Arc of Fire

At the Agricultural Machinery Station, Prosen’s 20th Armored Grenadier Division’s Third Battalion Commander Hansen lifted his head, a motion which sent a waterfall of dust cascading down from the brim of his cap.

"Arau!" he shouted loudly. "The bombardment is over, the enemy is sure to come up! They can’t just bombard us without attacking in broad daylight!"

The Prosen Armored Grenadiers immediately sprang into action, rushing from their bomb shelters to their battle positions.

Next to the battalion command post was a machine-gun position. Two machine gunners rushed into the bunker, one flipping over a tripod that had been toppled by shellfire, and the other rapidly pushing sandbags, which had been displaced by explosions, back into proper position.

Finally, they took out a machine gun from a wooden box buried in the ground—this way they didn’t have to carry the cumbersome machine gun from the bomb shelter, nor worry about delicate parts of the gun being damaged by shelling.

No sooner had the two machine gunners set up the machine gun by working together than they were hit by something.

Battalion Commander Hansen watched wide-eyed as the machine gunners fell, only hearing the ’biubiu’ sound of bullets hitting the sandbags.

After a brief hesitation, he thought of a most terrifying possibility and yelled out, "Silent weapons!"

Rocossov’s forces were equipped with new silent weapons. Since the first confirmed usage of these weapons in July this year, only the "Prince" Rocossov’s Imperial Guard would employ these weapons on a large scale.

Battalion Commander Hansen continued to shout, "We are under attack! The enemy is using silent weapons! The documents issued by the High Command mention listening carefully for an extremely subtle sound, like a whip cracking against a horse’s behind!"

After shouting, the commander heard gunfire, but it wasn’t the whipcrack-like sound described in the High Command’s documents. Instead, it was the sound of Prosen machine guns ripping through canvas.

This was followed by the sound of hand grenade explosions.

Battalion Commander Hansen shrank his neck, staring around in panic. Without the sound of enemy gunfire, he felt as if his forces were fighting against the air—no, against ghosts.

Next, he heard Antenese, not far from himself.

Every hair on Battalion Commander Hansen’s body stood on end, and the back of his head tingled numbly.

The Antean elite infantry was nearby! Hearing the voices meant they were less than 50 meters away!

The next moment, the Red Flag appeared.

The banner of the Ante Army, which had continued from the war with the Conqueror until now, was of blue and white color. Only Rocossov’s Imperial Guard would use such a blood-red flag.

The Imperial Guard First "Red Flag" Mechanized Infantry Division!

Many legends about this red flag circulated among the Prosen Army. Some said it was dyed red with the blood of the soldiers that Rocossov sacrificed. Others claimed it was stained with the enemy’s blood.

Regardless of the truth, now the blood-red banner was flapping before Battalion Commander Hansen’s eyes, rustling in the wind.

Immediately following, soldiers carrying rifles with thick barrels appeared!

By this time, Battalion Commander Hansen had been seized by fear so deeply that he always imagined the Antean soldiers’ eyes were aflame.

He always felt he was being scorched by those intense gazes, gradually decaying, turning into mud.

In this moment, this proud Prosen officer, old Junker nobility, who had never doubted the righteousness of "securing living space," for the first time thought that perhaps this war was a mistake.

It was also the last time he would think so.

The Anteans raised their hands, and the guns with the thick barrels fired. The sound was exactly like the whips the Commander-in-Chief’s briefing described, as if whipping a horse’s behind.

Except the frequency of this whipping was so dense, it seemed as if it would not stop until every hair on the horse’s butt was stripped clean.

Battalion Commander Hansen felt as though he was being hit by numerous heavy punches. He could even feel his bones breaking under the impact and his flesh being crushed.

---

After opening fire, Filippov realized he might have killed a high official.

"Damn it," he cursed.

One of the new soldiers who had charged up with him asked confusedly, "What’s going on?"

Filippov replied, "I think I’ve accidentally killed a big shot. We’ve lost a lot of potential intelligence."

Saying this, he jumped into the high official’s hiding spot, only to be faced with someone dressed like a staffer. Instinctively, he pulled the trigger.

"Damn it!" That exclamation and the bullets hitting the Prosen staffer happened simultaneously. The firepower of the Thread Cutter was especially strong, directly caving in the staffer’s chest. There was no need to check to know that he definitely wouldn’t survive.

Filippov released the trigger and shouted to the others in the command post, "Don’t resist any further! I don’t want to kill anymore! I’ll have to write a self-critique if I do!"

After shouting, he remembered that this group probably didn’t understand Antenese and yelled out in Prosenese, "Raise your hands! Surrender and you won’t be killed!"

There were three people left in the command post, one of whom was likely a guard with only a Private’s rank. Everyone obediently raised their hands.

Filippov continued, "Now face the wall, raise your hands above your head, and put them against the wall."

The Prosens all did so.

Filippov tilted his head slightly and said to the new recruit, "You, go gather the documents before they get a chance to destroy them!"

