Arc of Fire

Chapter 629: Chapter 71 Hello, Your Marshal Staff Express Delivery

On December 2, 915, the 100,000-strong Second Guards Cavalry Army Group of Prosen majestically crossed the ice-bound Valdai Hills River.

The task of the Army Group was to disrupt Prosen’s transportation lines, creating the illusion of encircling the Prosen forces under General Sheeplin, who were in charge of breaking the siege.

Whether the task of creating an illusion was successful or not, this cavalry force of 100,000 could inflict severe damage on Prosen’s supply lines.

If General Sheeplin did not retreat swiftly, his troops might have had to cross the frozen Ante Prairie on foot.

This was hardly better than being surrounded; it was unknown how many would freeze to death on the prairies at minus forty degrees Celsius.

At the headquarters of Sheeplin’s Army Group, General Sheeplin looked at the reports gathered so far with furrowed brows.

Chief of Staff: “I would bet my military instincts that this is a deception operation, probably involving only cavalry troops.”

General Sheeplin said, “Yet, these cavalry will seriously damage our logistics; we already have an extreme shortage of fuel, then that fool Mayer actually airdropped our fuel to the Sixth Army Group!

"We must retreat, or we’ll be walking off the Nan’ant Prairie. Rocossov is a fascinating person; he dispatched cavalry forces to force our retreat and then gave us such a perfect reason for it.

"He has actually given us an illusion; he wants to consume us all.”

The General stood up and paced back and forth in front of his desk.

After walking a couple of rounds, he stopped and turned to the Chief of Staff, “Then let’s make use of Rocossov’s kindness. Report to the Emperor that we are at risk of annihilation.”

"Is this really advisable?” the Chief of Staff asked uncertainly.

"Of course, we are not lying. Allowing the enemy to deploy a large number of cavalry to destroy our transportation lines will result inevitably in our destruction. We can explain it as such later, but now we report urgently that Rocossov has begun to isolate and support.”

General Sheeplin seemed pleased.

The corps commander of the 51st Infantry Army asked, “What about the Sixth Army Group?”

General Sheeplin pressed his hand against his chest, “May the Empire of Prosen be with them.”

The commanders exchanged glances.

General Sheeplin said, “Send the report, though it may not pass. The Emperor might call us with harsh words, instructing us urgently to rescue the Sixth Army Group. If so, we can only hope Rocossov treats prisoners as well as the rumors suggest.”

The Chief of Staff looked at the others and, determined, said, “Alright, I’ll draft the telegram right away.”

The Emperor of Prosen, having read the latest urgent telegram, said to everyone in the war room, “Everyone out.”

Giles asked, “Should I stay behind?”

"No, all out.” The Emperor said calmly.

So, the group filed out of the room.

Outside, Marshal Bryan asked Giles, “The Emperor seems very down lately, as if he has aged ten years all at once.”

Giles replied, “The Emperor has realized that defeat at Abawahan is inevitable. He just can’t accept it.”

Celtic Marshal added, “He wasn’t like this when we retreated from Yeburg last year.”

"Because this time we lost, the chances of winning the war are extremely slim; even if we mobilize immediately, we would only hold our own against the Allied Forces.” Giles also seemed very disheartened.

Marshal Bryan patted his shoulder, “Take heart, there’s still a chance to gain support from the Allied Nations to counter the Secular faction of the Anteans.”

Giles nodded.

At that moment, the Junker officers present exchanged glances, obviously sharing a little secret.

Just then, the door opened, and the Emperor of Prosen walked out of the war room with his hands behind his back, “Order Sheeplin to retreat. But tell him, the retreat can only go to the control line of last August, no, the end of August!”

Marshal Bryan replied, “That should be feasible, our forces are sufficient to withstand any possible counterattack by the Anteans on the actual control line of the end of August.”

The Emperor pointed his right index finger at Marshal Bryan, “You must make sure of it!”

"I guarantee,” Bryan said.

"If you fail, your role as the Army Commander will be finished. You should know I’ve wanted to replace you for awhile; govern yourself accordingly.”

Bryan’s expression was extremely grave.

December 5th, sunny.

Wang Zhong sat as usual in the Pe-3 driven by Amelia, sweeping over the vast prairie.

"It looks like he carefully chose his words, “It looks like the enemy is making a major move!”

Actually, within his enhanced view, he had already clearly seen that these people were preparing to retreat.

Amelia: “If you feel the enemy is making big moves, then they probably are; our witches’ intuition is very accurate.”

Don’t “we witches” me! I clearly have little brothers!

Wait, in the world before crossing over, this didn’t seem to be a problem; it was just about awakening the feminine side within one’s heart.

Wang Zhong forced himself not to think about these things, and continued to observe the ground.

