Cannon Fire Arc

Wang Zhong immediately knew what to do.

He said, "For the wrecked tanks, as well as the debris, we have many tractors; we can drag them all over here, paint them our color, then cover them up with some cloth!"

Pavlov said, "Using wreckage to camouflage good tanks... it could work, but we'd have to collect paint from Yeisk..."

Popov said, "I'll arrange it, and I'll handle the laborers as well."

Wang Zhong nodded and turned to Vasily, "Musician!"

Vasily frowned, "Every time you call me a musician, it's never for anything good!"

Wang Zhong said, "This time it is good. You're in charge of making each fake tank look convincing. Use your musician's imagination!"

Vasily retorted, "What does being a musician have to do with this sort of thing!"

Wang Zhong replied, "Then use the wisdom you've gleaned and refined from picking manure!"

Vasily's expression was as though he had just entered a latrine that hadn't been cleaned out in years, a place where the horrendous smell spoke for itself.

Suddenly, his brow relaxed, "Hey? We can smear mud on the tanks, the soil from the grasslands around us. It may not be good for making bunkers, but it's perfect for smearing on tanks! Mix the mud with water, plaster it on the tanks, and by morning's sunlight—"

Vasily threw his hands wide as if he, the musician, had just conducted a grand symphony, receiving the cheers of the audience.

Wang Zhong patted his shoulder, "See, I knew you could do it! Get moving, and the laborers should include the newly hired war orphans; take the children with you! Tell them it's an extremely important mission!"

Vasily asked uncertainly, "Why bring the kids along?"

Wang Zhong's expression softened, "Maybe I'm being sentimental, but... I think they should do something that fits with childhood."

After he spoke, the command post fell silent—not entirely silent, since the sound of the telegraphs still ticked on.

But the ticking of the telegraphs only served to accentuate the quiet of the map area.

Popov suddenly stepped forward and clapped Wang Zhong on the shoulder, "You are absolutely cut out to be a Military Bishop!"

Vasily touched his nose, "Even at such a time, you still consider the children, General. Alright, I'll take the kids with us."

That's when Nelly suddenly spoke up, "Just let the laborers do their job. I'll take care of the children, I'm a professional."

Wang Zhong glanced at Nelly, "Alright, come back before supper is ready—no, the children will surely be sleeping at this late hour. Prepare my supper first."

No sooner had he finished speaking than the cooks pushed a cart into the storehouse, "Supper's ready!"

Wang Zhong said, "Good, after eating let's keep up the hard work. We still have a lot, a lot of things to do!"

————

On the Prussian Army's side, General Boke was awakened by the sound of a telephone ringing.

He sat up and, reaching for the receiver, noticed several bumps on his hand—the work of mosquitoes.

He cursed a few times, then picked up the receiver, "This is General Boke; what's the matter?"

"The enemy is bombarding our positions."

General Boke glanced at the time, "Now?"

Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine, "Wait, when the enemy took advantage of the fog to assault the Sedd division, wasn't it also around this time that they bombarded us?"

The chief of staff on the other end of the line was obviously consulting with other staff members. A few seconds later, he reported, "Yes, it's the exact same time."

General Boke said, "I'll be at the Corps Command immediately. Also, send someone to repair the mosquito repellent in my tent!"

He hung up the phone and began to dress.

A few minutes later, the neatly dressed General Boke burst into the Army Group's command tent, "Weather report!"

The Air Force colonel acting as a liaison officer immediately brought over the weather report, "This is the forecast for the next 24 and 48 hours!"

General Boke snatched the report and scanned it, "Clear skies? Fog possible in the early morning? What are the chances of fog?"

Air Force colonel, "Actually, there's been fog every morning for the past few days, but it clears up quickly. It should be the same tomorrow. The report only says 'possible' for the sake of precision."

"Precision?" General Boke clicked his tongue and repeated, "Precision! If only you could be so 'precise' when delivering supplies! So much supplies either didn't drop or exploded upon landing. Exploded! Our inability to launch an assault, the Air Force is at least sixty percent to blame!"

The colonel didn't dare say a word.

General Boke turned to the chief of staff, "Inform the 113th Division, which is under bombardment, that the enemy will attack during tomorrow's fog. Tell them to be ready. Once the bombardment ends, the combat engineers should enter the trenches in battle gear. It will surely be close-quarters combat in the fog; let the Ante People taste the might of our elite combat engineers!"

The chief of staff nodded and suggested, "We can arm the combat engineers with Wolf Fang Clubs."

The Prussian combat engineers were equipped with Wolf Fang Clubs for close combat in smoke conditions. After all, random shooting in smoke could hit one's own troops, but the club was different.

However, this equipment had hardly any real combat use, as manually released smoke does not last long, and a fog-bound melee battle that lasts for hours is virtually non-existent, so combat engineer units tended not to carry this burdensome weapon.

But if the Ante People really launched a foggy assault like they did when they crushed the Sedd division, then the Wolf Fang Club would come in handy.

General Boke pondered briefly and agreed, "Alright, order it so."