The new soldier immediately moved forward and efficiently collected all the documents.

"Maps! More maps! The map is the most important!"

Filippov was commanding.

At this time, the recruit actually blocked most of Filippov’s field of fire, so if the Prosens wanted to make a move, they would likely succeed.

But both Prosen officers were standing properly with their hands pressed against the wall, showing no intention of doing anything. The private first class seemed to think about making a move, but after glancing at the two officers, he chose not to act.

Perhaps according to the Prosen officers’ code of conduct, making an escape attempt in a POW camp was only to be done within the camp, and it was clear they were not in one yet.

After the recruit had collected the items, Filippov ordered again, "Get some rope and tie them up. We need to take them back for interrogation! If we haven’t caught that big shot or the one who looks like his deputy officer, capturing these two will do!"

"Where would I get rope..." the recruit said with a troubled face.

Filippov retorted, "Can’t you use their belts? And get their pistols while you’re at it."

"Oh, right."

At that moment, there was a noise nearby, and Filippov turned his head to see his comrade Mikhail carrying a Red Flag coming over, "Filippov! Almost everything is settled! Now there’s just one room where the enemy is stubbornly resisting. We’re waiting for them to change their machine gun barrel." Read the latest on

Filippov immediately looked toward the direction of the machine gun fire, "That way?"

"Yes, it seems to be the office of the Agricultural Machinery Station’s chief engineer. There’s a machine gun blocking the stairs leading up."

"Get Aleksei to throw a bomb up there."

"Aleksei has fallen," Mikhail said, "Sergey too. All our good grenade throwers are gone. No one can throw a bomb up there now, and it’s hard to toss a grenade through the window. We can only wait for them to change the barrel."

Filippov muttered to himself, "If it were Vasily, he would now... Mikhail, relay my orders. Get a cabinet or something in the room below to act as a prop, elevate the bomb, and then blow up the floorboards under the machine gunner’s feet!"

Mikhail was stunned for a moment, then he laughed heartily, "Right, we can do that. I’ll go set the charges!"

With that, he turned and ran off with the Red Flag.

Filippov turned back to see that two of the three prisoners were already pantsless, their trousers having slid to the ground.

The third appeared very shy, making the recruit’s task of undoing his belt somewhat difficult.

Filippov eyed the Prosen officers’ underwear and couldn’t help commenting, "Why would soldiers wear pink heart-print underwear? If the troops saw this, it would destroy their morale."

The two Prosen officers didn’t understand, so they had no reaction.

The recruit, however, burst into laughter.

At that moment, the sound of an explosion from a bomb echoed in the distance, and the continuous machine gun fire abruptly ceased.

The entire position fell silent.

Filippov turned to look outside, listening carefully, and after confirming there was no more gunfire throughout the position, he set down the Thread Cutter and took out a flare gun to load the signal flare.

That’s when Mikhail came running back, "It’s done! The entire Agricultural Machinery Station and the neighboring repair factory are ours! Fire the signal now."

Filippov finished loading the signal flare, raised the gun high, and pulled the trigger.

The projectile soared into the air trailing smoke, burst open in the sky, transforming into red stars that slowly drifted down.

After firing the signal flare, Filippov put away the flare gun and asked Mikhail, "Have you seen the Priest?"

"No," Mikhail’s expression sank, "He may have fallen. I’ll have everyone look for him."

Filippov nodded his head.

The recruit shouted, "Report, all three are tied up! It’s secure!"

Filippov replied, "Good! I have a new task for you. Run and take the documents we just captured back to battalion headquarters directly to the commanding officer."

"Yes!" The recruit slung the Thread Cutter on his back, hung the captured briefcase in front, and dashed out of the command bunker into the rain.

Filippov then loudly commanded, "Prepare the defenses immediately! Enemy counterattacks could arrive at any moment! Also, see what we can use from the enemy’s equipment."

A Master Sergeant ran over and shouted to Filippov, "We captured a mortar! And 20 shells!"

"Good, I remember Petro knows how to use a mortar, put him in charge."

"He’s wounded, and the stretcher team has already taken him down," the Master Sergeant replied. "We no longer have anyone who can operate a mortar, so I came to ask you, Commander Davarish."

Filippov took a deep breath, "Mortar shells just need a good whack on the primer to activate; you can throw them directly as bombs. Bring the 20 shells to me, I’ll throw them."

"Got it."

The Master Sergeant ran off, and the battalion Priest stumbled out of the rain and into the command bunker, "Damn, I almost thought I wasn’t going to make it."

He then pulled out a Luger pistol, "See, captured from the Prosens. I smashed his head with my steel helmet. Damn it, this fight felt different from the ones before!"

Filippov grunted, "What’s so different? Could it be worse than Loktov? At Loktov, we were reduced to just a few hundred men. We’ll hold here until the General launches a counterattack and defeats the Prosens! We are not going anywhere!"