Arc of Fire

After waiting a while and as he was about to call again, a response came through the radio, which could be heard throughout the plane via the intercom.

“This is Wild Wolf, go ahead.”

The radio operator glanced at the squadron commander.

The commander spoke, “Wild Wolf, please use the Panzer IV’s main tank gun to fire a Smoke Bomb and mark the priority targets. Bald Eagle out.”

There was silence for a few seconds before the reply came, “Understood. Marking priority targets, Wild Wolf out.”

Kluge’s face was somber as, although he had lost command of the entire offensive, he was still the officer who understood the situation on the ground best, so coordinating with the Air Force had been left to him.

Kluge made a gesture, and immediately a staff officer came over, “Yes, sir?”

“Select the Panzer IV crew with the best gunnery skills to mark the 153 highlands with the Smoke Bomb. Aim for their artillery observation post if possible.”

“Yes, sir!”

Inside the bombing formation’s lead plane, the observer reported, “There’s no sign of the marker Smoke, should we prompt them again?”

The formation commander replied, “Patience, the ground forces are cumbersome. They’re like a big elephant; it takes time for information to travel from the brain to the toes. Not as quick as us in the Air Force.”

The pilot in the cockpit laughed and said, “It’s really like that. The army is just like this, slow. We’ll have to wait. Right now, they’re at a loss against the Ante People’s new tanks, and can only rely on our bombers and anti-aircraft gun battalions.”

The commander smiled and said, “In the Carolingian campaign, the ground forces had only those little tanks that looked like toys. They needed dive bombers as soon as they encountered any solid bunkers. Back then, the sky was full of calls from the ground forces.”

The commander’s words were suddenly interrupted by the observer, “Marker Smoke sighted, please bank right!”

The plane instantly tilted, and then the pilot said, “Marker Smoke confirmed, I’m going to make a turn.”

The Do 217 started to circle clockwise, finally aligning their heading with the marker smoke.

The pilot commented, “There’s a southeast wind outside, the plane is a bit shaky.”

In fact, he didn’t need to say it, everyone in the cockpit could feel the plane shaking, causing the compass on the commander’s map table to “walk” around, moving towards the edge of the table with each vibration until the commander grabbed it just before it fell off.

The observer said, “Heading is good, we’ll reach drop position in 20 seconds, final check!”

The mechanic announced, “Guidance system is fine, racks normal! Ready for the drop!”

The observer counted, “Ten seconds to the drop!”

But suddenly, the gunner in the dorsal gun turret was hit, blood spraying back onto the side gunner sitting behind him.

The side gunner yelled, “We’re under attack! We’re under attack!”

Then bullets penetrated the steel plate above his head, piercing directly through his skull and incidentally hitting the arm of the commander and navigator sitting next to him.

The pilot looked back in horror, and in that moment, the left wing of the aircraft was repeatedly hit, the stress structure instantly collapsed, and the entire wing was torn off.

A MiG-3 zoomed by the bomber with its cut wing, sparks flashing from the exhaust ports on the cigar-shaped nose of the engine.

Next to the MiG-3’s cockpit, a neat row of red stars was painted, each one representing a downed enemy plane. Surrounded by red stars, the pilot peered through his goggles at the disintegrating bomber with a smile on his lips.

As the MiG-3 swept past, another Do 217 was hit, but this time the Ant Pilot’s work was not so precise; the bullets only perforated the tail of the Do 217, damaging the steering system and incidentally blowing off the left tail fin’s control surface.

This wingman was unable to control its direction and traced an arc as it fell towards the ground.

After the attack, the two MiG-3s quickly climbed to regain altitude. The lead plane rolled upside down; the cockpit canopy facing the ground as it carefully searched below for other worthy targets.

Through the cockpit, one could see an entire squadron of IL-2 Sturmoviks flying low over the plains.

The IL-2s formed a line, strafing the ground with their 23 mm cannons and machine guns while dropping 50 kg bombs as they flew over the earth—small for aerial bombs but packed with explosive power comparable to heavy artillery shells.

From above, the IL-2s flying in formation looked like plows turning over a field full of Prussians, with the dust from the bombs resembling upturned soil.

General Moochi stood on a knoll south of Orachi, watching the sudden onslaught of the Ante Air Force.

“So, Duke Meyer was boasting again, wasn’t he? When I received the report that Ante Air Force activity had increased, I thought it was mainly around the capital. How come there are so many active Ante Air Forces here in the southwest?”

The chief of staff shrugged, “Maybe they were transferred from the direction of the capital?”

“No, the Ante People wouldn’t relax their protection of the capital.” General Moochi was silent for a few seconds before adding, “It’s probably just the Air Force bragging; they didn’t inflict as much damage on the Ante Air Force as they claimed. They certainly haven’t destroyed 3,000 planes on the ground.”

Chief of Staff: “After all, it’s the Air Force. It’s normal for them.”

Moochi clicked his tongue, “With the Air Force’s mess, I guess the next offensive will have to be postponed, right?”

“I’ll go and confirm.” With that, the chief of staff turned and walked towards the radio communications vehicle.

General Moochi stood with his hands behind his back on the hillock, gazing at the city of Orachi that he had relegated to “the rear.”

