Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 760: Chapter 17: The Autumn Cannonade

September 5, 0400 hours, the West Bank of the Dibo River, Position of Prosen’s Sixteenth Infantry Division.

Sergeant Andreas observed the Antean position across the river through a pair of captured binoculars.

“Sergeant!” a youthful voice came from behind, “I’ve just oiled the machine gun!”

Andreas turned around and saw the new recruit’s youthful face.

Private Malamon was still a child, a real child.

More than a year ago, when Andreas first joined the unit, he wasn’t as young. He had already served more than half a year of national labor, building the West Wall in Carolingian. After finishing labor service, he underwent six months of new recruit training. By the time he arrived at the unit, he was already 21, an adult.

But Private Malamon was only eighteen this year, his face still bearing the marks of youth.

Andreas even suspected he had lied about his age, that he was actually just a seventeen-year-old brat.

“Sergeant?” Malamon whispered.

Andreas replied, “I see, good job cleaning.”

Malamon smiled, “Thank you for the compliment.”

Andreas felt a bit uncomfortable; the new recruits in his batch had all served in the Labor Camp for more than six months and trained for another half a year. They were already full of curse words, like “real soldiers.”

“Malamon, cut out the formal language, don’t be so polite. On the battlefield, Antean bullets won’t spare you because you’re polite.”

“Sorry, Sergeant.”

Andreas sighed and continued to observe the opposite bank.

Malamon asked anxiously, “This morning, I heard that the Anteans might attack today. Does the Sergeant think they’ll attack today as well?”

“I don’t know. Predicting when the enemy will attack is for the generals to figure out. What we can do is try to survive as best as possible when the Anteans do attack.”

“What? Survive? Isn’t it about defeating the attacking Anteans?”

Andreas silently put down the binoculars and took out a cigarette to put in his mouth.

Malamon immediately took out a match and struck it to light Andreas’ cigarette.

Andreas took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled. Smoke billowed from his nose like a little train.

“Is this what they taught you in the recruit camp?”

Malamon replied, “Yes, the propaganda department said the Anteans are bleeding out, even sending women and children to fight. We’ll soon win the victory.”

Andreas took another puff, “Then, on your way here, did you encounter any air raids, see any dead bodies?”

Malamon’s expression darkened, “Of course. When we got off at Bogdanovka, we saw the logistics troops cleaning up the debris left by the Antean Air Force’s bombing, with many bodies lined up beside the tracks.

“The Lieutenant in the replenishment camp said it was an exception.”

Andreas asked, “How many times have the Anteans shelled since you arrived at the front?”

Malamon replied, “Every day.”

“Then what makes you think they don’t bomb the stations every day?”

Malamon pondered, “They have… That many shells and bombs?”

“They do. Even if the Anteans can’t produce them themselves, the Federation will supply them. Don’t believe me? Take a close look at those shell fragments. Some even have the Angsa Language of the Federation on them.”

Saying this, Andreas spat the cigarette butt to the ground and stamped it out with his foot, then checked his watch.

“Damn, the Anteans haven’t started shelling on time today.”

Malamon asked, “What does that mean? Has the enemy run out of shells?”

“No, it means the enemy is coordinating the artillery of the entire Front Army. They’re waiting for the top brass of the Front Army to order the bombardment.” Andreas grabbed Malamon’s shoulder, “Let’s go, into the bomb shelter!”

As the two men ran through the trenches, they encountered many veterans also rushing to the bomb shelters.

Master Sergeant Kosolek was among them, escorting two new recruits.

Andreas had just saluted Master Sergeant Kosolek when a whistling sound came from the sky.

Andreas immediately hit the ground, pulling the bewildered Malamon down with him.

Almost at the same moment, the earth began to shake.

Dirt continuously fell on Andreas’ head and poured down the collar of his tunic.

This bombardment was more intense than any previous one. Although Andreas had assumed the proper posture and had opened his mouth, his head still buzzed with the pressure, his ears rang madly, and he couldn’t even hear the explosive sounds of the shells.

He heard that Marshal Rocosov of Antea had ordered to level the entire position by one meter. From Andreas’ experience, one meter might not be achieved, but shaving off 30 centimeters of the ground certainly was.

That’s why now the experienced Pulosen Forces would dig trenches about 30 centimeters deeper than the manual stated.

Suddenly, someone was tapping Andreas’ shoulder.

He looked up and saw the company commander shouting something at him.

“What?” he shouted back.

The company commander pointed towards the riverbank.

Andreas guessed, the Anteans must be crossing over during the bombardment, but he didn’t want to get up, nor did he want to head to the gun position.

The company commander persisted, but then a heavy artillery shell landed near the trench, a shrapnel slicing off everything above his jaw.

Andreas saw the company commander’s tongue still hanging to his jaw, flailing in the air, and a fountain of blood spurting from somewhere behind the tongue.

