Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 236 Good news comes frequently
During Morin's recuperation at the field hospital, the sounds of gunfire in Amiens gradually subsided.

The main force of the Brittany Expeditionary Force had broken out to the south, but they retreated too hastily and did not have time to take everyone with them.

When General Mackensen's First Army pressed in from the west, completely sealing off the last gap, nearly three thousand Brittany soldiers were still trapped in this city that held nothing but despair for them.

Most of these people were wounded soldiers who could not be evacuated in time, as well as some soldiers who were unwilling to abandon their comrades.

They were divided and surrounded in several blocks southwest of Amiens, and their communication with the outside world was cut off, leaving them completely isolated.

The Saxon soldiers, tasked with launching the final assault on the area, cautiously advanced along the ruins after the order to attack was given.

"Hey, Hans, do you think these Gallic allies are stupid? They know they're surrounded, why don't they surrender?"

A young soldier crouched down behind a collapsed wall and spoke to the veteran beside him.

The veteran, known as Hans, was cautiously aiming his rifle at a grand theater standing amidst ruins across the street. Upon hearing this, he merely snorted coldly.
"Stop talking nonsense and be careful! These guys are no pushovers. Last night, the Third Company was caught off guard and they managed to wipe out almost half a platoon by sneaking out of the sewers!"

The young soldier shrank back, not daring to say another word.

Soon, a man who looked like an officer ran up from behind and gestured to them and the surrounding Saxon soldiers.

"Prepare to attack that theater up ahead! The engineers have already blown a hole in the outer wall, so get yourselves on your guard!"

As the officer spoke, several soldiers from the general's guard, each armed with a modified MG08 heavy machine gun, followed behind him.

For the final attack on this area, the participating troops also committed their elite forces.

At the officer's command, several MG14 light machine guns borrowed from the training assault battalion deployed around the area opened fire simultaneously. The dense bullets struck the second-floor windows of the theater and the nearby walls, kicking up a trail of dust.

"Go, go, go!"

At the officer's whistle, dozens of Saxon soldiers leaped from their bunkers and rushed swiftly toward the breach that had been blown open.

However, they had only rushed halfway when several tongues of fire suddenly spewed out from the windows on the second and third floors of the theater, which had been quiet.

"Da da da!"

The Brittany's machine guns also opened fire, and the interwoven barrage of fire instantly swept the first few Saxon soldiers to the ground.

"Get down! Find cover!"

The attacking soldiers fell to the ground, frantically searching for anything that could stop the bullets.

The light machine guns responsible for suppressing fire immediately turned their fire towards these windows, but more and more gunfire also rang out from various windows.

The real battle had only just begun when the veteran, the young soldier, and their comrades, with the assistance of the general's guard, stormed into the theater.

The interior structure of the theater is far more complex than that of ordinary residential houses.

The spacious lobby, the crisscrossing corridors, and the countless private rooms and backstage areas all became excellent defensive positions.

The Britannian soldiers who remained here were almost all wounded, but there was no trace of fear in their eyes.

They all knew they had no way out, and surrender was not an option for these isolated soldiers.

"First squad, from the left! Second and third squads, follow me up to the second floor from the right corridor!" a Saxon platoon leader shouted.

However, no sooner had he finished speaking than a dozen Britannian soldiers suddenly appeared in the circular corridor on the second floor of the hall.

From their elevated position, they relentlessly unleashed their rifles and grenades, captured from the Saxon soldiers, upon the Saxon troops below.

"Boom! Boom!"

The grenade exploded in the small hall, shrapnel flying everywhere, and several Saxon soldiers fell down screaming instantly.

"Damn it! There's an ambush on the second floor! Suppress them!"

The Saxon soldiers immediately launched a counterattack, with the plate-armored supermen of the general's guard quickly setting up machine guns and firing wildly at the second floor.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out throughout the theater.

The sounds of shouting, screaming, and explosions mingled together, creating a scene reminiscent of hell on earth.

The battle descended into a bloody stalemate.

