Arc of Fire

On November 26 at 1640 hours, Captain Hosette of the Fifth Armored Division of the Prosen Army’s Asgard Knights, holding a handset, said, "Relying solely on our current state, we can’t capture the beachhead.

"We need artillery, enough infantry, and time to fix those tanks stuck in the mud, ensuring a sufficient number of tanks."

On the other end of the phone, General Frederick of the Sixth Army Group sighed, "Because of the damn mud, most of our artillery units don’t have a single base of ammunition left. The good news is, I’m pulling the entire 41st Armored Army to block off the beachhead that threatens our rear.

"The enemy’s armored troops are like a fleet of pirate ships, raiding along our supply lines. Damn it, raiding is supposed to be a founding principle of the Imperial Navy’s strategy, and now the Imperial Navy has existing fleets, while our enemies have started raiding with ’land cruisers’!"

When the United Kingdom first developed tanks, they were intended as land cruisers, and now the Anteans’ use of them perfectly matches the original development intent.

Hosette could hear General Frederick’s sigh and spoke up, "Although we can’t capture the beachhead, we are ready to intercept the enemy’s tank forces, and we will definitely inflict heavy damage on them!"

"No tanks will return," General Frederick said grimly. "These tank units won’t engage in a standoff with you; they will prey on our forces lacking anti-tank capabilities until they are destroyed or run out of their last drop of fuel."

Hosette fell silent.

He recalled the Antean soldiers they had encountered before reaching the beachhead.

Hosette had to admit, although these Antean soldiers were untrained and poorly equipped, their will to fight was no less than any Prosen Soldier.

They were formidable enemies.

The most formidable enemies.

Captain Ivan climbed out of the turret and stood next to the engine cooling hood to ask his driver, "Is there any hope?"

Looking at the engine, the driver shook his head, "No, it can’t be fixed, not even if we go back to the workshop. The engine must be replaced. It’s been pulling hard, with rain and mud."

Captain Ivan patted the top of the turret and glanced at the three kill rings on his gun barrel, "How many trucks have we destroyed today? Ten trucks for one kill ring, how many more should we add?"

The loader shook his head, "I don’t know, just like a person doesn’t remember how much bread they’ve eaten since birth; I haven’t kept count of how many trucks we’ve destroyed. Let’s add five for now."

And with that, he took out paint and a brush from the turret, beginning to draw rings on the gun barrel.

Soon, five new rings were added, giving a total of eight conspicuous rings on the barrel.

Under the tank, the tank operators began to complain, "When our tanks broke down, Captain, you didn’t let us draw rings. You rushed us to move on!"

Captain Ivan smiled, "That’s because we still had tanks that were combat-worthy and we had to seize the time to destroy more of the enemy’s facilities.

"Now we don’t have tanks."

The crew chief of the second vehicle asked, "What do we do now? Seek shelter with the locals and wait for the general to counter-attack? According to last year’s script, as winter comes, the general should start a counter-attack. It shouldn’t take that long."

Captain Ivan looked up towards the west and said, "No, our mission is to disrupt the enemy’s logistics, to relieve pressure on Abawahan. Based on last year’s experience, the enemy will mount a fierce surge just as the mud season ends, and that will be the most dangerous time."

The captain’s gaze swept across the faces of the warriors, "So we must continue to fight, even if it’s only to destroy one truck, it could change the tide! Of course, as tank operators, as a technical branch, now is a reasonable time to choose to preserve our lives and wait for new equipment.

"So I’m asking you to decide for yourselves what to do. Those who decide to stay can go and find the locals. Those who decide to come with me can follow me!"

At that moment, a voice came unexpectedly from the nearby bushes. Stay updated through

"Who’s there!" The tank operators raised their submachine guns towards the bushes.

A local emerged from the bushes, holding up his identification high, "I’m with the guerrilla, we’ve been fighting after being dispersed, with help from the locals. I suggest you don’t take risks and instead lie low for now, plan for the long term."

"Our mission…"

"Your mission is to disrupt the logistics, I know, the guerrilla has been doing this all along. Without tanks, you won’t do any better than us; you are tank operators, not infantry. Davarish, listen to me, you can use the Papasha, and so can I, but I can’t drive a tank!"

Captain Ivan, holding his submachine gun, looked at his soldiers and said, "If only the military chaplain were here; alas, may Saint Andrew bless him, may the Motherland bless him. Let’s vote. Those who agree to accept the protection of our comrade from the guerrilla and wait to return to the troops to continue operating tanks, raise your hand!"

They looked at one another, no one raising a hand.

The guerrilla fighter became anxious, "Davarish! We really can’t operate tanks, think about the training you’ve undergone! If you die here, so many tank operators will need to be retrained. You’ve still got combat experience!"

