artillery arc

Chapter 560 Focus on the heart
Abawahan city, 36th psychological offensive station.

This was originally a school. During the fierce fighting over the past thirty days, the school's main teaching building was converted into a defensive support point for the 168th Infantry Division. The Prosens attacked fiercely for seven days but failed to take it down.

The entire school grounds were littered with the bodies of Plossom soldiers, but now they were completely covered by snow.

There is now a large speaker installed on the roof of the teaching building, and at this moment it is playing Proson’s famous song “Erica”.

I don't know where the gunshot came from, and the bullet hit the horn, making a sharp sound.

However, this did not stop the melody of "Erica" ​​from floating out of the speakers.

Inside the building, the announcer of the psychological warfare team looked outside nervously: "Is there any gunfire?"

The military commander of the 168th Division said, "It was gunfire. The enemy controlled the school dormitory and the gunfire happened to hit the loudspeaker on the roof."

Announcer: "Isn't this close? Why don't you take over the school dormitory?"

"Because the front army has ordered to carry out defensive operations in the city and wait for the enemy to exhaust their will to resist. Do not increase casualties out of thin air." The bishop patted the announcer's shoulder, "So it's up to you."

The male announcer who was partnered with the female announcer asked, "Bishop Dawasili, I heard that your division is going to become a guards unit?"

"That's what I said." The bishop smiled, "In fact, all the divisions that have persisted in the city until now will probably be upgraded to guards. The front headquarters has approved 28 quotas for us to be ANT heroes. Twenty-eight! I was worried that some people would be upset because they couldn't get gold stars. Now, it's hard to say whether the living people can gather ."

"So many!" the male announcer said with envy, "What a pity, I probably will never get this position."

The bishop suddenly frowned: "No, announcer Davarish, once you understand our experience in the past twenty days, you will not think so. You will be eager to stay away from the front line."

The male announcer looked embarrassed and the female announcer stepped on him under the table.

Bishop: “Go on the air.”

The female announcer immediately picked up the script, turned down the music, and read into the microphone: "Brothers of Proshen soldiers, brothers of Proshen soldiers! You have worked hard! While you were hungry, fighting against the cold and disease on the front line, the emperor and nobles of Proshen were enjoying delicious food in their comfortable and warm palaces.

"Your father froze to death on the streets of Prothenia, and the emperor's propaganda minister is still whitewashing the situation, saying that more people froze to death because life has improved and too many people are drinking and passing out on the street!

"Brothers of the Plossen soldiers, you are fighting bravely, but the generals are hiding in the safe fortress behind..."

Another gunshot was heard outside. The female announcer trembled for a moment, but continued to read the script.

The bishop who was accompanying the army turned his head and asked in a low voice: "Did you use the loudspeaker again? Arrange a sniper to kill this guy."

Follower: "It's not the horn, I don't know where it's hitting."

The bishop raised his eyebrows, looked at the two people who were still broadcasting, and lowered his voice: "Continue to monitor, deploy snipers, and if you see anyone aiming at our loudspeakers, just shoot them."

"Yes."

----

Major Richard looked up when he heard the gunshots, but the bunker they were in had been completely sealed off, abandoning all defensive duties and existing only for warmth.

So he had no place to even look outside.

Even so, Major Richard was so cold that he put on all his clothes and wrapped himself in a marching blanket.

He could no longer hold a pen, so he did not write to his wife for two days.

What's the point of writing it? I probably won't be able to take the letter out alive.

At this time, a series of PPSh gun shooting sounds were heard outside.

No one in the fort moved, because moving would consume energy and make it even colder. Everyone was now wrapped in blankets and huddled together like hibernating bears.

The sergeant next to the major said, "Could it be that our people who went to get the food were ambushed?"

"So what if it is?" the major asked, "Do you think there will be food in the supply center?"

The sergeant made no reply.

Major Richard wrapped himself tightly in the blanket and curled up into a ball.

At this time, someone at the other end of the large room started to move: "It's freezing, I need to light a fire."

"There's nothing left to burn!" someone advised.

"Burn my blanket!" the man who was going to light the fire shouted. "Warm yourself up a little, and then we'll have a big fire and it'll keep you warm for an hour!"

"You're crazy! What are you going to do without a blanket?"

"No matter! I might as well be dead! Isn't this just torture? If I die, you can burn me too! Burn me!"

Major Richard looked coldly at the other side, watching several people wrestling with each other.

The small stove in front of him had long since run out of sparks; the fuel had burned out yesterday.

At this time, a sergeant stood up and shouted angrily: "Stop quarreling! Isn't it even colder if you quarrel in such cold weather? If you really want to live, surrender! The Ant people must be well fed and warmly dressed!"

