Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

"Behave yourself! You son of a bitch!" The US military officer made the NKVD move aside a bit, then raised his fist again, cursing angrily as he punched the pig's belly a few more times.

"I'm calling you! — Damn it! — Bullshit! — Still won't admit it! —"

The officer became more and more aggressive as the beating intensified, as if the words "Japan," "America," and "Britain" that the pig had just used were an insult to his intelligence.

But just as he was about to deliver his fifth punch, the pig's screams suddenly changed. The officer looked up and saw the pig's Adam's apple suddenly contract sharply. He quickly moved aside, knowing that it might be something else entirely.

Immediately afterwards, a large mouthful of yellowish-green liquid, accompanied by vomiting sounds, gushed out of the pig's mouth, splashing onto the ground like a large cup of water. The stench of bile instantly filled the basement like dry tinder igniting a raging fire.

"Oh, damn it, don't think I can't treat gastrointestinal problems." NKVD quickly removed his hand, wiped the bile that had spilled onto the pig's clothes, and prepared to continue pulling his teeth.

“Hey, wait a minute, man.” At this moment, the US military officer suddenly interrupted him.

Turning around, I saw that the pig wasn't reacting at all; its eyes were rolling back, looking like it was about to die.

"Stop fucking playing dumb! Stop fucking playing dead!" NKVD yelled, immediately slapping the pig a few times, but he still hung there silently, like a piece of wood, except for the slight warmth on his cool cheeks, which showed that he was still a person.

"Hmm?" NKVD touched the pig's carotid artery and found that its pulse was also wrong.

"Put him down." He gestured to a soldier to untie the rope binding the pig. The moment the rope came loose, the pig actually went limp and fell face down on the pile of bile it had vomited, like a sandbag.

"Looks like he really was knocked unconscious. What bad luck." The US military officer shook his head, whether out of helplessness and regret or disbelief that this lump of meat was so fragile.

“Alright, then I’m sorry, Major… Jess.” NKVD picked up his gloves again and greeted the US military officer. “This idiot probably won’t wake up anytime soon, so we need to deal with him. I hope you’ll take notes about what just happened and tell your general about it. I don’t know if what this thing vomited out is true or false, but I also hope that you won’t embellish the story when you present it to your superior.”

“Alright, sir, then…”

"Please." NKVD gestured to the soldiers, who escorted the major out of the basement.

"Tsk..." He looked indifferently at the wounded pig on the ground and curled the corners of his mouth.

"What if you deliberately knocked him unconscious or killed him just now? Major, huh..."

Chapter 68, Section 108: Foggy Berlin

There was still some time before sunrise in Germany, and the dark sky was beginning to peek out at white. The land, already approaching winter, could not be kept at a pleasant temperature by the heat of the battle. The falling rain made the fighting increasingly cold, so staying in a room to warm up by the fire was perhaps the best decision.

……

In the small town of Straussberg, a town of 10,000 people, located 32 kilometers east of Berlin's city center, there are two houses standing side by side—what's the difference between them? The guards standing in front of their houses are quite different from the Soviet soldiers passing by—both wear green steel helmets, but the rifles they carry are different surnames, one is Gat and the other Mo.

This is strange. This is the Soviet-occupied area. Why are there houses guarded by American troops here for no reason?

It's very simple. As mentioned earlier, the US military sent people to the Soviet-occupied area to participate in the interrogation of prisoners. This room was definitely prepared for this group.

Right now, several busy U.S. military officers are gathered around a table, chewing their sandwiches while each holding a small notebook filled with notes.

"Alright, it's your turn, Jess. What were the instructions for the person you were in charge of?"

“Well, isn’t that how it is?” Jess replied. “They say they’re from Britain, and then they say they’re from Japan, or rather, they call Japan Area 11. They come from there, build a broken door, and that’s how they come here.”

"Britain? Shouldn't it be Britannia?"

"Oh right, right, I still haven't figured it out." Jess scratched his head. "Why did that bastard suddenly start calling his den Britannia?"

"I don't understand either, Mingming keeps using 'Britain,' 'British,' and 'Tommy' when chatting with British gentlemen."

"Maybe these people sing 'Rule, Britannia' every day, and over time they've turned their own country into this?"

[Author's Note: "Rule, Britannia!" is a popular British patriotic song.]

"Oh ho? So now these guys in Berlin, with their stinky voices fished out of a cesspool, singing like dog shit, are going to fight the Russians with guns and cannons? And they're even holding off the Soviet army?"

"Hahahahahahahaha!—"

The doubts raised by Britannia were not dispelled by the laughter; the bitter taste lingered in everyone's nostrils, impossible to cough up or swallow.

