Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

……

……

"Sergeant..."

Pat huddled under the outer wall of the rooftop, trying to keep his rifle hidden under the collapsed wall—even though the birds paid him absolutely no attention.

What is he waiting for?

Inside the building, there was another soldier huddled against the outer wall. But he wasn't on the same floor as Pat; he was downstairs from Pat—in the crumbling ruins the birds were watching. Jonathan was curled up like an infant under a broken window, like a giant pebble lying there.

The searchlight's blinding gaze was cast onto the messy ground before him, like a pool of white paint. If children lay here, they would surely be unable to resist their curiosity and leave their dark handprints on it.

However, the sergeant whose life hung by a thread was certainly not a child—there were no more innocent children in this city where the flames of war had reignited, and he certainly didn't want to create any dark ripples in the pool.

It seemed as if birds were hovering above Jonathan, waiting for him to walk right into their trap, and the sergeant certainly didn't want to play hide-and-seek with him here forever. The roar of the jet engines did nothing to drown out the gunfire from all directions; new men in black could come knocking at any moment.

But there wasn't a trace of fear on his face; instead, he curled up the corners of his mouth, as if he were enjoying the sunbathing under what looked like a giant umbrella.

He casually picked up what looked like a pepper shaker from his person, as if he were picking up a bottle of fresh drink from the side—but this bottle had a pull tab on it; yes, it was a smoke grenade.

The bird's gaze seemed still fixed on his head, so Jonathan naturally didn't dare to stretch out too comfortably. He held a smoke grenade in his right hand, his elbow resting on the ground to his right, as if playing with darts, his eyes aiming at the farthest corner of the wall—the place where the outer wall, the ground, and another wall met.

With a relaxed laugh, the smoke grenade flew out of his hand like a ball, bouncing and scraping against the broken wall before finally settling steadily in the corner.

……

Sitting in the helicopter, Hormel's gaze grew increasingly unfocused, not from lingering fear. Normally, he should be engrossed in dreams somewhere in bed right now.

At this point, he no longer wanted to find that fleeting figure and turn him into dust with another burst of bullets. Instead, he hoped that someone would sing him a lullaby or shoot him into a deep sleep so that he would never wake up again.

This is not an exaggeration at all, especially for a soldier who is physically and mentally exhausted.

Just as he involuntarily closed one eye, as if a giant pot had exploded, a muffled sound came from the very edge of the building, accompanied by a hazy cloud of smoke that gushed out from under the window like a fountain!

"Damn bug!" As if electrocuted, Hommel's eyes widened. "Found you!"

The blinding searchlight, the gleaming chains of bullets, and Hommel's bloodshot eyes suddenly converged like a school of fish that had been separated and reunited. Bullets poured from the muzzle, heading towards the gushing fountain of smoke he had been longing to see. He didn't hesitate any longer; he had had enough!

"He's on the left!" Suddenly, the person in front shouted, "You've got the wrong spot! He tricked you!"

To the right, the leftmost window of the building had become a smokehouse riddled with holes, while on the other side, a figure wearing a helmet had stood up and was quickly running through the messy furniture and concrete pillars, heading deeper into the building.

"Don't even think about running away, you little mouse!"

Homer frantically turned the searchlight and gun barrel around again, bullets tearing through everything in the building, broken wooden planks and shattered stones flying like dandelions in a strong wind. But none of this calmed him down; all he could see was the figure still running.

"Wait a minute!" His companion's shout came from the front again, and Hommel seemed to have noticed something as well.

"There is enemy light firepower on the left side of the rooftop directly ahead!"

……

The searchlight left a huge, bright circular spot on the building. Just before the shouts rang out, without warning, an even more dazzling white lightning bolt burst from the spot—someone had broken the glass cover of the searchlight head!

Yes, this was Pat and the sergeant's little plan—the venomous bullets continued to relentlessly pursue the running Jonathan, paying no heed to the real snake catcher lurking nearby.

