cicada

Chapter 1487 Blocking
Somewhere in the Alps, rhododendrons sway gently in the wind, and squirrels stand on cedar branches grooming themselves, but a sudden crunching sound breaks the tranquility.

On the mountain road, a Sherman tank rumbled along, its steel tracks crushing the dead trees and embedding the wood chips firmly into the ground. Squirrels and other small animals were frightened and scurried into the bushes.

Inside the turret of one of the tanks, an American soldier without rank insignia, a cigar dangling from his mouth, leaned out halfway out, peering through binoculars, looking around with an air of utter ease.

Since breaking through the northern Italian defenses, the Allied forces have encountered no organized resistance, and marching here is no different from a road trip.

Not only this American soldier, but also the American soldiers in the other armored vehicles and jeeps had the same listless expressions, as did the accompanying infantry on both sides of the road.

A young soldier walked slowly, carrying a Garand rifle, while discussing with his comrade beside him: "Tim, I heard that the German Führer's villa is nearby. Is that our destination?"

The soldier called Tim spat out his chewing gum, which he had been chewing for a long time, and replied casually, "Maybe, but the First Lord's guards won't line up to welcome us, Philip."

Just then, an intelligence officer ran up from the back of the convoy, climbed onto the turret, and loudly reported to the man smoking a cigar.

"Major, we are seven kilometers away from our target."

The major nodded, reached for his cigar, and roared, "Order the lads to speed things up. We've lost contact with G2; they might be in trouble."

The staff officer responded with a "yes," jumped off the tank, and relayed the order to the officers, and the American troops increased their marching speed once again.

The lead tank turned a corner on the mountain road, and just as the major was about to look down at the map, a dazzling flash of light suddenly appeared a few meters away.

Several cedar trees located on both sides of the mountain road were blown off at the base, and their trunks fell crookedly in the middle of the road, completely blocking the road.

The moment the explosion occurred, the major instinctively ducked his head, a movement that saved his life. The next second, the blast wave carrying several pieces of wood flew past his head.

As the explosion occurred, multiple bullets were fired from the shadows, accurately hitting the American soldiers whose helmets bore white markings.

To avoid snipers, U.S. military officers would remove their rank insignia on the battlefield and use the same weapons as soldiers, only having special markings painted in white on their helmets for easier command.

If the major hadn't pulled his head back in time, he would have been killed by a bullet even if he hadn't been hit by tree debris.

The attack came suddenly, but after months of fierce fighting, the 10th Mountain Division had developed a standard set of mountain counter-ambush tactics.

As soon as the explosions and gunfire began, the surviving U.S. officers and sergeants in the ranks immediately lay down and sought cover, while simultaneously assessing the direction and density of the fire and the enemy's location.

"Don't Stop—Fire and Maneuver!"

(Don't stop—suppress, maneuver!)
A U.S. platoon leader pointed to the muzzle flashes on the hilltop and shouted to his men, while he crawled into the bushes by the roadside.

Upon hearing his order, the U.S. Army communications soldier, disregarding the hail of bullets, risked his life to run to the back of the vehicle, pick up the external telephone, and report the location to the inside of the vehicle.

With the help of radio communication, all the tanks that received the message slowly turned their gun barrels in an attempt to fire, but the mountaintop was too high, exceeding the maximum elevation angle of the tank guns.

After several attempts, finding that he could not attack the attackers, the machine gunner grabbed the handle of the Browning M2 heavy machine gun on the roof of the vehicle with both hands, aimed at the mountaintop, and opened fire.

German propaganda often portrays American soldiers as pampered pampered soldiers, which is a very wrong perception.

Take the 10th Mountain Division as an example. Its members are mostly from ski clubs, national park rangers, mountaineers, and hunters. They are familiar with high-altitude climbing, ski marching, shooting, and various survival skills, and have undergone intensive training.

For example, U.S. Army heavy machine gunners consume at least tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition during training, which is unimaginable in other countries.

Excellent recruits and various professional training made the US military extremely powerful. Chen Mingjiang and others were so badly hit by the M2 heavy machine guns from the foot of the mountain that they could not raise their heads and could only lie down to avoid the bullets.

Upon discovering that the attackers' firepower had weakened, the US 60mm mortar crews immediately set up positions and began high-angle counter-suppression.

"Scatter!" Chen Mingjiang immediately gave the order in German upon seeing the situation.

Without fortifications, to withstand artillery fire is suicidal. Military intelligence agents are not gods; they can die just as easily from artillery fire.

The sound carried down the mountain. The American major, cigar in hand, sneered. The Germans' tactics were always so rigid. This battle would be over soon.

In accordance with anti-ambush tactics, when the mortars opened fire, a small American squad had already circled around to the flank, attempting to outflank the attackers.

Philip and Tim, who had been chatting earlier, were also in this squad. The two of them, along with a dozen or so other infantrymen, quietly made their way towards the top of the mountain. The rugged mountain path was like flat ground to them.

After climbing up an almost vertical cliff, Philip adjusted his helmet, half-squatted on the ground, and looked up at the mountaintop not far away, his eyes full of contempt and ease.