"Alright, alright! Let's get back to the point... So, everyone the Russians captured claimed to be from Britannia, right?"

“That’s right, the unit numbers all point to a unit called ‘41st Army Group,’ so the possibility that they’re lying is also…”

“And when he was talking about his group,” Jess interrupted, “I noticed he added a place name between the number and ‘group’: Hokkaido…”

"Mine is also from Hokkaido, the 23rd Hokkaido Group."

"Mine is the 18th Siberian Brigade."

“Oh, damn it…” Jess wiped his face. “Siberia, Hokkaido, what the hell does that have to do with the British Isles?”

"Hey, Africa, Southeast Asia, Canada, Australia, even just one would do? You're telling me right in front of me that the place where Russians eat snow is part of the Commonwealth?"

"Hmph! If the Japanese heard this, their emperor would probably be so angry that he'd rush out of the toilet with his pants up and strangle these guys who talk nonsense."

"But to be honest, we should really study this army group. Otherwise, we can just throw around names like 'Hokkaido' and 'Siberia,' but we can stick to the number 41 and not lie."

"Right."

……

"Have you gotten anything out of them about that teleportation portal they mentioned?"

"No, nothing at all. The Russians only have a lieutenant at most, and they know absolutely nothing about the principles of teleportation."

"Yes, let's just say the door is in Japan, or more specifically, in the Tokyo concession."

“When did Tokyo Nima let us rent it? Huh?” Jess chuckled. “Didn’t we treat it like our own toilet bowl?”

"Interesting. So, this large contingent of British troops has gone to the Far East? I don't believe Ike would lie. And what kind of big news wouldn't you want to create in front of us, my all-knowing journalist friends?"

"Hmm, I wonder if the Russians can arrest a few more. If there's a chance, interrogate them until they're dead, then interrogate them relentlessly."

"Ha! No problem!"

"So, what methods did you all use to get them to back down?"

“The Russians came to pull my teeth and nails, and then I punched that beast in the stomach a few more times,” Jess said, describing his actions. “But that piece of trash couldn’t take it.”

“Looks like your partner is an old hand, Jess. I had their soldiers bring a towel and a bucket of water, had the poor guy lie on his back, put the towel over his face and poured water on him. Goodness, he confessed in no time.”

……

……

"Hello, gentlemen, a telegram from Frankfurt." The communications officer from the next room came over. "Lieutenant General Clay has already set off by plane to meet us. Due to the weather, he is expected to arrive at 8:30 this morning."

“Okay, okay, no problem.” Jess dismissed the communications soldier. “There’s still a little over an hour left. Quickly summarize our situation and write it down so we can report to the general later.”

……

At this very moment, hundreds of kilometers to the west, over Frankfurt, a C-47 transport plane painted with a white star has just climbed above the clouds.

Lieutenant General Lucius Clay, Eisenhower's second-in-command, embarked on this nerve-wracking journey with a cabin full of accompanying officers and guards.

In his hands, he was looking over several sheets of paper he had taken out of his bag, seemingly very anxious about what was on them.

This is a stack of photocopies of telegrams. They may not seem very important, but they carry an important mission—to dispel the rising tensions along the border between the US and Soviet territories.

Because of the Soviet warplanes crossing the border two days ago, the troops originally deployed to the US-Soviet border are still there. What's worse, it seems that there are more and more Soviet troops on the border...

The Berlin affair is far from over. Will Germany, Europe, and even the entire world be forced to stand still under the guns of war once again?

Putting those worries aside for now, the lieutenant general wanted to read the telegrams one more time.

……

The first one was sent at 4:15 PM on October 29, 1945. It was sent by the US military headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany, and received by the command headquarters of all US corps and division units stationed in Germany.

"The military train bound for the Soviet-occupied zone to pick up the Berlin garrison will depart from the American-occupied zone at 18:00 today. All troops stationed in Germany must pay close attention to the security of the border line and the area around the railway. Without orders from headquarters, no unit is allowed to cross the border line to attack Soviet troops, nor is any unit allowed to move towards the border line from within the American-occupied zone without headquarters approval."

……

……

Next is the second one.

"October 30, 1945, 2:31 PM, Sender: Military train 'Easy'; Receiver: U.S. Army Headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany."

"We were refueling our locomotives at the Erfurt train station when a Soviet soldier tried to force his way onto a train carrying captured tanks while we weren't looking. One of our soldiers stopped him. Immediately afterward, a large number of armed Soviet soldiers, as if pre-planned, ran out of the station and confronted our soldiers on the platform. In the end, the Soviets photographed the captured tanks and then let us go. There was no exchange of fire, and neither side's soldiers were injured."

