punches and kicks became even more forceful. Just as he was about to grab a glass bottle from the ground and smash it over the clerk's head, two arms pulled him away.

"Fuck you! Let me go!" Tyler was pulled aside by Garcia and Philip, but that was hardly enough to quell his anger. He was held by the arms and jumped around like a mad dog, throwing glass bottles haphazardly, which shattered on the ground just two steps away from the clerk.

The shop assistant was like a frightened lamb, clutching the bleeding wound and bruises on his head, huddled among the messy boxes, watching the "thugs" being pulled away, completely lacking the courage to stand up and speak again.

The shop owner couldn't say anything, and could only watch as the soldier holding an assault rifle slowly approached the man in white who had hit him, waiting for the outcome of the matter.

……

"What's going on! Damn it!"

"Report to Sergeant!" Davis said, looking at Taylor, who was still extremely agitated as she was being supported. "It seems that the clerk did something to offend Taylor."

"Never mind me, you son of a bitch!" Taylor started cursing at the soldiers. "I'm not done with this son of a bitch until I smash his head in!"

As he spoke, Taylor struggled a few more times, but thankfully, he couldn't break free from Philip and Garcia's grasp.

"Calm down, you son of a bitch!" Davis seemed to have lost his temper and rushed up to Taylor, starting a verbal battle with him.

"Pah!" Taylor spat in his face. "Get lost! My business is none of your concern!"

"Shut up! Did you hear me!" Davis retorted without backing down, pressing his face right up to Taylor's nose. "If you make another sound, you're dead right here today!"

"So what if I die! I'm not afraid of you today!"

"Say that again, you fucking idiot?"

"So what if I said that? You motherfucking piece of trash..."

"Ah!" Before Taylor could finish yelling, Davis immediately punched him in the face, followed by a few swift slaps, and finally grabbed his right arm and slammed his knee into his stomach, which finally brought the mad dog to his knees.

"This... alright, alright..." The sergeant in black shook his head helplessly, pulled everyone apart, and acted as a peacemaker in a half-dazed state.

"Listen up, although I've never seen a family like yours fighting like this before, I don't want you to start fighting again. Otherwise, I'll really take the safety off the bolt, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, listen up, now..." The sergeant took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Everyone stand here and don't move. I'm going to talk to the shopkeeper."

The shop owner was instructing two other people to wipe the bloodstains from the injured shop assistant with a towel when he saw the soldiers in black arrive. He immediately turned around, still shaken, waiting for the soldier's words.

"Are you guys okay?"

"It's alright, it's alright." The shopkeeper's voice trembled violently. "There were no fragile items in that box."

"Alright then, seeing how badly your employee is injured, I'll ask my supervisor later. If there are any medical expenses, I'll try to reimburse them for you."

"Really? That's wonderful, thank you, thank you."

"polite."

The sergeant looked up at the shop's address, wrote it down with a pen and paper, and then left with five soldiers.

"What should we do with this guy who's been crippled? Should we wait until he's breathing again?" Philip asked the sergeant.

"You caused this mess, so you're responsible. The patrol route can't be interrupted. You guys figure something out about this guy!"

Left with no other option, Davis gave Philip and Garcia a look, instructing them to each carry one of Taylor's arms, like saddlebags, and walk away with the sergeant.

“Alright, now, tell me what just happened, Private Davis…”

Section 129, Chapter Eighty-Two: Deception

It was 4 p.m. In the office building of the Tokyo Concession Armed Security Corps, a soldier wearing a black combat uniform and a blue armband on his left arm took off his helmet and walked toward an office.

"Yes, this is it." He knocked on the door.

"Please come in." It was a woman's voice that came from inside.

“Okay…” The soldier pushed open the door and went in. Lieutenant Colonel Caronville, who should have been there, was not there. Only his adjutant, Major Leffer, was sitting in his seat.

"Huh? Major?" The soldier was a little confused. "The lieutenant colonel hasn't returned yet?"

"The lieutenant colonel is still busy with the various things related to the 'new workforce.' Is there anything you can't tell me, kid?" The major looked at him with a rather friendly gaze.

"Ah, of course, it's about the situation of those five soldiers from Sector 45A who were ordered by the lieutenant colonel to lead a patrol today. I'm returning to report now."

"Oh?" The major's gaze immediately turned stern. "Is there some unexpected situation?"