Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

"Don't you dare talk to me like that while you're in your Ranger uniform!" the officer suddenly roared. "If you don't want to wait here for the Germans to come and kill you, get up there and do something!"

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Do you want to lie here forever and wait to die, or do you want to get up and do something?

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Get up! Do something!

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"Sergeant! Sergeant!—"

"Can you hear me, Sergeant?!"

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"Damn it, what was I thinking about just now..." Everything suddenly turned into darkness. Jonathan shook his head, trying to see the gray, lumpy objects directly above him.

"Get up, do something." He muttered these words to himself, his head still spinning.

"Sergeant!...Sergeant!—"

The faint shouts in his ears seemed not to have woken him up yet.

He instinctively looked around and saw several enemies and his brothers lying nearby, some silent, others writhing in agony on the ground.

He squatted down, stretched out one hand, and slapped his face hard.

Well, I finally managed to get myself back on my feet.

"Hmm, did someone just call me...?" He was about to look up when a dark figure fell solidly in front of him, but it didn't frighten him.

"Sergeant! Over here!" Above him, a young man wearing a green steel helmet was lying on the broken edge of the upper floor, waving at him.

"Karl! Are you all alright?" Jonathan didn't seem too dazed from the fall.

"No problem, sir! It's like fighting with some thugs!"

“Okay.” He pointed to the green-hatted men lying on the ground beside him and gestured with his fingers to the helicopter on the street outside—the name he had just gotten from the enemy.

"There are wounded down here! Quickly deal with the enemies up above, I'll go find a way to take care of that bird!"

"As you wish, sir!"

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Turning his head, Jonathan saw a familiar-looking man in black lying on the ground like a dead pig. He ripped the submachine gun off his body and fired several shots at all the men in black around him.

"I owe you, brother."

He slowly stepped over the collapsed outer wall and jumped into the trench that had been dug in the ground.

Outside, the roar of bullets enveloped the filthy shelter like a thunderstorm. The sergeant knelt on the ground and slowly crawled forward, groping around for anything he might need by the dim light of the fire—a flashlight was out of the question to avoid being discovered.

Unbeknownst to him, he had reached the end of the trench. Ahead was a slope connecting the trench bottom to the road, and on the slope was a tram pushed into the middle of the street. The sergeant lay prone on the ground, slowly inching his way up the slope like an earthworm—just like that day in Normandy last year, when he hid behind a small mound and crawled slowly, and if he raised his head even slightly, a bullet would rip off his helmet.

Suddenly, a powerful blow to his back slammed him back to the ground, followed by two feet firmly pressing down on his hands, rendering him unable to move.

"Don't move! Give me the password!" A voice with an interrogative tone came from behind the sergeant.

Jonathan didn't say anything at first. He tilted his head and saw a foot stepping on his wrist—the boot looked familiar, and the trouser leg was a similar color to his military uniform.

"I'm talking to you, kid!" the interrogator sounded nervous. "Speak up if you don't want to die!"

"Don't be nervous, guys!" The sergeant spread his fingers, raising them slightly. "I work for Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam! U! S! Got it?"

"Did you hear me clearly?" It seemed that there were two people behind him whispering to him.

"Uncle Sam? Right?"

"Yes! Uncle Sam! U! S! Us!"

Without saying a word, the two feet that were stepping on Jonathan's wrists were removed.

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Jonathan turned around and saw two dark figures crouching in front of him, leisurely shining their flashlights at each other's faces. He could clearly see that the guy in front of him was wearing an olive-green helmet that was almost the same color as his own.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you here to help us?"

"Of course, but you have to give me a massage first." The sergeant looked at him with a face full of anger, but also with a wicked grin.

"Ah, I've already apologized!" The soldier smiled a little sheepishly and pointed upwards at the plane that had suddenly started roaring with the sounds of bullets and chainsaws again.

"Let's get straight to the point. You've come all this way, you must have a way to deal with the birds in the sky, right?"

"Well! If I had a way, this guy would be finished by now." The sergeant stretched out his other hand, pointing to the building he had come from. "Here's what we'll do! My men are in there!"

He then pointed to the opposite side of the street, in the opposite direction from the buildings.

