Arc of Fire

Chapter 637: Chapter 79: The Giant Wave

December 15, Yarvik, the Headquarters of the Tenth Group Army of Prosen.

Admiral Boke, Commander of the Tenth Group Army, looked at the latest special combat situation bulletin issued by High Command with furrowed brows.

Usually, the High Command distributes a minor intelligence summary every ten days, which contains information not directly related to the current situation on the battlefield.

However, today was the 15th, five days before the next minor intelligence distribution was due, yet the report had already arrived.

It contained only one piece of information: Rocossov had been promoted to General, and he might have received the power to lead the entire Antean forces along the Valdai Hills River. His Abawahan Front Army might already exceed one million troops.

"Does this sort of thing really require a special bulletin?” Admiral Boke tossed the telegram onto the table, “In June, when I was matched against Rocossov, he was still a Vice Admiral, and now he’s already a General.”

The operational map was updated four times a day, the most recent update being at five o’clock this morning.

On the map, the troops of the B Army Group were in complete disarray—at least, that’s how it appeared on the map east of Yarvik.

An Armored Army from the Fourth Armored Army Group was reassigned to the Sixth Army Group, the elite Sixteenth Armored Grenadier Division was placed on the plains between the AB Army Groups to perform patrol duties, leaving behind only a depleted Armored Army.

Later, this Armored Army was also transferred to the Group Army being formed by Xiplin for breakthrough operations. Now, the Fourth Armored Army Group Headquarters had only one Armored Division left, deployed behind Admiral Boke’s Tenth Group Army as a reserve force.

Marshal Geron’s Second Group Army, which the Group Commander also led, had many units pulled to rescue the Sixth Army Group. The remaining forces were deployed along the river for defense but were routed by the Antean forces that crossed the river for attack. Now, the entire Army Group was in a state of total collapse.

The First and Second Group Armies of Moravia were completely scattered, unable to contact their command authorities, whether it was the Corps Command or the subordinate army and division headquarters. They were as if they had vanished.

Rocossov had devoured five hundred thousand troops, and now his army of a million was bearing down on another five hundred thousand disorganized troops.@@novelbin@@

On the map, Rocossov’s Abawahan Front Army was pursuing the remnants like a sheepdog herding sheep towards the Suhayaweili River.

The good news was that the Suhayaweili River had frozen over, allowing the main body of the battered troops to cross easily.

The bad news was Rocossov’s army of a million could also cross with ease.

The Chief of Staff of the Tenth Group Army looked deeply worried, “In June, Rocossov had only a hundred thousand men. Even adding the forces that were replenished later, he had no more than three hundred thousand. Now he is coming at us with over a million, and we haven’t even finished replacing our losses from June and July.” ɌÀ𝐍ỗВΕš

This was mainly because the training for Prosen recruits was lengthy, requiring six months even for basic infantry to ensure their skills were up to standard before they were sent to units as replacements.

Admiral Boke, “Don’t panic, we have fortifications this time. Up until now, the Anteans haven’t been particularly successful in storming fortifications; they’ve been attacking the line of the Central Army Group for many days without breaking through.”

The Chief of Staff sighed, “We can only trust the fortifications we’ve built over the past few months.”

—-

Wang Zhong, “Why did you send my new tanks to Novorossk?”

Pavlov, “Because that’s the closest station to Yarvik that is still under our control.”

Yarvik had a railway coming from Yeburg, and naturally, the Prosen-controlled part was near Yarvik.

Pavlov, “Once we regain control of the railway, the train carrying your tanks can depart and move forward, approaching Yarvik as we advance. By the way, controlling the railway first could significantly reduce our supply pressure, and after that, most of our supply needs can be met by rail. Then our two million laborers can take their money and go home. I mean, most of them; we will need some middle-aged strong labor to unload the trains.”

Wang Zhong, “Hmm, your plan makes sense, I approve!”

"I’ve already started executing it because I knew you wouldn’t oppose,” Pavlov added.

Vasily, “After six months, you two still flirt like this, don’t you?”

Pavlov glanced at Vasily, “Commander, you’re young and handsome, but look at me with several kids, do you think it’s appropriate to say that?”

Popov, “Vasily, it seems you want to test your manure shoveling technique yourself.”

Vasily, “I am currently in command of a crucial deception operation, making fake corpses. Shoveling manure would delay progress.”

Wang Zhong, “What did you learn at the Suvorov Military Academy?”

"Staff work, a bit of command. Also map exercises, mostly map exercises,” Vasily spread his hands, “which are practically no help with my current task.”

Popov looked towards Wang Zhong, “What do you think, Suvorov Military Academy’s Dean Davarish?”

Wang Zhong, “Still, assign him to manure duty, but he can start after the deception task is complete.”