Captain Ivan bit his lip and raised his right hand, "Our comrade from the guerrilla has convinced me."

One by one, everyone raised their hands.

"Good, unanimously approved. We’ll go to ground and wait for new tanks, then we’ll settle scores with the Prosen devils!"

Guerrilla fighter: "Quick, this way! The Prosens are hunting for you, but they’ve been ordered to find tanks—we can evade them!"

Captain Ivan jumped off the tank, carrying the captured Prosen MP40 submachine gun, and briskly caught up to the guerrilla fighter.

The other tank operators followed immediately.

A few dozen steps out, several more guerrilla fighters emerged from the diagonal, all armed with guns.

"I convinced them!" the leading guerrilla fighter shouted, "Don’t shoot!"

The muscular leader then put down the MP40 and jerked his head toward a narrow path: "This way, hurry! The Prosens are conducting a dragnet search, they’re very close."

Captain Ivan nodded.

The group, blending together, moved quickly down the path when suddenly, gunfire erupted in the distance.

Captain Ivan was about to grab his gun but was stopped by the guerrilla leader: "Don’t worry, it’s our people drawing the Prosens’ attention. They will lead the encircling enemy away."

Captain Ivan nodded, took a moment to grasp what that meant, and then asked, "What about the ones drawing attention?"

The guerrilla leader, face stern: "We were meant to have been sacrificed in the Prosens’ attack fourteen days ago. Having lived fourteen more days is enough."

Captain Ivan started to speak but hesitated, then just patted the guerrilla leader’s shoulder.

The group continued to move forward in the rain.

The distant gunfire persisted, like birds in a fairy tale that live only for a day, singing with all their might.

All at once, without warning, the birdsong ceased.

Captain Ivan slowed his pace slightly, glancing toward the direction from which the last sound came.

At that time, the guerrilla leader started whistling.

It was a powerful tune, yet it carried a sense of sorrow.

Captain Ivan, curious, asked, "What tune is that?"

"It’s a song taught to us by an Allied Forces commando team that parachuted down a few days ago, supposedly sung by the local guerrillas during combat in the Kingdom of Sardinia. We’ve got a poet in our squad who writes for the newspaper, and he came up with new lyrics.

’Ah, friend, goodbye, ah, friend, goodbye, ah, friend, goodbye then, goodbye then, goodbye then.’"

All the guerrilla fighters sang together: "That morning, waking from a dream, invaders stormed into my hometown. Guerrillas, oh, take me away, I can bear no more..."

Suddenly, the rain grew heavier, as if intentionally muffling everyone’s footsteps.

So the light yet resolute singing was completely drowned out.

October 26, 20:30, Ante Army Abawahan Front Army Headquarters.

"This is Commander Panfilov of the Sixteenth Army Group," Pavlov introduced to Wang Zhong.

Commander Panfilov saluted Wang Zhong: "Commander Davarish, our Army Group is at full strength; we have eighty thousand young men from the plains near Ceres, all from the secular faction’s core in the pastoral areas. My lads are well-trained and well-equipped! Unlike temporary infantry divisions, you can use us in the most dangerous sectors!"

Wang Zhong nodded: "You have finally completed disembarkation. To get you here we dismantled the pontoon bridge, leaving the naval infantry on the opposite shore."

Wang Zhong was unaware that Nelly was also at Landing Point One on the West Bank.

"In fact, we just lost a vital support point two days ago. Look here." He approached the map and pointed directly at the Train Dispatch Yard, "Here, it’s the largest reinforced concrete building complex on the first line of defense. The enemy had stopped their attack previously due to lack of ammunition, and it’s not clear how well they’ve resupplied, but they’ll have to attack at some point."

After Wang Zhong finished, Pavlov immediately took over, continuing: "If we can take the support point and the surrounding blocks, you’ll need to hold out there as long as possible. I can’t tell you until which date, and we predict the Prosens will mount a resolute counter-attack when the ground freezes over while the temperature is still not too low. Your troops will withstand the shock together with the Nameless Highlands to the north."

Wang Zhong reclaimed the conversation: "The Nameless Highlands are defended by my elite forces of the First Mobile Group Army, which should be able to form a mutual support angle with your forces."

Commander Panfilov saluted: "Understood, recapture the Train Dispatch Yard, then hold out as long as we can!"

Wang Zhong: "You will receive artillery support from the entire Front Army. The follow-up troops will send you support as soon as they arrive. Of course, if the Train Dispatch Yard cannot be taken, you can also reinforce the second line of defense along with the original defenders."

"Rest assured, we will take it," Panfilov saluted Wang Zhong, "I shall leave now."

"Eat before you go. The battlefield is right there; it’s not going anywhere," Wang Zhong said softly, but with an undeniable commanding presence.

Commander Panfilov could only nod: "Yes."

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