……

Pat leaned against the brickwork, the cool Springfield sniper rifle in his hand finally unleashing its own sharp whistle. Bullets hurtled through the air, piercing the fragile glass dome like sharp nails. A small click of the bolt being pulled, followed by a second, then a third! The cracks in the glass dome grew larger and larger, like a swarm of ants emerging from a nest!

The fourth bullet!

Finally, a flash of light, like a shooting star streaking across the sky, was followed by the distinctive sound of glass shattering.

Next, the bright spots that had just been reflected on the building vanished in an instant. The building, which was so close at hand, was like a stage taking its final bow, no longer adorned with lights. Sparks of electricity, like petals, fell from the searchlight like a waterfall, lying quietly on the ground, followed by a few more meaningless flashes.

The street has once again become a bottle of quiet black ink.

You've all experienced the feeling of suddenly turning off all the lights in a brightly lit room in the middle of the night, right?

Aside from profanity, there's probably no more concise way to describe this sudden change. But that's not the key point; what's most memorable is seeing stars in my eyes.

……

"Damn it!"

Closing your eyes won't provide much immediate relief from these colorful spots—after all, it's a process of going from white to black and back to black.

……

"Never mind! Fire all the bullets!"

Are you confident?

……

Homer no longer frantically pressed buttons in one spot like before. Instead, his hand moved with a rhythmic sway, sending trains of tracer rounds hurtling straight toward the pile of rubble on the rooftop, sparking brilliant flashes. The machine gun seemed to have become a probe, inching its way into the unknown darkness in the limited light provided by the tracer rounds.

"It looks like he ran away..." After his initial impulse, he reluctantly accepted the fact.

…………

What is the green-hatted person on the other side doing?

Jonathan tumbled and scrambled down the stairwell, landing not far from the group of soldiers hiding behind the wall.

"Boss! Are you alright?" Everyone asked the guy who had rolled on the ground with concern, but no one dared to get up and take a step forward.

"Everyone! Drop all heavy weapons! This place is no longer defensible, prepare to retreat south!"

“But… Boss, the captain didn’t give the order to retreat…”

Jonathan did not answer; it seemed that the roaring helicopter outside the building was responding instead—though it had lost its bright eyes, its lightning-fast claws were still frantically tearing at the bricks and concrete.

"The captain wants us to fight something we've never seen before without any cover?"

"Everyone! Move out immediately!"

“Sergeant Frege! You take care of your men! I’m bringing my own…”

"Hey... wait a minute, Sergeant, where did Pat go?"

"Hey!"

"Sergeant!" As everyone turned around, Pat shouted from inside the hallway, "Left! That left path! Enemies are coming!"

……

"Calling Eurasian Falcon, this is Lancer Squadron. We are approaching you from the highway to the northwest of our position. Please provide us with aerial reconnaissance and cover. Over."

"Falcon received! Enemy infantry are inside the building at the intersection ahead! Prepare for battle!"

"OK, we are ready for battle and can begin artillery fire. Please designate targets. Over!"

Communication ends.

"Homer, our searchlights are broken, what do we do now?"

"Change our hovering position so they can see us first..."

……

"Everyone evacuate immediately! Head south! Quickly!"

Like a cartload of barrels rolling down a hillside, the green-hatted men, barely managing to stand up with their guns, rushed down the stairs without stopping. The army wasn't a mob; the ranks were orderly, no one pushed or shoved, no one shouted. Perhaps they had been hiding behind the wall, too afraid to make a sound, and had been frightened by the strange bird.

"Everyone hurry, Pat and I will cover the rear... Hey Pat! What are you doing!"

"I'll go see if they've spotted us."

"Don't be so reckless! Come back quickly!"

Before the words were finished, the birds, which had been quiet for a long time, suddenly started shrieking again. It was the same train of tracer bullets that had been striking the exterior wall of the building!

……

……

"Eagle Falcon calling Lancer Squadron, we are using high-contrast ammunition belts to suppress the building, immediately provide fire support to the impact point!"

