Arc of Fire

Fenny Valley Bridge, 0200 hours.

The offensive launched from the South Bank finally ceased.

The doctor jogged back to Jonathan’s shelter, whispering, "I couldn’t see anything from the camp building upstairs, no idea what the situation with the Balasians on the other side is like. I suggest turning on the searchlights."

Jonathan was startled, "There’s still electricity here?"

The doctor replied, "Of course, we just turned off the lights. Turn on the searchlights, and we should be able to see the enemy’s condition clearly in the instant the lights come on."

Jonathan thought for a moment and shook his head, "No, seeing them won’t help. I don’t know why these Balas soldiers, who are ’lacking in combat will’ according to MI6 reports, still attack like this after such casualties, nor do I want to know.

"If we turn the lights on and see that the enemy is well-manned, it’s still debatable whether we could maintain morale."

At this moment, Lieutenant Keith ran over to Jonathan and said, "There are only twenty-five rounds left for the anti-aircraft guns, enough to repel one more assault. We’ve killed at least eight hundred of the enemy. Every time they charge, we have to take down a noble officer leading them, seventeen times now, seventeen times! If the enemy is the size of a division, we’ve wiped out all their senior officers above the regiment level!

"Is this the Balas Army?"

"Yes," Jonathan looked towards the other bank, "there’s only one explanation, they’ve lost their minds in a killing frenzy and have become fearless."

The doctor, with an air of detachment, said, "That’s the worst possible scenario for us. Once the machine guns run out, we’ll still have hand grenades, but what after we’ve thrown all the grenades?"

Jonathan replied, "Collect the grenades from the enemy’s corpses. I’ve already sent Tommy and Jerry to gather them."

As soon as he finished speaking, two Commandos dragged a sack each back to Jonathan and crouched in front of him, "Boss, there are quite a few grenades, enough for us to throw for a while, but not a single automatic weapon. What’s crazier is that some of these Balasians only had five rounds for their weapons!"

Jonathan muttered, "No wonder no one shot at me when I was alone blocking the bridge."

The doctor said, "Looks like the officers sold the equipment, huh? It’s already quite impressive that such an army managed to charge us at all. They would have likely collapsed long ago if they hadn’t all been riled up. Now they are seeking revenge for their brothers who died under our guns."

Right after he spoke, a Commando watching the other side shouted, "The enemy! The enemy is crossing the bridge!"

Jonathan told the two men searching bodies, "Quick! Get the grenades to the Grenadiers!"

"Right!" The two men, crouching low, rushed to the Grenadiers’ shelter.

At this moment, the machine gun opened fire, but it was very controlled, waiting until each explosive round detonated and the effects were confirmed before firing the next.

However, the enemy was not totally incompetent, and Jonathan clearly heard someone on the bridge shouting in Balasian. He turned to the doctor, "What’s he shouting?"

"He’s shouting, ’The enemy’s out of ammo, avenge our fallen brothers!’ Exactly the worst-case scenario you mentioned."

Jonathan shook his head and shouted to the Grenadiers hidden on the other side of the bridge, "Prepare to throw grenades!"

"Ready!" a Grenadier replied.

As they spoke, the machine gun fire stopped, and Keith’s curses came from the gun position, "Why does it fail now? Which bastard boasted about the high reliability of Prosen equipment?"

It looked like the last 25 explosive rounds couldn’t be fired smoothly either.

The moment the machine gun ceased fire, the Balasians charged across the bridge with a roar.

The Grenadier took action, the first grenade accurately landing at the forefront of the Balasian formation and detonating on impact, knocking down the leading officer and a few others.

The Grenadier continued to throw grenades, apparently having someone specifically help him pull the pins.

Regular explosions came from the bridge, the hand grenade fire from just two men was enough to hold back the enemy.

After the initial panic, the enemy steadied, taking up positions on the bridge and firing at the Grenadiers’ shelter.

Given that grenades have a shorter range than rifles, both sides remained deadlocked.

Then the Balasians came up with a new plan: they charged in pairs.

Jonathan cursed, raised a captured Lee-Enfield, and dropped one man with a shot, then expertly worked the bolt and knocked down another with a trigger pull.

Yet the Lee-Enfields he picked up didn’t have much ammunition; after five shots, Jonathan had to switch rifles, and after the Balasians sent over a hundred men, he was out of bullets!

Meanwhile, the Balasians on the bridge had also fired their last rounds, and the whole scene suddenly went quiet!

Then the enemy sent another pair, two strong, burly men who looked like formidable fighters. Your journey continues with empire

Jonathan drew his serrated saber, already nicked seven or eight times, and stood at the head of the bridge.

The doctor exclaimed, "Motherfucker, is this the 20th century? Why doesn’t it feel like it?"

Jonathan said, "On the battlefield, when the fight gets desperate, not just knives, but teeth and nails are weapons too."