The German army may have been formidable a few years ago, but as the war has progressed, the German army, having lost its veterans, has become significantly weaker and is no longer the army that swept across Europe.

Tim, seeing that he wasn't moving, patted him on the shoulder and said, "Dude, this isn't the place to stand around."

Philip snapped out of his daze, crouched low, and continued forward. After a few steps, a soft cracking sound came from beneath his feet. "F*** you!"

Philip disappeared into the firelight before he could even utter that one curse. Tim and the others behind him quickly dropped to the ground, their eyes filled with terror.

Before the American soldiers could recover from their shock, several smoking limbs lay nearby. Tim, watching his childhood friend die a gruesome death, felt a churning in his stomach and vomited.

Vomiting seemed to be contagious, and the other members of the squad also vomited all over the place. Seeing the American troops in chaos, the Kuomintang agents who were lying in ambush nearby took the opportunity to open fire.

The Kuomintang's firepower was inferior to that of the US military, but their marksmanship was more accurate. The junior agents calmly fired from behind cover, and half of the twenty-man US military squad was lost in the blink of an eye.

Having emptied his rifle, the intelligence chief retreated while warning his men, "Retreat! Watch out for artillery fire!"

Their mission was to hold off the enemy, not to engage in direct combat with the American forces. They had to fire one shot and move on to another, and they could not afford to linger in battle. This was the tactic that kept the Japanese army constantly on the run.

Sure enough, no sooner had the little spy left than American artillery fire blanketed the mountains and forests, the sound of which could be clearly heard several kilometers away at the monastery.

As Gui Youguang watched the rising smoke and dust from the explosion, his anxiety grew, and he once again ordered an accelerated search for the laboratory.

He walked up to Heinz, his voice icy: "Professor, if we can find out where you are, we can find out where your family is too."

Faced with the threat, Heinz seemed deaf, closing his eyes and remaining silent.

"I hope you can stay this tough." Gui Youguang snorted coldly and personally joined the search operation.

The battle between the blocking force and the US forces had reached its climax. A mortar shell landed and exploded, blowing two junior agents away with the shockwave. They were seriously injured in their legs, chest and abdomen, and blood was flowing from their mouths and noses.

Chen Mingjiang looked sorrowful. The two operatives had suffered internal injuries and, in this condition, had almost no hope of survival.

The young spy understood his situation. Without hesitation, the two pulled out their sidearms, pressed them against their chins, and pulled the triggers. The bullets pierced through their skulls and exploded, creating a large hole in the top of their heads.

Witnessing his men die a martyr's death, Chen Mingjiang was heartbroken, but now was not the time to grieve. He stuffed a bomb under the two men and pulled the fuse before leaving.

When the fuse burned out, the bomb exploded with a bang, and two white flames engulfed the body.

To avoid leaving any clues for the Americans, the operatives carried thermite bombs capable of generating temperatures of thousands of degrees.

At such high temperatures, not only would a corpse melt, but even rocks would melt, leaving no trace of hair, fingerprints, blood, or any other identifiable evidence at the scene.

Chen Mingjiang took one last look at the burning corpses, then turned back to continue the bloody battle with the American troops, with both sides fighting for the hilltop position inch by inch.

The mines and booby traps he ordered to be laid before the battle played a huge role. The US commander sent three squads to the flank, but most of them were killed or wounded halfway there without even seeing the Kuomintang agents.

With only half his body remaining, Tim lay on the ground gasping for breath. Like his friend Philip, he had stepped on a landmine. Before losing consciousness, Tim looked at the sun as if he had returned to warm California.

"war of the Damned."

With all his remaining strength, Tim uttered those words and breathed his last, but his death was just a minor casualty in the war, and the fighting continued.

Chen Mingjiang had just killed an American heavy machine gunner when he was immediately targeted by other M2 heavy machine guns, and the whistling bullets shattered the rocks in front of him.

A junior agent, carrying a captured bazooka, knelt on one knee and aimed at the tanks below the mountain, preparing to fire. However, several bullets interrupted his movements, and the junior agent released the rocket launcher and slowly fell down.

"cover!"

Another junior agent shouted, grabbed a bazooka, and fired it decisively. The rocket flew from the mountaintop down the mountain and collided with the top of a tank, causing a violent explosion.

At such a distance, rockets cannot penetrate the armor of a tank, but they are enough to destroy the machine guns.

A flash of light, and the M2 heavy machine gunner who was firing was sent flying, crashing heavily to the ground, lifeless, the thick gun barrel twisted and deformed.

The loss of a machine gun gave the Kuomintang agents more opportunities to fire, and several rockets, trailing white smoke, hit multiple Shermans, throwing the American convoy into chaos.

The major sat in the turret, clutching his forehead, blood seeping from between his fingers. He didn't have time to bandage his wound and immediately ordered the air-ground coordinator to contact the air force.

Dozens of kilometers west of the scene of the firefight, three P-51s received a distress call and immediately changed course. To save time, the pilots flew the planes at high speed along the valley.

Chen Mingjiang had just breathed a sigh of relief after repelling another wave of attacks from the American forces when he heard a buzzing sound in the air. His expression changed drastically, and he waved to the agents, shouting, "Retreat! Retreat!"

(End of this chapter)