artillery arc

Chapter 736 The Longest Day

The coastal defenses of the western front of Plossom at noon on August 917, 8: the West Wall.

After inspecting the six fortresses, Marshal Erwin Romer walked to the coastal breakwater with his hands behind his back and said, “Very good, I am very happy to see that you have completed my request. This section of coastal defense is impeccable!

"The only problem is the manpower!"

Romell looked at the Coast Guard soldiers lined up nearby.

"I have never seen soldiers with such poor quality. The soldiers of the Youth Division at least have the physical strength and reactions of young people. What about you? Are you presbyopic?"

The commander of the 200th Coast Guard Division said: "When the Coast Guard Division was formed, we accepted those who failed the physical examination. Although most of us are nearsighted and have poor physical fitness, we can do as well as ordinary soldiers in the bunker with a machine gun with a set scale.

"And all of us can operate machine guns and artillery. Even the first wave of infantry divisions can't do this. We have never neglected training over the years."

Marshal Erwin: "Yes, yes. I hope your training is useful! Because across the sea, there is a monster squatting! It is ready to jump across the narrow channel and give us a fatal blow! A fatal blow!"

The marshal stopped, put his hands behind his back, and held the marshal's staff.

After a few seconds of silence, he looked at the sea and said: "The first 24 hours after the landing are the most critical. In the Kingdom of Sardinia, it was in the first 24 hours that I decisively deployed the armored division to counterattack and drove the enemy into the sea.

"For soldiers on both sides of the war, the first day of landing will be the longest day of their lives."

The marshal turned around and repeated to all his staff: "The longest day!"

----

Across the sea, the headquarters of the United States Third Army.

Admiral John Jr., holding a cigar in his mouth, paced back and forth in front of the window. Outside the window, heavy rain was falling, accompanied by lightning and thunder.

"This damn weather! It looks like we won't be able to land tomorrow! My three divisions are floating on the sea! And in this weather!"

The chief of staff reminded: "We are moored at the anchorage. There is a breakwater to block the waves so they won't be too big."

Little John: "I said they are floating on the sea, so they are floating! Don't refute me. You are the chief of staff. Your duty is to implement my orders, not to refute me!"

"My duties also include pointing out your mistakes and offering advice," the Chief of Staff reminded.

Little John waved his hand and said, "Okay, okay, you are right. You are a scholar, and I am a tank soldier!"

At this time, the door opened and the confidential secretary came in with documents: "The latest weather report is out."

"Give it to me!" Little John rushed over, snatched the report and read it carefully.

The chief of staff also leaned over and stretched his head to peek at the words on the document.

Admiral Little John stuffed the document directly into the Chief of Staff's hands: "You take it. Prepare the car! I want to go to the Allied Headquarters!"

Chief of Staff: "The report just says it might get better, maybe!"

"We can't wait any longer! Even if the weather is still this bad tomorrow, we have to land."

Chief of Staff: "How? No, this is not in line with military common sense."

Admiral Little John ignored him and ran out while shouting to prepare the car.

----

Allied Command, Office of the Supreme Commander.

"Even if the weather improves, considering the clouds over the sea, the good weather will only last for a few days. We must occupy Qinbao during this period, otherwise all the landing troops will be in danger of running out of food, and the follow-up troops will not be able to land." United Kingdom Army General Mago looked at General Ike, "The risk is too great. I am against landing now."

Admiral Ike: "You always take things step by step, that's your style. It's because of this style that Erwin Romer took advantage of you time and time again in Mamluk.

"Maybe we should take some risks sometimes. The intelligence from Ant shows that at least 20 divisions have been transferred to the Eastern Front. We are facing the old, weak and sick members of the Coastal Defense Division. As long as we break through the beach, we can advance straight ahead."

Admiral Mago: "That also requires waiting for the weather to improve. Who can guarantee that the weather will definitely improve?"

At this time, the office door opened, and Admiral Little John rushed in with his signature cigar in his mouth: "Ike! The rain has lightened up on my way here! Believe me, it's time to land!"

He did not close the door when he came in, so Admiral Cunningham, commander of the Royal Navy's Home Fleet, and Admiral Dowding of the Royal Air Force also came in.

Admiral Little John: "The weather will improve, and we will land on the beaches of Norman tomorrow, tomorrow!"

Admiral Cunningham: "But the waves in the strait are five meters high. Are you sure you want to cross the sea at this time?"

Admiral Ike: "What time is this report?"

"At 2 p.m., the highest wave seen at various observation stations was five meters, and the lowest was three meters."

Little John: "When the weather gets better, the tide won't be so high! The tide will be suitable for landing! This is an opportunity, an opportunity God has given us."

Ike shook his head: "Let's observe for a while. It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. If we want to land tomorrow, when is the latest time for me to make a decision?"

Ike's adjutant replied, "Tonight at eight o'clock, Admiral."

"There's still time."

At this time, Admiral King, commander of the Allied Atlantic Fleet, entered the room and said to everyone, "The rain has stopped, gentlemen. Perhaps the moment we have been waiting for is coming."

