artillery arc

Chapter 746 Becoming a Mountain That Never Bows
September 9, 7 kilometers from the Vistula River, above the front line.

Wang Zhong took the wireless phone receiver and called out the number he saw on the plug-in: "229th Regiment, First Battalion, please answer. 229th Regiment, First Battalion, please answer."

"I am from the First Battalion, go ahead."

Wang Zhong: "How are you doing?"

The radius of the bird's-eye view is so small, and Pei 3 is flying too fast, so there is no time to see clearly, so Wang Zhong asked this question.

"Our losses are not bad, only about a hundred men, but we are running low on ammunition. The priest is organizing people to clean up the battlefield. But the enemy doesn't have much ammunition left either. The enemy soldiers who died early still have one or two magazines left on them, and the enemy soldiers who have fought only have ammunition left on their guns."

One battalion lost more than a hundred men, and the battalion was not fully equipped and staffed during the attack - there was no fully equipped and staffed battalion in the entire assault group.

In other words, at least 30% of the troops were lost, and the ammunition was almost exhausted.

Wang Zhong: "Hold on, ammunition and supplies will be here soon."

"Yes, Comrade Yuan--Special Envoy!"

After all, the enemy could also hear the radio. Although Wang Zhong changed the communication frequency every day, the frequency table of some troops might be seized by the enemy. So Wang Zhong assumed that the enemy could hear it and stipulated that everyone on the radio should call him special correspondent.

After finishing the communication with the 229th Regiment, he called the number of the next unit, and after receiving a response, he asked as usual: "How are you doing?"

"Comrade Special Envoy, we still have some ammunition, but we have lost all our anti-tank weapons. We are now collecting bottles to make Molotov cocktails. Local people have donated their kerosene for lighting to make Molotov cocktails for us!"

From Wang Zhong's bird's-eye view, the person who reported to him was not the battalion commander, but a captain. It is estimated that both the battalion commander and the deputy battalion commander were killed, and the military chaplain may have also been killed.

Wang Zhong: "Hold on a bit, supplies will be delivered soon."

The supply plan formulated by Pavlov concentrated all the trucks he could currently find to transport supplies from the military stations in the rear to the front line.

Because all the trucks were concentrated to supply the Vistula Battle Group, millions of civilian laborers and horse-drawn and donkey-drawn carts were mobilized in the rear to supply other troops - the civilian laborers and horse-drawn carts were mainly responsible for the "last leg" from the train station to the specific troops.

Only the secular church has a high mobilization capability, otherwise even if Pavlov had three heads and six arms he would not be able to solve the supply problem.

Emilia's voice came through the intercom: "It looks like most of the troops have successfully arrived at the planned location."

Wang Zhong: "That's right, I commanded well."

Wang Zhong has been patrolling the war zone these days, informing the troops below of the location of the enemy forces in real time, and even personally throwing smoke bombs to guide the attack. It was with great difficulty that the troops were able to advance at a speed of 20 kilometers per day.

The Prosen people's will to resist was still firm. Without Wang Zhong's guidance, some sturdy bunkers and strategically located bunkers would have likely blocked the troops for a day or two.

However, with Wang Zhong's guidance, these bunkers and secret bunkers were either blown up from the back with explosive packs or directly skipped over and handed over to the subsequent armored units to deal with.

Plossen's troops were cut into pieces by the interspersed offensive, and then the small Plossen troops deployed in key positions were defeated one by one by the armored forces.

As for the Plossen troops that were not in key positions, they were surrounded by the second-line troops but not attacked.

Wang Zhong has discovered that the Plossen troops he is facing seem unable to fight an offensive battle. Although his light infantry does not have heavy equipment, the Plossen people are not much behind. Some Plossen divisions only have 105 or even 75mm infantry guns, and they don't even have Plossen's signature 150mm heavy infantry guns.

It won't be a big problem for these troops to resist stubbornly in their strongholds. They can hold out for a while. If we let them attack, they won't be able to defeat even Ant's second-line troops and militia.

After walking more than 100 kilometers, the casualties per kilometer were much smaller than before the recapture of Agsukov last year.

Unfortunately, the distance of more than 100 kilometers is a bit long and the troops are almost at their limit.

After the replenishment was completed, Wang Zhong was a little skeptical whether the troops with such heavy losses could continue to advance. After all, the enemy still had more than 100,000 troops suppressing the Melania uprising.

Most of these hundreds of thousands of people are fully equipped, and we cannot expect Melania's rebel army to consume them.

Maybe we should wait a while until new reinforcements are sent from the rear.

At this time, Wang Zhong saw familiar faces through the bird's-eye view. They were troops drawn from Yegorov's unit. Wang Zhong saw the third battalion of this unit, while Filippov, who was beating the drum, should have commanded the first battalion.

I wonder if he is okay.

----

Filippov watched as his men took down the bodies that had been hung from the street lamps and laid them out on the sidewalk.

