Arc of Fire

Chapter 74

Afterwards, calm persisted until seven in the evening, just as the daylight began to dim, when Monk Petro heard the sound of enemy reconnaissance planes again.

Five minutes later, everyone at the forward command post watched as the reconnaissance plane, trailing thick smoke, crashed to the ground.

"Divine Arrow is incredibly effective against low-flying aerial units," Wang Zhong exclaimed in admiration.

Popov: "Yes, but unfortunately, it's useless against high-altitude enemy aircraft."

Wang Zhong: "It's very difficult for the enemy to spot carefully disguised artillery positions through high-altitude reconnaissance."

He could say this mainly because, first, before crossing over, he had seen photographs taken by German high-altitude reconnaissance planes in war history, and second, he had confirmed the disguise of his own artillery positions through an overhead perspective.

At high altitude, it's very hard to spot these positions with normal vision.

Popov: "Let's hope so."

Wang Zhong looked at Popov, suddenly struck by a suspicion, and asked: "Are you lingering at the forward command post because you don't want to help Pavlov deal with that mountain of documents?"

Popov said seriously: "How could that be! I would never shirk my responsibilities! But many documents don't require my signature as the Bishop of the battle group."

Wang Zhong was about to speak while looking at Popov, when Vasily, who was guarding the walkie-talkie, suddenly started frantically flipping through a captured notebook.

Everyone's attention immediately shifted to him.

After some searching, Vasily reported: "The enemy's 223rd Armored Grenadier Regiment is camping tonight at Kalashnoye!"

Wang Zhong immediately located the village on the map: "Here, we've scouted it before. It's a large village with about 100 houses, completely deserted."

"Based on information gathered from locals in other villages, around nine in the evening, there's usually no wind, so the artillery fire effect will be better."

Yegorov picked up the phone but didn't immediately have the operator connect to the artillery positions; instead, he asked Wang Zhong: "How much ammunition should we use?"

Wang Zhong: "Three rounds per cannon. Twenty-four rounds should be enough to give the enemy a hard time. I don't know when we'll get the next batch of 203mm shells, so let's conserve them."

Yegorov then told the operator: "Connect to the artillery positions."

----

The 223rd Armored Grenadier Regiment had entered Kalashnoye, ten kilometers southwest of Loktov.

According to the latest aerial reconnaissance report, the nearest Ant Army unit was a regiment in the village of Nizhny to the northeast, where defensive positions had been spotted from the air.

Tomorrow, the 223rd Armored Grenadier Regiment would launch an attack on Nizhny village; once captured, they could encircle Loktov.

The 150 half-tracks in the 223rd Armored Grenadier Regiment's formation now packed Kalashnoye to the brim, to the point that the self-propelled mortar company attached to the regiment had to park on the threshing ground at the village entrance.

The threshing ground was also filled with trucks from the attached logistics company-since the 223rd Armored Grenadiers were infantry attached to an armored division, there were no mules or horses in their formation.

The eight Type IV tanks reinforced to the 223rd Regiment were lined up on the northeastern side of the village, with the tankers inspecting the running gear.

Meanwhile, after finishing weapon maintenance, the infantry gathered around bonfires, sharing canned food and captured sausages.

Someone had placed a radio on a gasoline barrel by the roadside, and the speaker blared the most popular Prossenian love song, 'Lili Marleen'-this was music broadcast to the entire army by the Prossenian military radio station.

This night seemed no different from the previous 13 nights since the 223rd Regiment had entered the Ante Empire's territory.

Suddenly, the sky was pierced by the screech of heavy artillery shells tearing through the air.

The Prossenians of this regiment, after all, were seasoned veterans; just by hearing the screech, they could roughly judge where it would land, so they dropped their mess tins full of meat soup and dove into any cover they could find.

The first shell landed, striking the church in the center of the village, causing the church bell tower to collapse from its base.

Shells continued to fall one after another, demolishing houses, blowing up vehicles, and flipping half-tracks over in the middle of the road.

After the first wave of shells had all landed, the entire village was engulfed in flames and the groans of the wounded.

The surviving Prossenians staggered to look up but didn't leave their cover.

About 30 seconds later, the second wave of whistling sounds came from the sky.