—-

Meanwhile, Private Second Class Hans of the Second Battalion of the 411th Regiment of the 51st Infantry Division of Prosen’s 11th Infantry Army felt that he could no longer keep walking.

The moment he had this thought, his legs gave way, and he started to fall, but the sergeant beside him grabbed him.

"Hang in there, kid,” the sergeant said with a thick Baden accent, “If you go down here, you’ll never get up again! Think about your wife, your children!”

"I’m only eighteen,” the private said.

Sergeant: “So what if you’re eighteen? You should be able to get married at eighteen. You didn’t get married before heading to the battlefield? That’s not good, not good at all.”

Private Second Class: “I’m too tired to talk

"When it’s times like these, that’s when you should talk, to forget the exhaustion,” the sergeant said. “You have a girl you like, right? What if she likes you too, and then you just die in a foreign land? For her

Private Second Class: “It’s because I might die in a foreign land that I can’t tell her.”

"I see, that makes sense,” the sergeant replied, looking ahead with unfocused eyes, not knowing what he was seeing.

Suddenly, he said, “Do you know? We might have to keep retreating like this in the future, retreating until we’re back within the Empire’s borders. Then, to survive, the women will keep selling their bodies over and over, just like the women in the countries we’ve occupied.

"Do you know, in the lowlands, it only takes a box of eggs to sleep with a woman. Such things will happen someday within the Empire, to the Empire’s women, to your girl.

"After you die, she won’t have it easy either. We’ve been blinded by our previous victories and have already made grave mistakes.”

The private second class was silent, clenching his teeth tightly.

Then, someone yelled from behind: “The enemy is coming, the enemy cavalry is coming!”

The sergeant immediately slapped the private second class’s back: “Quick, find cover and hide, the cavalry’s saber can’t chop well if you’re crouched next to cover!”

The private second class looked around the snowy plains in confusion: “Where is there any cover?!”

The sergeant was stumped as well.

Just a few days ago, they still had trucks to use as cover.

But these days, the trucks had either been bombed or had run out of fuel and were discarded, leaving the entire infantry division without any vehicles, and they were now in the middle of nowhere.

As far as the eye could see, there were only snowy plains, and even the private second class, in his first battle, could recognize the rolling white dust clouds in the distance.

It was the enemy cavalry raising snow as they charged across the plains.

The order came through: “Hunker down on the spot and organize fire!”

The sergeant immediately ran to the side of the squad’s machine gunner: “I’ll serve as your gun mount; don’t put it in the snow—then you can’t see anything. Mount it on my back.”

Saying this, he crouched down and the machine gunner quickly set up the gun on his back.

He also clasped the two legs of the machine gun over his shoulders to keep it steady.

Machine Gunner: “Don’t raise your head, sergeant, or it’ll be smashed to pieces!”

"Just fire your machine gun! At most, I’ll singe my hair with the muzzle flash!”

As his words fell, a small detachment of cavalry appeared in their field of vision, with a flag-bearer following the leader, holding a retro triangular flag—a standard complement of the flintlock gun era cavalry, even featuring such triangular flags on each cavalryman’s lance.

The next moment, rows of cavalry appeared.

All the cavalry were draped in black cloaks, looking like dark waves sweeping across the snow-covered plains.

Seeing this spectacle, the private second class started shaking and his breathing quickened.

The cavalry drew their sabers, the shiny blades reflecting the sunlight like so many light swords, and they began to shout, “Hurrah!”

The Prosens side replied with machine gun fire. The 51st Infantry Division had just been equipped with the latest machine guns, which had an extremely rapid rate of fire and sounded like tearing fabric when firing, hence they were nicknamed tearing machines.

The leading cavalrymen were knocked down, falling from their horses, and because of the impact, they tumbled on the snowy ground.

The private second class fired frantically, but from the third shot onward, he forgot to pull the trigger; after each bolt action, he immediately continued with another bolt action, ejecting the unfired bullets from the chamber.

And so, he “fired” through an entire magazine.

The enemy had already charged to the front.

Facing the glint of the saber, the private second class instinctively dodged, only to slam into the chest of a military horse, and was sent flying.

As he landed, cushioned by the snow, he didn’t feel pain, but then a warhorse’s hoof struck his stomach.

A mouthful of blood sprayed out, and he instinctively knew his end was near.

In the last moments of life, only the still-resounding machine gun provided a slight comfort.

The next instant, a grenade exploded, and the machine gun fell silent.

With the machine gun noise gone, previously masked sounds crept into his ears.

The sound of saber slicing off skulls, pleas for mercy, crying.

Suddenly, the private second class heard someone shouting, “Mom!”

He also used his last bit of strength to cry out, “Mom!”