CANNON FIRE ARC

Chapter 856: Chapter 8 Crossing the Battle Lines_2

He had to open his eyes once again, seeing through tears his right hand already wrapped in bandages.

At this moment, the army medic noticed that Fritz was awake, and leaned in, “Commander, if you’re awake, please get up quickly and command the troops! Enemy artillery preparation is done, they’re surely going to attack!”

Only then did Franz get up and ask the doctor, “How’s my hand?”

“It’s saved. The shrapnel was stuck between the tendons and nerves, any closer and you would have been permanently disabled. Now with a year’s rest, it can recover.”

“That’s good.” Franz changed the subject, “What about my staff and deputy officer? They should have been with me at the division bunker.”

“They’re probably gone. All survivors of the bunker should have been sent here, but look, only you, a single officer with red shoulder insignia, is here.”

Franz: “How bad is the situation?”

“I’m a doctor, not a military strategist! I only received 40 hours of military training, and the instructor said that as long as I don’t hurt our own people with a pistol, it’s a victory. I can’t answer these military questions.” The doctor spread his hands and went to tend to other patients without waiting for Franz’s response.

Franz could only get up, stumble out of the tent, and then he saw a massive fireball rising at the east of the medical facility, on the Prosen Position.

“God, it’s the Urban Assault Gun.” Franz muttered, “Quick! Organize the troops to advance toward the area bombed by Urban, based on past experiences, areas bombed by Urban will become breach points!”

However, either no one noticed the red insignia on Franz—or mistook the color as blood—but either way, Franz shouted for a long time with no response from anyone.

So he turned back into the medical facility, grabbing the telephone while the doctor watched in astonishment, “This is Franz, on the 54th Division’s position, Army Group Headquarters please respond!”

A roar came from the other side of the phone: “Even the Army Group Commander cannot tie up my channel! Quickly transport the wounded from the front line! Also, I’m running low on plasma, could you let the wounded donate some?”

“Organize the donations quickly!”

Franz hung up the phone, looking at the doctor, “Is this reasonable? I actually can’t find a way to contact my own Corps Command!”

Army medic: “Perhaps you can ride a motorcycle back, provided that the Anteans haven’t sent their Cavalry and light Armored Troops behind us like before.”

Franz: “How much damage will our troops suffer due to losing command while I return to Headquarters?”

“Then perhaps you can find a division or an army command post nearby. My responsibility is to save your life, which I have done. Saving the entire Army Group is your mission.”

Franz shook his head, dashed out of the wooden medical facility, and saw the wounded squatting outside waiting for treatment, and shouted, “I am Franz, the Army Group Commander, I need someone to escort me to the nearest command post, who can still fight?”

Several wounded soldiers quickly stood up.

Franz asked one lieutenant, “Why are you lying among the wounded? I don’t see any injuries on you?”

“I was stunned by the blast, General, and my head is still buzzing. I don’t know what you plan to do, but count me in.”

Franz: “Good, pick up your weapons, our target is the closest division headquarters, or even a regiment would do!”

————

Henry watched the rising mushroom cloud, turned back to his own troops and said, “The enemy and their shelters have gone up to the sky! What’s left is up to us! Let’s break through the enemy lines in one fell swoop! Our homeland is waiting for us!”

As he spoke, the tanks roared to life, their exhaust ports emitting billowing black smoke.

Ever since the year before last, when Antean tanks start, they always belch black smoke, presumably because the refinery rushed to meet the oil refining KPI, not fully extracting the impurities in the oil.

Vehicles burning imported Federation gasoline produce much less black smoke.

Tanks emitting billowing black smoke advanced to the due west.

Podoliskov, poking his head above the turret, said to Henry, “Excited? Just thirty kilometers left to home!”

“Not excited. We’ve been stuck thirty kilometers from home for half a year! At first, I dreamt of returning home every day, now I’m used to it.”

As he spoke, Henry pulled out an apple, peeled a slice with his knife, and continued, “The morning the Prosens broke into my hometown, my breakfast was two apples.”

Podoliskov looked at the apple in Henry’s hand, “A special product of your hometown?”

“No, it’s an Antean apple. I just eat an apple every morning to remind myself of that day.”

At that moment, the soldiers of the Melania People’s Army marching alongside the tank enviously shouted, “You guys, getting to go first!”

Henry: “Yeah! We’re the first to head home!”

After they overtook the infantry column, Podoliskov asked, “What do you use to confirm you’ve reached home? Can you just smell the air or something?”

“Of course not, I think it’s probably by seeing signs. Seeing road signs and billboards in the Melania Language indicates—”

Suddenly, a “whoosh” sound came from behind the Prosen Position, a long tail trailing from the Revenge for the Heroic Brother tank flew over their heads and landed among the large group marching behind the tanks.

The explosion and the rising dust instantly obscured the troops marching behind.

Podoliskov: “The Prosens have gotten smart too, starting to prepare counter-fire and executing rapid fire assaults.”

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