A truck exploded in a massive blast, its fuel tank erupting into an orange-red fireball that slowly rose, illuminating the night as if it were day.

The large pot used by the field cooks to stew soup was knocked over, and the scalding broth splashed onto nearby unlucky soldiers, eliciting hoarse screams of agony.

After the second wave of artillery fire passed, no Prossenian dared to look up, all waiting for the next round of shells to fall.

Someone prayed softly; at this moment, no one mentioned "meeting in Valhalla," which was supposed to be the most common response of honorable imperial soldiers facing death, according to Prossenian propaganda.

The third wave arrived.

The church finally collapsed completely, and the senior officers and staff at the regimental headquarters scrambled to escape.

A cow, left behind by the locals and now covered in flames, charged wildly down the street, trampling several unfortunate soldiers lying in the middle of the road.

After the third wave ended, the only sounds in the entire village were groans and the crackling of raging fires.

About a minute passed before the commander of the 223rd Armored Grenadiers, still shaken, climbed up, glanced at the collapsed church behind him, then at the burning half-tracks and scattered bodies on the street, his brow furrowing tightly.

"Count the casualties! Quickly! Also, notify division command immediately. We just reported our position, and the artillery fire came right after. The enemy must have cracked our code table! We need to change the codes ahead of schedule!"

Normally, Prossenian military radio call signs were changed every three days-a cumbersome process that required messengers to physically deliver the new call signs to each unit.

"Yes, sir!" the staff officer replied.

The commander looked at the devastated village and shouted: "Hurry and rescue the wounded! Put out the fires!"

----

Wang Zhong looked at his watch: "Judging by the time, the shells should have landed. I wonder how effective it was."

Kalashnoye was ten kilometers from Loktov, so even with Wang Zhong's external view, he couldn't see the effect of the artillery strike.

Yegorov reassured him: "Don't worry, this is 203mm heavy artillery. That regiment must have suffered heavy losses. Whether they can even move tomorrow is questionable."

"Let's hope so."

Just as Wang Zhong finished speaking, Vasily shouted: "Enemy communication! They're using plaintext! 'Our regiment just reported our position and was immediately hit by precise heavy artillery fire. The radio call signs must have been compromised. Request to change call signs ahead of schedule.' General, we hit them!"

"Good!" Wang Zhong clenched his right fist, as if brimming with youthful triumph.

Yegorov: "Now that the enemy armored division's attached infantry has suffered heavy losses, the pressure of urban meat grinder combat will be much lighter."

"That's a problem to consider tomorrow," Popov said. "Today's battle should be more or less over. We should let the soldiers, except for the sentries, take the chance to rest."

Vasily: "And clean their guns!"

Yegorov glanced at him and nodded: "Right, and clean their guns."

At that moment, Wang Zhong suddenly realized he was very hungry; earlier, his mind had been so focused that he hadn't noticed it.

As if on cue, the voice of an older nurse from the field cooking team came from outside: "Young men! Dinner's ready!"

"Let's go eat!" Wang Zhong said excitedly.

----

After eating, Wang Zhong, accompanied by Grigori, his guard, strolled around the position to aid digestion while also fulfilling his duty as a commander to inspect the posts.

After making a round, on the way back, they passed a factory building deployed with 72K anti-air cannons and heavy machine guns. Wang Zhong stopped in front of the southwest wall of the factory, looking at the dense bullet marks on it.

Just looking at the bullet marks, one could imagine how intense the firefight had been that afternoon.

Wang Zhong walked along the wall, reaching the corner, where he saw a group of young people crowded at the corner of the factory ahead, seemingly watching something.

Grigori stepped forward, intending to notify the young people that the commander had arrived, but Wang Zhong stopped him.

Then Wang Zhong tiptoed behind the young people and peeked along with them.

In the darkness of the night, someone was holding a bottle, and under the starlight, one could faintly see it was full of baby's breath flowers.

He handed the bottle of flowers to the girl in front of him: "Natalia, I found these at the base. They're as beautiful as you are!"

Wang Zhong remembered-this was the rookie who shared the same name as him, "Alexei." He had a crush on Natalia from the field laundry team.

Good grief, flirting on the front lines! This calls for some serious criticism!

So Wang Zhong leaned in a bit closer.

(End of Chapter)