All the generals in the room turned their heads to look at the window.

Admiral Ike walked to the window, pulled the latch, and pushed the window outward.

No rain came in.

Admiral Dowding: "I will ask the meteorological stations in various places to confirm the situation."

"No need." Admiral Ike stopped him. "The sooner we make the decision, the easier it will be to act. Tomorrow is the day we should take the risk. Tomorrow, August 3, is D-Day. Let's strike hard at the Prosoms."

----

Ships of the 1701st Transport Detachment are anchored in the port anchorage at one of the many ports in the United Kingdom.

The soldiers on the ship have been drifting for almost two weeks, and have been exposed to rain all day for the past few days.

Army Captain Thomas was lying in his hammock, swaying gently with the waves.

His good friend, platoon leader Jack, came to him and complained loudly: "It's hell next to the toilet. The toilet is full of vomit, the trash can is full of vomit, the kerosene barrel is full of vomit, and any container is full of vomit. Now they are starting to use helmets to hold vomit.

"You should really smell it. Going to the bathroom is torture. Torture!"

Thomas: "Then you can just pull it into the sea. Many people do this. Jefferson from Company F even fell into the sea and drowned."

"I can't swim," said Jack.

Thomas got up. "What? Damn it, did you know we were going to have a landing?"

"I know, but damn, this might be the biggest landing of the entire war. Do you think I can say no? If it were you, would you not go?"

Thomas: "I'm different. Many of my men died at the hands of the Prosens. In the Mamluks, in Tunisia, in Sicily - and in the damned Sardinian Kingdom, as long as I'm alive, I'll never be done with the Prosens. Most importantly, I can swim."

Jack: "Fuck."

At this time, a whistle sounded outside the cabin.

The originally noisy cabin suddenly became quiet.

Everyone looked towards the hatch.

There was the whistle again.

Thomas: "Does a ship blow the whistle randomly when it's at anchor?"

As soon as he finished speaking, someone ran into the cabin: "Weigh the anchor! We're setting off!"

Everyone was stunned, and then someone shouted: "Shit! I haven't finished writing the letter to my mother! Damn it, I hope I can hand it in before leaving the port!"

More people were cheering: "Let's go!"

"This damn day is over!"

"We're going to fuck the Plossoms!"

Everybody was cheering, even though half the people in the cabin had never seen a Prosen in their lives and had no blood feud with them, but they were cheering all the same.

Soon, the cheers merged into a very non-standard song for weighing anchor - this was a naval song, and there were only the army in the cabin, and there was not much harmony between the navy and the army of the United States, but no one cared about this at the moment.

----

8:3, August , Norfolk Air Force Base, United Kingdom.

Three hundred C47 transport planes were lined up on the runway and apron, and the roar of their engines sounded like rolling thunder.

The first C47 took off, towing the glider carrying Commander that was to assault the bridge.

In the sky, fleets of aircraft were being organized, and a huge cluster taking off from three hundred air bases was gathering.

The weather had cleared up with only a few clouds.

On the roof of a house next to the base, a young boy is looking up at the sky.

His mother opened the attic window and leaned out, shouting: "Harry! Be careful not to fall down like this!" Little boy: "I brought a broom!"

"Only little boys in fairy tale books can fly on a broomstick! Come back here now!"

"Mom, there are a lot of planes in the sky!"

The woman looked up at the sky: "Yeah, the buzzing is so annoying."

"They are going to fight the Plossoms. They will avenge their father!" the little boy shouted, "Please let me see them off!"

The woman was silent, her eyes gradually filled with tears as she looked at the sky.

She did not continue to ask the little boy to go back into the house.

----

An hour and a half later, over the Duchy of Normandy.

Major Mark held the joystick and looked out the window at the dark land.

"Damn it, I can't see anything. Where is the guiding light of the resistance organization?"

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The co-pilot shook his head: "I didn't see it either. The ground below was pitch black—"

Just as he finished speaking, an anti-aircraft shell exploded in front of the plane, and shrapnel hit the outer shell of the cockpit.

Major Mark: “Fuck!”

Immediately afterwards, beams of searchlights lit up on the ground, intensive anti-aircraft fire rose into the sky, and artillery shells continued to explode in the air.

Major Mark: "Now at least we know we didn't fly back to the United States!"

Before he could finish his words, the lead plane in front was hit and slowly fell to the ground, dragging a tongue of fire. The paratroopers in the cabin flew out one after another, but because they did not have the parachute hooks on, none of their parachutes opened.

Major Mark: "We are the guide plane."

He turned on the radio: "This is the guidance plane, follow us, does anyone see the guidance signs on the ground?"

"The ground is full of fucking gunfire. We can't see the guidance markings even if there are any." The pilot of an unknown plane replied on the radio.

At this time, the paratrooper commander of the Mark aircraft stuck his head into the cockpit and asked: "Have we reached the drop site?"

Mark: "Look at the traffic light, it's not red yet. Don't worry, I'll turn off the traffic light when we get there!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the plane shook.

Mark: "What happened just now? Check the status of the plane!"