"I'm planning to go over there and see if there's anything useful! Are you guys coming with me, or going to help my guys?"

Do they have heavy weapons?

"I wasn't there just now, but I'm not sure now! But helping them is definitely better! I have a few more children injured!"

"No problem! Good luck!"

After speaking, the sergeant looked up again, staring at the bird, and took a grenade from his body.

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"Calling Ghost Owl! This is Captain Joanna! Tavin Squadron is nearly wiped out. Immediately begin fire on the building at 3 o'clock! Please respond!"

"Owl, listen up! Machine gun ready!" Inside the swaying helicopter, Walker excitedly grabbed the control stick and slowly turned the nose of the helicopter to the side.

"Come on, buddy! Now our bronze medals can turn silver."

Suddenly, a loud bang like a firecracker echoed outside the cockpit. Walker felt a sudden numbness in his hands on the control stick, as if it were about to fly away from his palms. The helicopter swayed slightly with his trembling hands before returning to stability.

"Damn it! What's going on?!" He thought his car had really been caught by Sunderland's grappling hook.

"Hey," his partner in the back said, "there's an enemy running down the street right there."

"You son of a bitch!" Walker jerked the control stick, the helicopter twisting and gracefully tracing a semi-circle in the air. "Captain Joanna! Ghost Owl calling! Enemy infantry are running down the street toward the building at your 10 o'clock position! The target may be armed with anti-tank weapons! Eliminate them immediately!"

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On the muddy ground in front of the building, Jonathan was taking difficult steps, quickly scanning the ground for any possible winning hand, while scrambling and crawling towards the dark window.

Just as he was about to reach the window, a huge, round white spot of light threw his dark shadow in front of him!

The sergeant didn't know where the surge of energy came from—perhaps the excitement of a prey taking the bait, or the desperate struggle at the gates of hell—but he nimbly leaped, smashed through the broken window frame, and fell into the pitch-black room.

Without pausing, he sprang to his feet. He had barely taken his first step deeper into the building when the shrill scream of a chainsaw and the deafening crash of shattered bricks and stones pursued him like a ravenous wolf.

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"Calling Ghost Owl! This is Lieutenant Hills! Leave that brat who ran into the building to us! You guys move on to your other tasks!"

"Yay, great, great..." Walker, sitting in the helicopter, suddenly felt euphoric. "You bunch of guys running around on the ground, giving me all sorts of useless orders..."

"Don't be angry," his partner began to comfort him. "It looks like Captain Joanna's suppressive fire isn't enough; let's add some fuel to the fire."

"Okay, wait for me to turn around... Hey! What's that?!" A bright shooting star suddenly rushed to the right of the helicopter!

Walker didn't waste any time. He pulled the control stick, and the plane floated away like a light leaf. The dazzling navigation lights drew several colorful arcs in the air, looking particularly arrogant.

"Ha! You want to take me out with a rocket launcher, kid?" Walker, his face full of arrogance and excitement, called to his partner. "Come on! Back! Aim at that building the captain told us to take down! Smash the bastard!"

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The faint crackling of submachine guns, like venomous snakes slithering through cracks, seeped into every room, and into the ears of Jonathan, who was hiding somewhere, filled with anxiety.

"Come on... Looks like I'll have to be buried with you guys today..." He was hiding in a corner, carefully checking every inch of his body, preparing for a desperate fight.

Suddenly, the commotion outside the building became strange. The sergeant had a bad feeling and tried to look out through a bullet hole in the wall. It looked like smoke from a rocket launcher, just like the one fired from the black-clad man's rocket launcher he had used at the beginning. A thick, curved, and deformed rope made of smoke was hanging on his side, and the other end was in the building where Karl and the others were.

Immediately afterwards, the bird that had been hanging in mid-air landed steadily on the "rope," and the swinging gun barrel and searchlight were aimed at the window over there.

Oops……

Immediately afterward, a chainsaw-like hissing sound erupted. The sergeant didn't even bother to look; he abruptly pulled back to the ground. He kept his eyes tightly shut, afraid to open them, one hand pressed firmly against his helmet, muttering something incoherently.

He heard shouts coming from the stairwell next door, so he leaned against the door and slowly squatted down.

"Hmm, hmm... Dad's got a lot of free time..."

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