Every room, every corridor, requires lives to be lost.

A Saxon lieutenant, leading a platoon of soldiers, finally managed to get up to the second floor.

They had just kicked open the door to a private room and hadn't even had a chance to see what was inside.

Then they saw a Breton soldier, his body wrapped in bandages, grin, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained with blood, and then suddenly pull the pin on the last grenade in his arms.
"For Her Majesty the Queen!"

"boom--!!!"

A devastating force erupted from the small private room.

An hour later, the Saxon commander in charge of the attack in this area looked ashen-faced as he watched the constant stream of casualty reports from his men.

"An hour! We've suffered nearly three hundred casualties! And we've only managed to capture part of the first and second floors of the theater?"

He slammed his fist against the wall of the room and roared at the officer beside him:
"What the hell kind of war is this? Are they trading our soldiers' lives for a bunch of lunatics?"

The adjutant and other officers also looked helpless.

"Sir, these Britannians are fighting to the death, and the theater's terrain is extremely disadvantageous to us."

"The situation at the post office is similar; we simply cannot advance without incurring heavy casualties."

The regimental commander paced back and forth in the command post, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

For the Saxon army, which had already essentially captured Amiens, these unnecessary casualties were entirely avoidable.

He could no longer allow his soldiers to be wasted in street fighting against a group of remnants.

"Let's ask our superiors for instructions."

He took a deep breath and made a decision.

"Tell them that our troops encountered fierce resistance while clearing out the remaining enemy forces, our advance was stalled, and we suffered heavy casualties! We request..."

He paused, looked up, and glanced at the enormous shadow hovering in the sky like a mountain range.

"I request air support from armored airship L29!"

After learning of the heavy casualties suffered by the attacking force, the regiment's superiors agreed to the request for support and transmitted the request to the airship via radio.

In the bridge, Captain Schneider looked at the marked area on the map, nodded, and said:
"The rate at which ammunition is being consumed these days has far exceeded the Air Force's pre-war estimates. And these Army guys really don't treat our shells like money."

Despite his complaints, he still issued the order without hesitation.

"Attention, all gunners! Target: the theater and post office complex in the southwest urban area! Prepare for a full-scale attack!"

"Notify friendly ground forces to move out of the strike range to avoid friendly fire!"

The massive L29 armored airship slowly adjusted its attitude. The several huge 203mm main gun turrets on its belly began to slowly rotate, their dark muzzles aimed at the last resistance zone below.

Inside the theater, after the Saxon attacking forces retreated once again, the gunfire gradually subsided.

A Britannian officer leaned against the corner of the wall, panting heavily.

His left arm was ripped open by shrapnel, leaving a deep gash that exposed bone; blood soaked through the makeshift bandage.

"Who has any water left?" he shouted hoarsely.

A young soldier next to him handed over the last bit of water from his canteen.

The officer took the drink greedily, then looked at his equally exhausted and wounded brothers around him, a hint of despair flashing in his eyes.

They have been holding out here for who knows how long.

Ammunition is running out, the number of wounded is increasing, and even the bandages for bandaging wounds are exhausted.

The Saxons' offensive outside was getting fiercer and fiercer, and it looked like they were about to give up.

"Sir, will we be able to wait for reinforcements?" the young soldier who handed him the water asked in a tearful voice.

The officer remained silent.

Reinforcements? Their main force had already fled; there were no reinforcements to be found.

He was about to say something to comfort the young soldier when a low, suppressed rumble suddenly came from overhead.

The sound grew louder and louder, as if some enormous monster was approaching from the sky.

All the Britannian soldiers in the theater instinctively stopped what they were doing, and then looked up through the large hole in the theater's dome, blasted open by artillery fire, and saw a huge shadow that covered the entire sky.

The war behemoth that had been circling over Amiens for two days was now slowly descending, almost hovering above their heads.

"It's a Saxon airship!"

"What does it want to do?"

A strong sense of unease welled up in everyone's heart.

The next second, they knew the answer.