"No need to confirm, our engine is on fire." The co-pilot said, "I suggest cutting the lights and letting them get off."

Major Mark pressed the button, and the red light in the cabin turned green.

The paratrooper sitting by the door yelled, "The plane is on fire, I'm getting out!"

He just jumped down.

The paratrooper commander exclaimed: "You don't have a hook! Damn it! Hook it quickly, hang it and jump down, quickly!"

Mark: "The good news is that the engine fire is out, and we don't have to worry about the fire burning the wings. The bad news is that we are decreasing our altitude, and we will soon reach a height where you can't parachute safely-"

He looked back and was surprised to find that all the paratroopers in the cabin had already gone down.

The paratrooper commander patted Mark on the shoulder and said, "Thank you, and good luck to you."

After saying that, he turned around, walked briskly to the cabin door, and jumped down without hesitation.

Mark glanced at the co-pilot and said, "I'm going to make an emergency landing on the beach."

The co-pilot didn't answer, his head tilted to the side.

Only then did Mark realize that the co-pilot had been shot at some point.

"damn it."

----

August 8, 3 hours, Plossom Western Command.

Erwin Romer pushed open the bedroom door and asked as he got dressed, "What woke me up?"

"Paratroopers, Your Excellency the Marshal."

Erwin stopped buttoning his shirt and looked up at his adjutant: "Paratroopers? Size? Location?"

"In the Norman Duchy, the scale is still being determined. The resistance has cut our phone lines and we are in chaos now."

The marshal frowned. "The resistance organization cut off the telephone lines at this time... This seems to be a long-planned large-scale action. Immediately restore contact with my armored division - no, I will go to the 21st Armored Division headquarters in person to prepare vehicles and armed escorts.

"Also, send people to the 507th Heavy Armored Battalion and have them march out as soon as they get intelligence on the enemy's attack location!"

Adjutant: "The 507th Heavy Armored Battalion is the Asgard Knights. Can't we just give them direct command?"

Erwin: "I am the commander-in-chief of the Western Front! Tell him to either accept my command or wait for a court-martial!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of submachine gun fire was heard outside.

"What's going on?" Erwin asked.

At this time, the head of the guard regiment appeared with a submachine gun in hand: "The resistance organization threw a grenade at our sentry post, but it did not explode."

Before he could finish his words, the sound of MG42 firing was heard outside, followed by several explosions.

Erwin: "Eliminate the resistance! Also, does the Guard have any tanks?"

The head of the guard looked embarrassed: "We only have half-track vehicles."

"Not even a Panzer II? A half-track will do. Is there a half-track equipped with a 20mm machine gun?"

"No."

"You have nothing!" Erwin cursed, "I need armored forces to send me to the 21st Installation! Forget it, a half-track will do. The first 24 hours after the landing are the most critical. At this time, we can send in the armored division to counterattack before the enemy's anti-armor forces land. We can create a time difference and drive them into the sea! This is how it is in the Kingdom of Sardinia. Prepare a half-track for me, I want to go to the 21st Installation!"

----

After Captain Iverson landed, the first thing he did was touch his "leg bag", which was the nickname of the new equipment issued to the paratroopers before the attack began, mainly used to carry the paratroopers' weapons.

Then Captain Iverson felt only the broken strap, apparently severed by shrapnel from an anti-aircraft shell.

"Oh shit."

He looked up at the sky, where Plosson's anti-aircraft guns were pouring fire.

The good news is that he hid a small pistol because he didn't trust his new leg bag.

He took out his pistol, held a small IFF device in his other hand, and walked forward in the dark.

Soon he heard some movement ahead.

Iverson pressed the thing in his hand, and the toy-like thing made a crisp "click" sound.

His heart was in his throat. If it was a Prosen, he would have no choice but to use his pistol to fight off the enemy.

The good news is that the Angsa language with a very authentic accent came from the other side.

Ivanson quickly leaned over and said, "Fuck! You can't talk, you should respond with two clicks!"

"I'm sorry, but I lost that thing."

Iverson recognized the voice: "Reverend?"

This is the chaplain of their battalion.

"Is this voice Captain Iverson? Hello!"

"Pastor, what are you doing?" Ivanson went through the bushes and found a swamp behind him. He stopped beside the swamp and looked at the pastor lying on the branches. "Are you drowning? Do you need help?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm looking for my Bible and my communion box, I'm a priest and I can't live without these things, they're like my weapons!"

Ivanson frowned. "Uh, Reverend, do you have a real weapon? I remember you should have a Garand semi-automatic rifle?"

"Good question. I can't find it. Only half of the strap is left of my leg bag. That's why I need to find my Bible so that I can read it to the Prosen people when I meet them!"

Evanson: “Ah?”

Priest: "I'm serious. Go away, Captain. The soldiers need your command."

"Fuck it," Iverson cursed. "No, I'll help you find the Bible, and then we'll go find the troops together."

"No, I have good news. I found it!" The priest said, taking out a package from the water. "It's intact! Let's go, Captain!"

(End of this chapter)