"Received, target location confirmed. Thank you for the instructions. Over."

……

"All heavy firepower units, listen up! Precision strike order! Target bearing 325, distance 400, prepare to fire!"

"Number 047 is ready!"

"Number 048 is ready!"

"Fire!—"

……

"Sergeant!"

"Pat!"

The echoes still reverberated in the building, but the heavy, dull thuds and the whistling of shells could no longer be ignored...

"Artillery fire coming!—"

Two heavy shells struck the crumbling building like divine retribution, the shockwaves sweeping through every room and staircase like a tsunami. The clumsy, green-hatted men collapsed like dominoes in the concrete maze, the scorching flames and deafening roars like a giant hand, gripping them tightly together like sand.

……

“Karl?...Tommy?...”

Jonathan, covered in dust and dirt, adjusted his helmet and struggled to his feet from the corner.

Inside the room, shouts rose and fell. Fallen soldiers, flying guns and helmets, and shattered cement blocks were scattered everywhere, like a tattered deck of cards strewn haphazardly on the floor.

Not far away, the ground, exterior walls, and concrete pillars had all been reduced to ashes in the heatwave. All that remained was a bitten layer of pastry. Before you knew it, several more precarious pieces of the pastry broke off and fell into the dust, disappearing without a trace.

"Check for casualties! Everyone, come over here!"

Turning around, the green hats that had been struggling to get up before began to be neatly arranged again.

Some limped, carrying their guns, staggering towards a place out of the sergeant's sight; others seemed unharmed, hurriedly picking up the weapons and equipment scattered on the ground; still others lay unconscious on the ground, several men surrounding them, examining them from head to toe. A moment later, some carried him on their backs, swaying as they walked away, while others sighed, patted his head, and walked off.

"Boss!"

"Are you alright, Carl? Tommy, what happened to you?"

“I’m fine, Sergeant,” Carl replied. “Tommy, he hurt his leg with a rock and looks like he’s having some trouble moving around. I’m supporting him.”

Jonathan's eyes swept over them, and as he turned away, he seemed to kick something. Looking down, he saw a helmet with a broken strap at his feet.

Could it be that……

"Pat!" the sergeant suddenly shouted excitedly, looking around.

“Sergeant…” A pained voice came from under a broken concrete slab.

"Pat!" Jonathan and Carl responded and went to help. Tommy seemed to disregard his leg injury and limped after them—even though he probably knew he couldn't be of much help.

The two of them finally managed to push aside the heavy concrete slab, and there lay Pat lying underneath, panting in pain.

"Bill!" Jonathan turned and shouted to a passing soldier carrying a bunch of guns. "Quick! Drag this kid out here!"

“Sergeant…” Pat forced open his blurry eyes, “I’m sorry…”

"Listen, I'll have them carry you back to where we belong on a stretcher right now, understand?"

"I can't take it anymore... I..." Pat's pupils began to lose their light.

Snapped! ——

"Don't close your eyes!" Jonathan slapped Pat across the face. "Wake up!"

“Tommy!” Jonathan turned to the lame man. “I’m asking you, do you have trouble walking on your own now?”

"Uh... um..." Tommy made a face—this wasn't his usual amateur performance, but rather a result of pain. "Ah, as long as you don't make me hold that metal lump, it'll be fine."

Jonathan glanced around and said, "Carl, give him your carbine, with all the bullets in it."

"Hey! Boss!" Tommy looked like he was about to break down. "Don't I know I'm a wounded soldier?!"

"But I know even better that you don't want to be left with only a pistol, right? If you think the BAR, Garland, or Thompson are lighter and easier, go ahead and trade with someone else!"

The sergeant ignored Tommy—he was now like a deflated balloon, heading straight for the soldier who had been summoned.

"Bill, go down and see if there are any more stretchers. Also, tell the rest of our class to go ahead. I'll stay here with you."

……

On the street outside the building, the black steel monster and the wary men in black slowly approached.