The company commander’s body fell, lifeless.

“Damn it!” Andreas cursed and continued to lie flat on the ground, motionless.

“If you get blown up, there’s no way to defend the position. The platoon leader who just graduated from the military academy probably doesn’t understand that.”

The bombardment continued, and Andreas had lost track of time; when he tried to look at his watch, he found the dial covered in a layer of dirt.

The walls of the trench kept collapsing, and the mud seemed intent on burying Andreas.

After what felt like an eternity, the surrounding area finally fell silent.

Driven by instinct, Andreas crawled up and immediately looked for his assistant gunner.

Maramon seemed to be still breathing, so Andreas dragged him up and ran towards their machine gun position.

After a couple of steps, he remembered to check on his old friend, Master Sergeant Kosolek, and turned around just in time to see the sergeant pulling up one of two new recruits.

The recruit’s ears were bleeding, clearly, they had not taken the correct posture during the bombardment and had been concussed.

Kosolek slapped him, then turned to pull up the other new recruit.

Andreas no longer looked at the sergeant, trusting that he could handle everything—as after all, his own escape from death before was all thanks to the sergeant.

He grabbed Maramon and rushed into the bunker, seizing the overturned tripod: “Quick, help me, set up the machine gun!”

But Maramon didn’t respond, staring blankly in the direction of the Dibo River.

Andreas also glanced at the Dibo River and saw a dense mass of boats crossing the river, like a migrating herd of cattle.

There was a whistling in the air, but this time it was the division’s gunners, their shells splashing in the middle of the river without hitting any of the boats.

More shells fell into the water.

As the second wave, the 16th Infantry Division had 36 heavy artillery pieces, and there should be 150mm infantry guns within the battalion.

But the density of shells currently falling into the Dibo River wasn’t high, it looked like only a dozen guns were firing.

Some of them were even small-caliber mortars.

The first batch of Antean boats had already reached the shore, and the cloaked Imperial Guard infantry jumped down, spontaneously forming skirmish lines and walking towards the position of the 16th Division.

Andreas grabbed the stunned Maramon and, copying Master Sergeant Kosolek’s actions, gave him a few slaps.

Maramon, holding his face, came to his senses and looked at the sergeant in surprise.

Andreas said, “We’ve got to set up the machine gun properly, then fire!”

“Oh, yes! Sergeant!”

The two men then flipped the machine gun over. The recently oiled machine was covered in sand and dirt.

Maramon opened the ammo box and inserted the ammunition belt into the breech.

Andreas secured the feed cover, adjusted the tripod’s traverse wheel, and then began to fire.

His bullets knocked down a few Antean soldiers, while the others immediately dropped down, but those not targeted by Andreas started to run, showing no intention of lying down.

Andreas swung the gun towards these brave souls, and after taking one down, the others finally dropped to the ground.

But Anteans in other areas stood up again.

Damn Imperial Guards, the deterrence of the machine gun seemed nonexistent in front of them.

As Andreas grumbled, the Anteans’ suppressing fire arrived, the bullets hitting the blasted sandbags hard, and some even struck the tripod.

Andreas had to lie down.

Damn Imperial Guards!

During that time, another Plosen machine gun opened fire, and the Anteans’ supporting fire immediately stopped.

Although Andreas had no evidence, he felt it must be Master Sergeant Kosolek.

He also quickly got up and continued to fire.

Eventually, the battalion headquarters reacted, realizing that using mortars to bombard the water was wasteful, and mortar shells started landing on the beachhead.

Andreas saw some Imperial Guard soldiers blown into the air by the explosions, their cloaks unfurling like turning windmills.

Deep down, he was certain that the beach would be littered with Antean corpses after the battle ended today.

He continued to shoot until the barrel turned red.

“Change the barrel!” Andreas yelled.

“Yes!” Maramon stood up and put on gloves according to protocol—

Andreas pushed him away, directly opening the breech and pulling out the scorching barrel with his hand, throwing it on the ground.

“Think about how I got the scars on my palms!” he cursed and deftly installed the new barrel.

Once the change was complete, Andreas opened fire on the Anteans who had rushed to within fifty meters.

An Antean soldier threw a grenade, which landed outside the bunker’s sandbags.

The explosion kicked up dirt that obscured his view.

But Andreas didn’t stop firing.

After all, the machine gun’s sights were already set; he could keep firing blindly from side to side and still sweep the enemy, halting their advance.

When the first belt was finished, Andreas removed the machine gun and kicked Maramon in the butt: “Move! Change position!”

They had just run out of the bunker when a grenade landed inside.

The explosion’s debris caught up to Andreas from behind.

He could not afford to be concerned, as he dragged Maramon and sprinted, shouting as they ran, “Stop the Anteans, cover us as we change positions!”

“Understood, Sergeant!” someone replied, though Andreas didn’t see who it was.