Melania and the people who survived the disaster are claiming the bodies one by one.

He could faintly hear the sound of sobbing. Filippov turned his head to look, but could not find anyone crying.

"Perhaps the earth is weeping," muttered Filippov.

Suddenly, Private First Class Valery ran out holding a Proson flag high in the air: "Look, there's a Proson flag!"

Sergeant Misha cursed, "You unlucky thing, come on, give me a horn."

Then the two men tore the flag in half, one on the left and one on the right.

Misha threw the torn flag on the ground, as if he was still not satisfied, and stomped on it madly, stomping on it many times, and finally ended with a spat.

Other soldiers also came over one by one and spat at the flag.

Filippov wondered what the priest would do if he were still alive and faced with this situation.

His battalion no longer had any chaplains, as they had all died on the way to the attack.

Because of the heavy loss of officers, Filippov had to go back to his old job and personally command the troops as a company commander.

Just as Filippov was racking his brains to think, the melody of the cello suddenly came from behind his head.

He turned his head and saw a gray-haired old grandfather sitting among the ruins and corpses, playing the cello.

The cello is perfectly maintained, forming a stark contrast to the devastated surroundings.

One soldier said in broken Melania English: "Grandpa, you are still in the mood to play the violin at this time."

The old man said in pure Ant language: "If there is no music to say goodbye, wouldn't it be more desolate?"

As he spoke, the old man played a sad melody.

Filippov listened for a few seconds and asked, "Rainy season in Castamere?"

"Isn't it appropriate?" the old man asked back, "Now it's raining in everyone's heart, and not a soul to hear."

Filippov nodded, took out his harmonica from his pocket, and planned to accompany the cello's mournful cry.

At this moment, someone held up a walkie-talkie (made in China) and shouted to Filippov: "I heard the third and second battalions talking to the special commissioner one after another! We should be here soon!"

Filippov put away his harmonica, ran over to take the walkie-talkie, and just in time heard the conversation between Marshal Rokossov and Second Battalion Commander Makarov.

Marshal Rokossov: "How are you doing?"

"The people are fine, but we are out of ammunition. We are collecting the enemy's ammunition, but the enemy is also very poor, General! I think as long as we can immediately replenish 20 magazines and four grenades for each of us, we can deal with all the enemies!"

Marshal: "Can't do it, stop and wait for supplies, over."

While Filippov was concentrating on the conversation on the walkie-talkie, Misha shouted, "Okay, gather together. There may be a combat mission."

"Fighting? There are no enemies nearby. Local people also said that all the enemies have run away!" said a corporal.

Misha: "Stop talking nonsense! Gather! Look to the right - together! Look forward -!"

The old man playing the cello stopped and said, "Are you talking about the marshal? Which marshal?"

"Marshal Rokossov! We have many marshals here, but if we omit the names and only mention one marshal, it must be Marshal Rokossov. It could also be Marshal Suvorov, but he has been dead for more than a hundred years!"

The old man looked suspicious: "Will Marshal Rokossov come to the front in person?"

"Yes, he has been commanding us from the plane. If the marshal orders 'mortar fire at coordinates 4-2-4', then we will open fire and we will definitely find the enemy's body on the coordinate grid later."

"The Marshal is the star of victory and a saint. He gets the enemy's location from St. Andrew and then guides us to destroy the enemy!"

The soldiers who had just gathered started talking at once.

Misha: "Enough! Gather! Count!" The soldiers reported one by one, stopping at 75.

There were only 75 soldiers with intact limbs left in the battalion's spearhead company.

Misha: "76! All right, the whole company is here. At ease!"

The soldiers relaxed, and one of them immediately said to the old man, "I saw it with my own eyes. The marshal's plane dropped a cloud of smoke to cover our attack. When we passed through the smoke, I saw it. It was an angel. There were scriptures of St. Andrew nailed to his armor, and six silver nails on his head!"

Misha: “You’re here again!”

"Really! The angel can shoot with the thread cutter in one hand and the sword in the other! He rushes forward while firing and cuts down all the enemies!"

Misha: "The enemy was stunned by our explosive packs. Okay, stop talking. We can hear the sound of the Marshal's engine."

The roar of the Pe-3 engine was heard in the air.

Everyone looked up, but the buildings on both sides of the street blocked their view, leaving only a strip of sky.

Suddenly, a red Pe3 flew through the gap.

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"It's the Marshal! No, it's the Special Envoy!"

The soldiers cheered to the sky.

Filippov held the walkie-talkie: "Special Correspondent Davarish, I see you! Special Correspondent Davarish, I see you!"

The response came from the walkie-talkie: "How is your camp doing?"

Filippov: "We have suffered heavy losses of officers. I can only command the Blade Company myself, but we can still fight! Special Commissioner Davarich, give the orders. We can still move forward!"

"Stay where you are and wait for supplies. Don't worry. There are only the last 30 kilometers left. Melania's rebels can hold on."

