Arc of Fire

"I played a little trick," Yakov gestured on the map, "Based on our intelligence, the enemy’s divisions line up here and here. Our shelling likely hit the headquarters of the Ninth Armored Division or the Fourteenth Armored Army. So, I placed our forward artillery positions in front of the operational area of the 20th Armored Grenadiers of the 41st Armored Army."

Wang Zhong laughed, "So if the enemy wants to figure out where our shells are coming from, they’d first need to locate an army scale? No, to coordinate between the Fourteenth and Forty-first Armored Armies, they would need to find the command post of an Army Group."

Yakov clapped his hands, "Right! That way our artillery has enough time to retreat. By the time the enemy coordinates and possibly launches an attack on our artillery positions, the area would be long deserted."

Wang Zhong clapped his hands continuously, "Great, great! Your handling has a bit of Vasily in it."

"Really?" Yakov seemed pleased, "Being a third as good as the senior Vasily would be enough for me."

Popov chuckled, "A third? No, no, just by not being mouthy, you’re already at a third of Vasily. He’s just a little clever, but he’s really good at songwriting."

Just then, the phone rang—it was the red telephone.

Picking up the receiver, Chief of Staff Pavlov said, "Front Army Headquarters, okay, hold on."

After covering the phone’s microphone, he looked towards Wang Zhong, "The landing forces need to depart now, so they can arrive near the landing site by tomorrow morning."

Wang Zhong looked at the time, "It’s this late already; I should rest. When I wake up, the landing operation will just be starting. Although I don’t know what I can do for the landing forces from a command post over a hundred kilometers away, I still feel it would be better to be awake."

Amelia suggested, "You could take an airplane to oversee them."

"If it really becomes necessary, I’ll do that," Wang Zhong replied, "Not now though. Yakov, get the hot water bottle."

Although it wasn’t below zero yet and to Ante it wasn’t considered cold, the continuous rain made the air very humid, so the perceived temperature was quite low.

Sleeping at night without a hot water bottle meant that the bed would take a while to warm up, and one might catch a cold before that happens.

Yakov sighed, "Alright, alright. Here I am, making plans and acting as an orderly. Ludmila and Miss Nelly better get here soon or I’m going to end up as the commander’s maid!"

Wang Zhong stated, "No, you’re far from Nelly. When she’s here, every morning my clothes are warm and crisply pressed, something you’ve never done."

"You could have told me that earlier," Yakov complained briefly, putting down the paperwork in his hands and heading to the boiler room to get Wang Zhong a hot water bottle.

Wang Zhong stood up, "Then I’ll leave first. Call me if there’s an emergency."

"Prosens don’t attack at night; you can rest easy," Pavlov said.

Wang Zhong responded, "You can never be sure; they might have developed some sort of night vision equipment, better safe than sorry."

On Earth, the Sturmtigers once worked on night vision equipment towards the end of the war, but they were already too weakened to mass produce it.

Moreover, early infrared equipment was hardly impressive in performance.

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But in this timeline, even the Fritz X was available at the start of Barbarossa; who knows what Prosen might pull out.

Having said his piece, Wang Zhong yawned and left the Headquarters.

The next day.

At the Ante Abawahan Front Army Headquarters.

Pavlov glanced at the clock, "Hmm, someone said he’d be awake this morning, but he went back on his word."

Popov remarked, "Let the Commander sleep a bit more; lately, he’s been scouting the front lines, making plans, and continually speaking to commanders heading to the front, dining with them... he deserves some rest."

Pavlov responded, "Saying goodbye to those heading to their death is an exhausting task, which I’ve long known. That’s why I stepped back and let the Commander handle it.

"I have a feeling that the week just after freezing will be the toughest days; I hope the Commander is prepared."

Popov added, "A cornered beast fights hardest, a desperate struggle is the scariest. By the way, tell me honestly, did you intentionally delay the arrival of the Commander’s wife and the young maid to the front line?"

"How could I do that?" Pavlov said, "The two of them are sensible and know the priority; they didn’t want to use up the precious transport resources."

"Alright then. I’ll take your word for it."

At that moment, a staff officer with a telephone receiver reported, "The artillery group on the East Bank is asking whether to start the artillery preparation."

Pavlov and Popov exchanged a look, and the latter gestured for him to proceed, so Pavlov inquired, "Has the Navy said they’re ready?"

"They have."

"Then fire the artillery, don’t wait for the Commander to wake up."

October 24, 0630 hrs, West Bank of the Valdai Hills River, Landing Site No. 1.

Of course, the Prosen forces stationed here had no idea that this location was designated as "Landing Site No. 1" by Admiral Rokossovsky.

Today, as usual, Corporal Hans Rote was going to deliver coffee to the forward artillery observation post.

Although he was a corporal, Hans Rote’s Kar98k rifle had never been fired.