The more he looked, the more certain he became that General Sheeplin’s Army Group was going to retreat, that all the offensive maneuvers at the front were deception plans.

This General Sheeplin, the enemy’s commander, was quite formidable; he decided to leave without any hesitation or dragging his feet.

Wang Zhong suddenly thought—if the Prosen Sixth Army Group surrendered now, and the million-strong force under his command was suddenly released, he wondered if they could catch up to the fleeing Sheeplin Army Group.

Damn General Frederick, why haven’t you surrendered yet! After being humiliated by a cake, you should be quick!

General Frederick started a high fever three days ago, and his headquarters had basically been paralyzed, with each staff member thinking only about surviving the severe cold, completely unable to carry out any staff duties.

There were a few exceptions.

Like the loyal secretary of the Army Group, who insisted on translating the telegrams sent from the Emperor each day and presented them to General Frederick.

Today was no different.

The General, reading the telegram in bed, said, “You know I currently have a fever of 39 degrees, right?”

The secretary replied, “You’ll find the message from above very interesting.”

Only then did the General look at the telegram, and suddenly sat up, reading aloud: “As the Sheeplin Army Group faces the risk of encirclement, the fifteen-day relief operation is officially over. It is hoped that the members of the Sixth Army Group will remember the honor of the Prosen soldiers and fight to the last moment under extremely difficult circumstances.

"Emperor Reinhard

After reading the closing signature, the General’s expression turned dejected: “Although I knew this was going to be the outcome, it’s still so hard to accept when the message actually arrives.”

The secretary asked, “Would you like to reply to High Command and the Emperor?”

The General thought for a moment and said, “Destroy the radio and the Enigma Machine, and say that we’ve run out of fuel supply, and the hand-cranked generator cannot support high-power equipment.”

"This… If we can’t contact High Command anymore, is that okay?”

"It’s fine,” General Frederick said, “High Command won’t give us any valuable orders or intelligence anymore; at most they will just tell us ‘stand firm and there will be a way’.”

The secretary asked, “Are we going to stand firm? There have been cases of frostbite and freezing deaths at headquarters, we really can’t keep fighting.”

General Frederick replied, “Didn’t you hear the recent orders? Stand firm, and there will be a way.”

"Yes,” the secretary took a step back, “then I’ll go and arrange to destroy the code machine and radio.”

"You go ahead.” The General lay down again, pulling the blanket over his head.

December 6, Eagle’s Nest, Heart of the Empire of Prosen.

The Emperor holding the phone: “How are you still stuck so far away? Wasn’t Rocossov supposed to be preparing a diversionary attack?”

"Yes,” General Sheeplin on the other end of the line responded, “our slow progress is due to breaking through enemy blockades. Fortunately, Rocossov’s offensive was launched hastily, involving a large number of cavalry troops, so the resistance we encountered was not severe, but…it still costs us hundreds to thousands of lives every day.”

The Emperor: “I don’t care what your reasons are, bring your troops back from that godforsaken place.”

General Sheeplin: “Of course, I’ll do my best. I named this operation ‘Generator’! The Generator Operation will last for 15 days, mainly to rescue the Sheeplin Army Group, which has relatively scarce fuel and supplies.”

The Emperor with a grim face: “For your plan to succeed, you need to act swiftly, don’t wait for Rocossov to completely consume the Sixth Army Group!”

General Sheeplin: “That’s exactly why I’m calling today, Your Majesty. We need to keep the Sixth Army Group hanging on in the encirclement until December 10, so we can

"Enough,” the Emperor interrupted General Sheeplin, “you never intended to rescue the Sixth Army Group! You just want to do enough to make it look like you tried, your only real concern is whether you can get away unscathed! I never knew you were this kind of person!”

General Sheeplin: “Rescuing the Sixth Army Group was an impossible task to begin with; it requires a lot of artillery, tanks, and infantry, and I only have so many troops. Rocossov is now very strong; if the Sixth Army Group can’t hold on a bit longer, my elite veteran soldiers will be in danger.”

"Alright, I’ll think of something,” the Emperor was actually convinced by General Sheeplin.

He put down the phone, looking at Celtic Marshal, “What do you think we can do now to make General Frederick hold on to the last moment?”

Celtic Marshal glanced at General Moochi, the Armored Corps Director, his gaze lingering on the general insignia on his collar for a few seconds.

However, the old Marshal pushed up his glasses: “I think we can promote William von Frederick to Marshal and bestow him with the Marshal’s baton.”

The Emperor frowned: “Will that work?”

"It’s the only reliable method among many unreliable ones,” Celtic Marshal said with a wry smile, “But honestly, the chances are very slim, and the Anteans might capture our Marshal soon; is that alright with you, Your Majesty?”

The Emperor considered for a moment and said, “Let’s do it, I’ll write the appointment myself!”

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