As the staff began to relay the orders, General Boke approached the map, "This Rokossovsky, does he intend to carve us up and consume us bit by bit like slicing sausage? He sure has patience."

At that moment, General Boke's aide-de-camp entered the tent, came up to the general, and whispered, "Your mosquito repellent device isn't broken."

The general immediately raised his hand, pointing to the now reddening bumps, "Then how do you explain this?"

Aide-de-camp, "Because there are simply too many mosquitoes."

The chief of staff also reported, "The prevalence of sickness among the troops is increasing, and it might be related to the same 'Evil Sorcery' as during the Carolingian campaign."

General Boke: "Then do we still have enough quinine and penicillin?"

"Still enough. But it's being consumed at an alarming rate," said the chief of staff.

General Boke sighed, "The soldiers will just have to endure a bit more hardship. Outstanding Prussians will not fear these difficulties!"

The chief of staff nodded, "That's how we're propagating it right now."

General Boke paced back and forth in the tent twice and suddenly cursed: "It's that damn Rokossov! We could have entered the city by now! Now we have to feed the mosquitoes on the plain! Damn it!"

————

Three hours later, General Boke sat in his chair with his eyes closed, vigorously massaging his temples as if trying to ease his fatigue.

Suddenly, a staff officer shouted, "Fog's rolling in!"

General Boke sprang to his feet, the motion too abrupt causing him a bit of dizziness, nearly making him collapse back into his chair.

An aide-de-camp and the chief of staff both reached out to steady him.

Once General Boke steadied himself, he thanked them and then strode out of the tent with a brisk pace, looking at the dense fog enveloping the sky.

The fog was so thick that General Boke couldn't see the guards of the Corps Command— even though the sentry post was just a short distance from the Corps Command tent.

"Damn!" cursed the general, "This is evil sorcery! Report to the Imperial Academy of Sciences! The enemy is using sorcery to control the weather!"

Suddenly, General Boke heard a scream, followed by gunshots.

The staff officers immediately drew their weapons and then shielded the general behind them.

The aide-de-camp drew his gun and charged into the fog, shouting, "What's going on? Who's firing?"

After a moment, the aide-de-camp and a guard came before General Boke and the staff officers, supporting a soldier whose face was stricken with terror.

Aide-de-camp: "This man claims he saw a 'Little Fog Sprite'!"

General Boke: "What the hell is that?"

Chief of staff: "It was mentioned in reports from Sedd's division, seems to be a superstition from the Steiermark region and Melania."

The terrified soldier shouted, "I saw it! The Little Fog Sprite was laughing in the dense fog! Our home is in the mountains of Steiermark, and whenever the fog thickens, each household closes its doors and leaves offerings outside. The Little Fog Sprite will eat the disobedient children who wander into the fog!"

Impatiently waving his hand, General Boke said, "That's just a folk tale to keep you from going out in the fog. Take him away, hand him over to a psychologist!"

The aide-de-camp released the soldier's shoulder, and immediately guards came forward to take over, escorting the terrified soldier back into the fog.

The soldier screamed, "Don't go into the fog! No, don't!"

General Boke swore, "Announce to all troops, any soldier from Steiermark who mentions the Little Fog Sprite is to be arrested and sent to see a psychologist!"

"Yes!"

Turning on his heel, the general reentered the tent, giving the order, "Contact the 113th Infantry Division, ask about their situation!"

————

Meanwhile, the mixed infantry cluster of the First Mobile Group Army was advancing through the dense fog.

The infantry of the Guard's First Panzer Unit was on the far left, with the infantry of the 225th Division on the far right, and the center was entrusted to the First Division of the Melania People's Army.

To amalgamate infantry from different divisions into one attacking group, the staff at the Army Group headquarters had lost count of how much hair they'd pulled out.

Walking alongside his platoon, Filippov said, "Just like last time, don't worry! This time there are no buildings left, Prussians definitely can't handle it, we've always been strong in hand-to-hand combat!"

Suddenly, machine gun fire erupted from ahead, and bullets whistled over everyone's heads.

Filippov: "See? Their machine guns are aiming behind us, and the rate of fire is too sparse. There's no way they can organize a fire block like General Rokossov."

"That means the artillery did a good job before! Quick march!"

Everyone immediately quickened their pace.

Filippov thought to himself, Prussian machine gun positions wouldn't be directly at the front line; there had to be an infantry defense line in front of the machine guns.

Which meant, they were about to meet the enemy.

He raised his threaded-cutter, ready to fire.

Suddenly, a massive figure loomed out of the fog ahead!

Filippov fired!

Then he heard the sound of weights clanging against an iron plate.

After a series of clangs, the figure collapsed with a thud!

Filippov surged forward two steps and saw that it was a combat engineer wearing a breastplate!

The breastplate was cracked everywhere from the impact of the threaded-cutter bullets, and blood continuously flowed from the gaps at the side of the breastplate.

The combat engineer was even carrying a Wolf Fang Club!

More figures appeared in the fog ahead!

Filippov: "Fire! The enemy has only melee weapons, fire!"

A chorus of clanging sounds rang out immediately.