On the belly of the airship, several turrets with 203mm main guns simultaneously spewed out destructive flames.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The deafening roar of the cannonball shaking the entire earth.

Several heavy high-explosive bombs, leaving long trails, struck the theater and the adjacent post office building with precision.

"Boom——!!!"

A deafening roar, more terrifying than any previous explosion, followed.

The sturdy brick and stone structure was as fragile as paper in the face of a 203mm shell.

The entire roof of the theater was instantly ripped off. Immediately afterwards, the load-bearing walls and columns supporting the building broke apart piece by piece in the violent explosion.

The entire building collapsed with a crash, like a block that had been stepped on by a giant.

Countless bricks, steel bars, and timber, mixed with human flesh and blood, were swept into the sky and then fell like a torrential rain.

The Britannian soldiers inside the theater were buried alive in the grave they had chosen, before they could even utter a scream.

On the street, the Saxon soldiers who were organizing the attack fell silent as they watched this scene unfold.

The L29 armored airship did not stop there.

After destroying the main buildings with its main guns, it then used its mounted bombs to carry out several rounds of carpet bombing of the area.

As the smoke and dust from the explosion gradually dissipated, the neighborhood that once housed several buildings had been completely flattened, leaving only a few huge craters emitting black smoke.

The battle is finally over.

The Saxon soldiers responsible for clearing the battlefield cautiously entered the ruins.

They dug dozens of survivors out of the rubble.

Most of the surviving Britannian soldiers were disoriented by the shockwave of the explosion or had their limbs crushed by the collapsing buildings, leaving them completely unable to resist.

Most of them, though not killed directly by the shelling, were actually on the verge of death due to the serious injuries.

With this, the last resistance in Amiens was completely wiped out.

As the Battle of Amiens came to a close, even more startling news arrived from the direction of Saint-Quentin.

After several days of fierce fighting, the Saxon Second and Third Armies successfully encircled and annihilated the main force of the Gallic Fifth Army in a pincer movement.

Except for one corps that escaped due to timely retreat, the rest of the Gallic Fifth Army was almost completely annihilated.

In this battle, the Saxons even used the 420mm 'Big Bertha' siege gun, which was originally intended to bombard the Liège and Namur fortress complex.

However, the Gallic soldiers of Saint-Quentin were given a thorough taste of this terrifying war machine, which the two fortress complexes had never experienced, and it played a decisive role in the battle.

The victories at the battles of Amiens and Saint-Quentin meant that the Saxon Empire had completely breached the northern defenses of the Gallic Republic.

From Amiens to Paris, the capital of Gaul, the land is flat and there are no natural barriers to defend it.

Even more fatally, the annihilation of the Gallic Fifth Army and the retreat of the Britannian Expeditionary Force created a huge gap on the left flank of the entire Gallic front.
General Headquarters of the Gallic Army.

Marshal Joffre and his generals were gathered around a huge sand table, their faces solemn and gloomy.

"The left wing... the left wing has completely collapsed!"

As an officer adjusted the troop deployments on the sand table using a lever, he spoke up:
"Two Saxon army groups could easily break through this gap and head straight for Paris!"

The command post was deathly silent.

Everyone knows what this means.

However, amidst this atmosphere of despair, another staff officer in charge of the southern front brought entirely different news.

"Reporting to the Marshal! Our offensive in Alsace and Lorraine is progressing smoothly!"

"Although we were suppressed by the Saxon armored airships, our forced deployment of anti-aircraft magic arrays to the front line proved to be extremely effective! We successfully shot down one and severely damaged another in the battle!"

"Our Third and Fourth Armies have also made breakthroughs along the Verdun-Metz line, and it is even very likely that they will coordinate with the First and Second Armies to cut off the Saxons' central defenses in one fell swoop!"

"In the Mediterranean, although we are temporarily blocked by the Saxon fleet's artillery fire, once the main fleet passes through Gibraltar and reaches the Mediterranean, and joins up with the North African fleet, we can turn the tide!"

(End of this chapter)