—Colonel Reuben Tucker, Commander of the 504th Parachute Regiment.

……

The lieutenant general received the third telegram.

"October 30, 1945, 2:45 PM, Sender: U.S. Army Headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany; Recipient: Sixth Army Headquarters, Major General Edward Brooks..."

"Just received a message from the military train Easy: our soldiers were being searched by Soviet soldiers at Erfurt train station. The Soviets may be planning some action on the military train or even the US-Soviet border. Please send troops to the border immediately and pay attention to movements from the east."

There's something funny in the bottom column of the main text.

"General George Patton, upon receiving news of the train being inspected, rushed to the telegraph room in a fit of rage and drafted this elegant paragraph while suppressing his anger."

……

The lieutenant general now saw the fourth and fifth telegrams, both sent immediately after the third.

"October 30, 1945, 10:48 PM, Receiving party: Headquarters of the 14th Army..."

“1945年10月30日，14时51分，接收方，第100步兵师指挥部……”

The content was identical to that sent to the Sixth Army headquarters, all ending with a sentence that seemed to be General Patton's deliberate sarcasm.

It's important to understand that the timing of these telegrams was crucial. They were meant to convey to the Soviet generals that "the US military is causing trouble for us on the border because we inspected their trains," rather than "the US military is preparing to cause trouble for us on the border because something happened in Berlin."

But this is not enough.

Clay picked up the sixth telegram.

"October 30, 1945, 16:24, Sender: U.S. Army Headquarters in Frankfurt, Germany; Receiver: General Dwight Eisenhower."

"The border garrison at Verdek reported that at approximately 16:20, four Soviet fighter jets intruded into our airspace without permission. They were driven out by our fighter jets and ground warnings. There was no exchange of fire between the two sides in the air or on the ground."

Yes, this is the telegram that Lieutenant General Clay received on the general's private plane radio that day; all the words are identical. Unlike the original, this one is a photocopy with the same postmarks indicating that the telegram was sent and archived. With this, it can be clearly proven that the telegram Clay received in front of Ike and Zhukov that day was not a forgery.

After reading it, the lieutenant general put the photocopy back in his bag and took a deep breath.

Outside the window, the faintly lit sky lacked any azure hue, nor did it display the warm glow of dawn. Rain pattered against the cockpit glass of the C-47, easily blown to the edges of the window frame by the airflow, yet unable to detach itself from the transparent mirror. The raindrops, like moths to a flame, fluttered to and fro with the rhythm of the heartbeat, unwilling to leave the view the lieutenant general had directed out the window.

Can the East and the West loosen their staring eyes based on these few potentially pale and powerless pieces of paper?

Section 109, Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Roulette of the Streets

Meanwhile, fighting continued unabated within Berlin.

On a main street, Lieutenant Lemilia had just stopped again, huddled close to a wrecked truck with his soldiers, watching their comrades on both sides of the street slowly move forward.

"This is the last building, comrades, clean it up inside!"

The soldiers were quick to act. The first few grabbed their PPSh submachine guns, opened fire with a burst of bullets like firecrackers, and then pulled the pins on their RG-42 grenades. After a few flashes of light in the room, they went deeper into the building.

Lemilia sat down, rubbing the clumps of mud off his hands as he watched more infantrymen spread out, aiming their rifles at the windows of the small building and firing sporadically upwards.

Soon, the faint sound of vomiting blood could be heard. The lieutenant saw a black-clad corpse lying face down in the window at the top of the building. Then, a yellow-green sleeve stretched out and waved.

"Company Commander, it's all done!"

"Clean up the house, and come out and assemble when you're done! Everyone else, clean up the battlefield!"

The comrades dispersed in response, and the lieutenant walked along the street where the battle had just ended, sighing as he did so.

……

The truck wreckage did not belong to the enemy in the city, but to a Soviet ZIS truck painted green.

But this was only part of the street; steel dolls reeking of electronic components lay scattered everywhere. Soldiers' corpses littered every brick and tile, their black uniforms and khaki uniforms laid out in a haphazard pattern.

Further ahead, besides an assault gun whose turret had been severed from its hull, and an infantry fighting vehicle reduced to a mangled cardboard box, there were two T-34 tanks still smoking. The two hatches on the turrets had been open for too long, forming the crooked ears of this dead steel Mickey Mouse. Behind them, on the hulls, were two blackened KMF badges, silently depicting two scenes of "farmers pushing their stubborn oxen" and "farmers and oxen sharing a pillow."

……

……

Lemilia couldn't help but spit.

All of this happened rather suddenly.

……