Across the bridge, before the two Balasians could advance, another pair was sent out. They kept at this, advancing in pairs within the effective range of a grenade.

Jonathan twirled his saber in front of him, then switched it from his left hand to his right, striking a ’bring it on’ pose.

It was 0215 in the early morning of the 30th, just 15 minutes until the reinforcements Rocossov promised were due to arrive.

However, Jonathan believed that if the reinforcements arrived before four o’clock, it would be considered expedient, as the United Kingdom’s Army had never been on time.

He had made peace with the idea of defending his position to the death with cold weapons.

However, the enemy came at them two by two, making it easier for him—an enemy pair wasn’t too hard to handle.

Just as Jonathan thought this, Lieutenant Keith stood by his side with a bayonet-fixed Lee-Enfield, his gaze resolutely fixed on the enemy.

After striking a posture of a fight to the death, Lieutenant Keith whispered, "I’ve got eight bullets left in my pistol. What do you say?"

Jonathan replied, "Hold steady for now. The enemy doesn’t look trained in close combat."

As they spoke, Martin also took position at Jonathan’s other side, repeatedly slapping his palm with a Sapper Shovel.

The two leading Balasian brutes froze, momentarily halting their advance and looking back, signaling for the pair behind them to join and form a trio.

At that moment, a line of tracer bullets flew in from a great distance, landing around the group of three. One of them was hit immediately, the bullet striking his shoulder and exiting through his lower back, slamming into the bridge deck.

As the first man fell, the other two were also hit, collapsing onto the bridge floor, their eyes wide open in shock as they looked in the direction the bullets came from.

The rain of tracer bullets moved along the bridge, systematically bringing down the distant Balasian soldiers one by one.

"The reinforcements have arrived!" shouted the medic.

Jonathan exclaimed, "They’ve arrived earlier than expected?"

He immediately went prone to avoid friendly fire and turned his head.

The tracer bullets arched over their heads like a giant child peeing in parabolas.

At the same time, the roar of engines came from the main road.

The clattering of gearboxes joining, it was tanks!

Next, the silhouette of tanks appeared. These massive beasts charged towards the bridge head at at least 40 kilometers per hour, kicking up a dust cloud as tall as a three-story building!

A gunner stood on the tank’s engine cover, continuously firing the machine gun mounted on the turret.

The machine gunner was actually a blonde woman—by her frame, still a girl!

Jonathan couldn’t make out the other details, but he knew there were many people seated on the tank, and fluttering from its radio antenna was a red flag!

That red flag!

Jonathan had seen that red flag in The Times. It was Rocossov’s emblem!

Jonathan squinted to see the figures beside the firing gunman better, yes, the silhouette sticking out of the turret to look around.

In the flash of the machine gun fire, he thought he glimpsed a red patch on the figure’s collar—if he remembered correctly, that was a distinction only General Ante had!

Had Rocossov really come himself to the rescue?

At that moment, a shout came from the turret, and the tank fired. The shell whizzed over Jonathan’s head and hit the South Bank.

The explosion lit up the entire South Bank.

A second tank fired, lighting up the South Bank once more.

By then, the leading tank’s rooftop machine gun had clearly run out of ammunition. The gunner was reloading while shouting, "Don’t lie in the road! General Rocossov has decided to charge over the bridge! Get up!"

Jonathan quickly got up, dragging the slower Martin with him, and along with Lieutenant Keith, they ran to the side, taking cover behind the sandbag parapet.

The tank reached the bridge head, and Jonathan clearly saw the tactical number 422 on the vehicle—Rocossov’s personal vehicle’s tactical code! He had really come himself for the rescue!

Then the tank halted, and the infantrymen seated on it began to dismount—one after another, they all wore dark clothing with large turned-down collars, the stripes of a sailor’s shirt peeking out at the neckline.

The infantrymen immediately began firing at the enemy still on the bridge, unleashing fierce firepower from their Papashas to suppress the Balasians.

Meanwhile, someone from the tank’s turret leaned down and asked something in Antenese.

The blond gunner translated, "The general is asking how you all are."

Jonathan said, "We’re fine! Tell the general, you arrived just in time!"

After relaying the message, the general nodded, saluted Jonathan, and then with a swift motion brought his saluting hand down, barking "Advance!" in Antenese.

Jonathan actually understood!

The tank roared to life, pressing forward with an air of unstoppable might, its tracks crushing the steel helmets of the Balasians lying in its path.

Injured Balasians who had been pretending to be dead in the pile of corpses immediately stopped playing possum, attempting to crawl away towards the far bank—only for the machine gun on the tank’s hull to fire, leaving several bloody marks on their bodies.

The coaxial machine gun of the main tank gun also began firing, sweeping across to the other side.

The blond gunner had finished reloading and resumed firing.

Tank 422 was like a great mountain, spewing three tongues of flame while rolling across to the other side of the bridge.

Faced with this seemingly insurmountable, unstoppable monster, the morale of the Balasians finally collapsed.

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