Beside him, the Prussian armored units in marching columns were passing continuously, pushing southward.

About fifteen minutes later, the chief of staff returned, “The losses for all units are not as big as we feared, but it’s true that time is needed to reorganize the offensive.”

General Moochi: “Then let’s start with a heavy artillery bombardment of Orachi, keep it up until midnight.”

“Midnight?”

“Of course. In the era of trench warfare, it was commonplace to have fire preparations that lasted for days. Why make a fuss when it’s only till evening? The preparation area is not just the urban district, but also those troublesome woods around it.

“The enemy’s heavy artillery must be hidden in the woods, there’s no need to put in the effort to locate them, just level them. Turn the whole forest upside down.”

The chief of staff turned his head and gave some specific operational instructions to the staff, and then asked General Moochi, “When do we attack then?”

“We’ll attack as soon as the fire preparation is complete, of course.”

“At midnight? A night attack?” The chief of staff exclaimed in surprise.

General Moochi laughed: “Don’t worry, by dawn, the entire city will serve as our light for the attack. The entire city will burn, bright as day.

“What ‘White Horse General’, what ‘defensive genius’, humph!”

The general smiled: “With such a disparity in force that drives one to despair, what significance does individual talent bear? Let him wither away here. I’ll include him in my memoirs, along with that ‘genius’ of a tank bunker.”

Having said that, General Moochi turned and walked toward his command vehicle: “We continue to advance, tonight we will camp at Meishikin!”

At zero hour in the early morning of August 6th.

Wang Zhong rose from the ground and looked out of the window: “Has it finally stopped?”

Outside the window, the flames painted everything red.

Wang Zhong: “Guard! Go see what’s caught fire!”

The guard came in and reported, “General, everything’s caught fire! The whole city is burning!”

Pavlov was about to speak when he heard the rumbling of engines: “Ours? No, we don’t have that many engines. The enemy’s? An armored night attack?”

Wang Zhong looked out of the window, feeling goosebumps forming on the back of his neck: “No, this isn’t a night attack, the fire has turned everything into daylight!”

Ludmila had just woken up from unconsciousness when she heard the sound of engines.

She looked outside and saw Prosen tanks advancing along the highway that passed through the city, their headlights on, pushing toward the city.

“Natalia! Donya!” she called out loudly to the nuns and the Guardian Army assigned to her, “Are you all right?”

No one responded.

Ludmila turned to look for the Divine Arrow and its launcher, then realized that half of the attic she was in had been destroyed. Divine Arrow, nuns, and Guardian Army were nowhere to be seen.

At that moment, she heard the voices of the Guardian Army defending downstairs: “Prayer Hand Miss, flee quickly! We’ll hold off the enemy with the machine gun! Head to the church headquarters!”

Ludmila got up, picked up a Mosin-Nagant rifle from the floor, and staggered through the attic door, running down the stairs.

By the time she reached the first floor, the machine gun had already opened fire. The Guardian Army, seeing her descending, shouted, “Take the back door! Keep running along the main road! You’re more important than us! Go, quickly!”

Ludmila nodded and dashed towards the back door. The moment she burst onto the street, she heard the sound of a tank gun behind her.

The machine gun fire immediately died down.

Ludmila frantically began to run, and after taking five or six steps, she heard the machine gun firing again, like a phoenix reborn from the ashes, holding back the enemy forces.

She turned back but found that the buildings blocked her view, and she couldn’t see those brave gunners.

She could only keep running.

Wang Zhong used the phones that were still working to check the situation and made an immediate decision: “We can’t hold this position, it’s meaningless to try. The enemy’s main force has bypassed us and is heading south.”

Pavlov: “How to break out? With the current situation…”

Wang Zhong: “No, the enemy’s night attack has actually given us an opportunity. If they were simply surrounding us not attacking, I wouldn’t know which way to go. They’re now attacking the city, and even with the big fires illuminating, they will fall into chaos. In fact, the fire itself is a source of chaos.”

In such chaos, if someone could highlight all the enemy positions, knowing where they are, that person would have a great advantage.

Of course, it’s not enough to annihilate the enemy, but creating confusion among them to enable an escape from the encirclement should be no problem.

Wang Zhong began to issue orders: “Vasily! Alert Panzer 422; if it isn’t broken, it must get to the headquarters’ entrance at all costs!”

Vasily didn’t ask questions and started the call immediately.

Wang Zhong: “Signal corps, send a message to Duke Meishikin, saying we’re preparing to break out in the confusion and hope the duke can provide some sort of interception—just hoping. After sending that message, destroy the radio and burn the codebook.

“All headquarters personnel, whether they are clerks, staff officers, or even cooks, must arm themselves!”

Wang Zhong paused because he saw Nelly enter, carrying a Mosin-Nagant that was taller than her.

He spouted offhandedly: “It goes well with your boat-shaped cap.”

Nelly smiled.

At that moment, Vasily exclaimed, “I’ve contacted Panzer 422, they’re on their way! Accompanied by six T34s!”

Wang Zhong laughed, “Good! Everyone! It’s not the time for noble sacrifice yet. See you in Shepetovka!”