Filippov glanced at the bodies lined up on the street, then at the man playing the cello, and hesitated for a few seconds before answering, "Yes, I will complete the task."

Marshal Rokossov: "I know what you saw on the streets, and I understand your anger. But now anger has no meaning except to increase casualties. Only the enemy will be happy."

"Yes, we will wait for reinforcements and supplies, over."

After saying this, he waited for a few seconds, making sure that the marshal had started talking to other troops, before handing the walkie-talkie to the signalman.

Misha: "What did the Marshal say?"

Filippov: "The Marshal asked us to stay where we are and wait for supplies and reinforcements."

Misha: "We can still move forward!"

"Follow orders," Filippov replied.

"Yes."

Misha began to assign tasks and prepare to defend the city.

Filippov took out his harmonica, walked to the old man's cello and nodded.

The old man plucked the strings again - he had just stopped playing after listening to the soldiers talking about the marshal's "miracle".

The sad melody once again echoed over the ruins.

A falcon flew high into the sky, heading towards the Vistula River.

The falcon flew across the land, over the retreating Plossen army, over the blockade outside the capital, through the streets filled with gunfire, and across the Vistula River.

It flew above the ruins where the flames had not yet been completely extinguished, amidst the hail of bullets.

----

Hermann stuck his head out and saw a falcon flying by.

"Isn't this the national bird of Khazaria? How did it get here?" he muttered.

The guerrilla fighter next to him was a professor at Melania National University. He looked up when he heard Hellman's words and said, "Falcons are also distributed in our country, and there are quite a few of them. Seeing falcons now is a good sign. Think about who the King of Kosalia is now?"

Hermann smiled: "Rokossov - that's a good sign indeed. Just one more day of fighting and Rokossov's troops will arrive!"

Professor: “One day!”

He stood up, revealing half of his body, and fired downwards.

Suddenly, a bullet hit the professor in the chest, sending him flying backwards, where he lay in a spread-eagle position in the corridor.

Blood stained the carpet red.

Hermann calmly crawled over and closed the professor's eyes.

He held the submachine gun and glanced at the soldiers in the corridor. The few remaining guerrillas were still firing.

Others fired and shouted, as if the winged cavalry from the Melania Kingdom era were shouting a war cry.

Hellman watched as the shell pierced the concrete wall and shot into the corridor.

The shock wave of the explosion swept through the long corridor and turned into a strong wind by the time it reached Hermann.

Hellman's ears still hurt a little.

He knew that the final moment had come.

Herman strode into the radio studio.

The moment the door was pushed open, a female announcer shouted at the top of her lungs: "This is Melania Capital, we are still fighting! We are still fighting! Who can help us!"

Hellman patted the female announcer on the shoulder, gently but firmly pushed her away, and then sat in her seat.

He turned on the recorder skillfully and said into the microphone:

“I am the leader of the uprising, Hermann. You may have never heard of my name before because I am on the run from the Plossom military police.

“But now, there is no point in hiding.

"The Insurrectionary Committee has betrayed us and has fled the battle. We are holding on to the radio station, but the final moment has come.

“I’m Heilman, and I’m the voice for every Melania who dreams of freedom.

"My faith tells me that resistance is not just an option; it is a duty. I hope this fight will be a new chapter in Melania's struggle, where all resistance groups unite, all become partners in the same trench, facing an enemy that never spares a child, an old man, a stone or a tree.

"I leave no personal legacy. For every Melania who dreams of freedom, for every mother who carries her son on her shoulders, for every father who sees his daughter writhing in pain and crying out in grief after being hit by an enemy bullet.

“My final wish is for everyone listening to the radio to always remember that resistance is not in vain.

“It’s not just about a bullet; it’s about a life lived with dignity and honor. Prison and siege taught me that the battle is long and the road is hard, but I also learned that a nation that refuses to surrender can create miracles with its own hands.

"Don't expect the world to treat you fairly. Throughout my life, I have witnessed how the world has watched us suffer in silence. Don't wait for justice; be justice. Let Melania's dream live in your hearts. Turn every wound into a weapon, and every tear into a source of hope.

“This is my will: do not lay down your weapons, do not lay down your stones, do not forget your martyrs, do not give up your dreams, it is your right.

"We will stay here, in our land, in our hearts, in our children's future. I urge all of you to take care of this land, Melania, that I love to death, this dream that I carry on my shoulders like a mountain that will not bow.

"If I fall, do not fall with me; instead, take from me the flag that has never fallen to the ground. Build a bridge with my blood so that our descendants can rise from the ashes.

“When the storm comes again and I am not among you, please understand that I am the first drop of the wave of freedom and I live to see you complete this journey.

"We will continue to be the thorn in their throats and become a storm that will not turn back. We will not rest until the world knows that we stand for justice. We are more than just numbers recorded in the news!"

Heilmann raised his right hand: "Long live Melania! Long live the motherland!"

(End of this chapter)