When he occupied Moravia, he was a sergeant, delivering ammunition and bread to the troops every day.

He was still a sergeant when they invaded Melania, delivering ammunition and bread to the troops every day.

During the Carolingian campaign, he finally got a promotion and began delivering coffee to the troops.

And he continued doing so until now.

Because of the rain, Sergeant Hans Rott’s usual BMW motorcycle couldn’t move through the muddy ground, so these days his vehicle had been replaced by a mule, riding this beast early every morning, carrying a load of coffee-filled bottles and jars clinking merrily toward the front lines.

It was said that the clinking sound had prompted some of the younger, naughtier recruits to start calling Sergeant Rott "the scavenger."

Today, Sergeant Hans Rott, clinking merrily, walked toward the riverbank, his unused 98K rifle polished bright, hanging on his back, its stock repeatedly bumping against the saddle in rhythm with the mule’s steps.

The mule climbed up the hillside by the riverbank, the wide expanse of the Valdai Hills River unfolding before the sergeant.

Today, the visibility was poor, with the entire river surface shrouded in a layer of fog.

The light rain continuously fell on the sergeant’s face, bringing chills.

The sergeant sneezed several times and, perhaps to warm himself up, he took out a flask, taking a swig of the strong liquor he had obtained yesterday from a cellar near the supply station—the owner of the liquor had vanished, possibly dead.

The burning sensation of the liquor spread from his throat, the powerful effect of Ante’s liquor making the previous chill disappear after just one gulp.

The sergeant took another swig, just about to revel in this pleasurable moment, when a whistling sound came from the sky.

Although Sergeant Hans Rott had always been delivering supplies, delivering coffee, he was, after all, a veteran who had survived many battles, and he immediately realized it was the whistling of artillery shells.

Realizing it was one thing, and reacting correctly was another.

Sergeant Hans Rott’s first thought wasn’t to dismount and take cover but to grab his rifle.

Thus, he missed the best chance to dismount, and a shell crashed not far behind him, the massive explosion and blast frightening the mule into a frenzied gallop.

Sergeant Hans Rott finally remembered what to do when a mule got spooked; he clung tightly to the saddle, gripping the reins firmly.

The mule rushed all the way, miraculously dodging every shell.

Sergeant Hans Rott’s peaked cap was blown away by a shrapnel slice, his "typical Aryan" pale blonde short hair wildly dancing in the wind.

The mule’s "Divine Evasion" lasted for two minutes until a shell finally landed right in front of it, the poor beast rearing up on its front legs briefly.

Sergeant Hans Rott was thrown from the saddle, hitting the ground hard.

Then, the spilled hot coffee smeared all over him.

Had it not been for his recently changed winter clothes, he would have certainly been scalded.

Sergeant Hans Rott didn’t have time to feel relieved when the struggling mule crashed onto his waist, finally eliciting a pained scream from him.

As the mule lay on the ground, emitting its last dying snorts, its legs still thrashing, leaving trails in the muddy ground.

The artillery bombardment continued, shells continuously falling around the sergeant, mud splashing relentlessly onto his face, nearly turning him into a mud man.

Wang Zhong faintly heard the sound of artillery, he opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds before realizing that the cannonade was just the bubbling sound of boiling water on the stove beside him.

He got up, yawning greatly, before throwing off the blankets and standing up, grabbing clothes to wear.

Then he stopped.

Because the clothes were warmed through, exuding a coziness, the corners perfectly pressed.

Wang Zhong cursed, "Don’t do things that will make fangirls scream decades later, Yakov."

"You called me?" Yakov entered the room, the cold rainy wind blowing in with him, causing Wang Zhong to sneeze.

Yakov hurriedly entered the room, closing the door, "Sorry. I warmed and pressed the clothes."

Wang Zhong, "I didn’t expect you to be so handy with these tasks, has anyone praised you as a perfect spouse and parent yet?"

"Not yet." Yakov smiled shyly.

Wang Zhong, "Well, now you have. Alright, so what time is it now?"

"You are up late. The landing started half an hour ago, Chief of Staff Pavlov and the Military Bishop didn’t allow me to wake you, they said to let you sleep a bit longer."

Wang Zhong, "Damn, you should defy their orders at a time like this! I’m the Commander!"

He hurriedly dressed, not bothering to tidy up properly, and dashed out of the room straight to Headquarters.

Reaching Headquarters, Wang Zhong loudly asked, "How is the landing going?"

Pavlov, "All is well, the enemy’s troops on the riverbank were directly crushed by our artillery, the Naval Infantry reported not encountering much resistance after landing, and the engineers are building a bridge; the 51st Armored Division on the East Bank can hardly wait."

Wang Zhong clapped loudly, "Good! It’s great to gain the upper hand!"