The quarreling people quieted down. I don't know if it was a psychological effect, but the voice of the Ant people's broadcast outside became louder, as if it penetrated the thick walls of the room.

"Brothers of the Plossen soldiers, you are hungry and cold, while the generals in the rear are full of greed. The fruits of your hard work have been embezzled by them, and not a single cent has been given to your families, your brothers and sisters.

"Your sisters even have to sell their bodies to support themselves!"

The sergeant pointed in the direction of the voice and said, "Go and surrender! They must have prepared hot meals for you! Go!"

The people who had just quarreled looked at each other.

Suddenly, the person who initially said he wanted to burn his blanket turned and walked out.

The sergeant drew his gun and said, "According to Plossen's military law, deserters and those who surrender to the enemy must be shot on the spot!"

The soldier stopped and looked back, then took another step and walked towards the door with unusual determination.

The sergeant pulled the trigger, but the gun was frozen and did not fire. While he was repairing the gun in a rage, the soldiers opened the door and cold wind immediately poured into the fortress, even with snowflakes.

Everyone was shivering with cold.

The door was not closed after the deserter left, and the cold wind continued to blow in.

Seeing this, the few soldiers who had just dissuaded him immediately walked towards the gate and stumbled out.

"Wait a minute!" the sergeant shouted, "you bastards!"

"That's enough." Major Richard said, "Close the door. Those who didn't escape are all frozen. Whoever wants to run away in the future, just run away. But when you get to Ant's place, you will be tortured by their inquisitors first. They are all very bad people. You will be tortured worse than death."

Everyone fell silent.

The sergeant was the first to realize what was happening. He waved his hand and shouted, "Close the door! Close the door!"

Several soldiers at the door stood up and worked together to close the door.

However, the temperature, which had already dropped, would not rise again so quickly, and Major Richard had to curl up a little tighter.

----

Cinco de Mayo Street, front-line cooking station.

In fact, the so-called front-line cooking station, in addition to providing hot meals to soldiers, also has an important role in conducting psychological warfare.

The cooking station cooks all kinds of strong-smelling food with a lot of spices. When it’s windy, you can smell the aroma of the food from across the street.

Not long after the meal was cooked that day, several Proson soldiers emerged from the alley, weapons and white shorts raised high, and walked towards the cooking station.

The cooking station was specially staffed with a Proson translator, who shouted, “Is that the old surrenderer?”

"Do you have hot meals?" the other side asked.

"Yes, meat soup, borscht, everything, and plenty of meat!"

"We are here to surrender!" the Prosen people finally admitted.

"Put your hands up and walk over here slowly! Put your gun next to that old tree! Yes, walk over here slowly! Our soldiers will search you to prevent you from hiding grenades! OK, come here, Tang is here!"

As soon as the Plosson soldier entered the trench, he took the bowl of soup and began to eat it ravenously. As a result, he started coughing because he ate too quickly.

The translator patted their backs and advised, "Slow down! You've been hungry for too long. If you eat too fast, your body will react and you might die! You've made up your mind to surrender. It's not worth dying over this now!"

But none of the Plosson soldiers listened to him, and they all ate their food in revenge.

After finally eating their fill, the veteran who led the team said to the translator, "Don't use these broadcasts anymore. We've heard too many of them in China. You should build more cooking stations so that people will come when they get hungry! Now that I've finished eating, let the judge judge me!"

Translation: "You will not see the Inquisitor. Only military officers will be sent to the Inquisitor. We already know the little information you have. It is not worth interrogating!"

The old soldier's eyes widened: "Aren't you going to interrogate us?"

"Yeah, only military officers will be questioned because they may have intelligence."

The old soldier looked back at where he had come from and asked, "Can I go back and tell my comrades about this? Many of them wanted to come, but the officers threatened us that we would be interrogated by the judge and even our skin would be peeled off."

"Okay, you can go back." The translator said without hesitation, "Our general has given the order. You can go back if you want, but you cannot bring weapons with you. This is to prevent you from using weapons to attack us after you return."

The old soldier was obviously hesitant: "We can't take weapons back. If we take weapons, we can still say we are on patrol. If we don't take weapons back... we can't find any weapons now. The heavy snow has buried all the bodies and weapons!"

Translation: "Then you decide for yourselves. The prisoner-of-war camp is on the east coast. We have enough food and warm clothes. We will definitely survive this winter."

The old soldier thought about it and sighed: "I'm not going back. My brothers have to continue to fight for their lives."

Translation: "Okay, then I'll arrange for someone to take you across the river."

"Please arrange someone." said the veteran.

(End of this chapter)