Starting with the smashing of Dunkirk

Chapter 3 You said this was the work of a corporal?

"Sir, this is a warning broadcast in French."

"This is in the Netherlands."

About half an hour later, as two soldiers with some foreign language skills handed Lelouch the manuscript they had just finished translating, his expression became serious.

He knew he had to make a decision that could determine the lives of many people.

He had previously offered advice to Captain Andre twice, and had also overstepped his bounds by trying to consult with the division headquarters and warn friendly forces.

But all those actions should be taken as quickly as possible, without considering the timing.

This time was different. He knew very well that once the broadcast was sent out in the enemy's native language, the enemy would immediately listen in, intercept and understand it, and it would very likely cause the Belighians to blow up the dam ahead of schedule.

In that case, the 16th Infantry Regiment, which was rushing towards them, might have been submerged by the water even earlier.

Is it sooner, so more lives can be saved? Or is it later, so more lives can be saved?

Lelouch had never made such a significant decision before his transmigration, and he was momentarily filled with fear.

After all, he wasn't some kind of demon.

"Should we delay sending it for another half hour? Let's bet that Billy the Golden Man won't breach the dam within half an hour? Or at least wait fifteen minutes?"

Just as he was intensely hesitating and calculating, the telegraph receiver responded.

Lelouch was startled and quickly recorded the telegram.

It turned out to be a coded broadcast from the division headquarters.

"The reconnaissance aircraft dispatched by the Army Group Headquarters has confirmed the blasting operation site of the Biligin people in the lower reaches of the Isel River and is currently tracking and filming them. All units are requested to quickly evacuate areas that may be prone to flooding!"

Lelouch translated the telegram as quickly as possible, and an idea was finally formed in his mind.

"Our reconnaissance aircraft captured photos of the Billy Kings' operations! This is a major victory! Historically, the Billy Kings' breaching of the dike was definitely not captured on camera, which is why there was a long dispute later, with both sides accusing the other of bombarding it with heavy artillery."

But now the evidence is irrefutable! There were no fighter jets in this era, so it was impossible for a reconnaissance plane taking photos in the air to be intercepted and shot down by the enemy! And there was no Photoshop in this era; no one would accuse the photos of being photoshopped!

Thinking of this, Lelouch's spirits lifted, and he immediately sent a secret telegram to the division headquarters at top speed:

"We are aware that we have obtained evidence of enemy pre-detonation. We suggest that you promptly issue a warning via clear text to surrounding villages and towns, and that your troops inform civilians you encounter to take cover. If possible, you may also assist civilians in taking cover."

Furthermore, our department has prepared a French/Nai bilingual warning telegram, which may be broadcast immediately if the division headquarters permits.

It was sent out in just a few words and within minutes.

It takes a few minutes for the other side to receive and decode the data, so the entire process should take about twenty minutes to receive the permission.

After Lelouch finished speaking, he sat on pins and needles in front of the radio, repeatedly glancing at the broken wall clock.

Several times he even suspected that the broken wall clock had been damaged by the shelling, and that the spring was running particularly slowly.

"So long? Only ten minutes? Fifteen minutes?"

Just as he was feeling cold sweating from waiting, the telegraph receiver finally rang again.

22 minutes had passed since I started sending the message.

It was indeed a reply from the division headquarters!

After another 6 minutes of receiving and decoding, Lelouch confirmed that the division headquarters had authorized it!

Furthermore, the division headquarters stated that they were also working as quickly as possible to prepare bilingual warning broadcasts, and each unit could decide for itself to implement humanitarian broadcasts.

In that case, the division headquarters definitely can't beat Lelouch to the "first broadcast," because he has already translated it in advance, saving half an hour of translation time.

A few minutes later, a French warning broadcast first echoed across the land, followed by a continuous loop of Neapolitan bilingual telegrams.

The world in 1914 was still very underdeveloped, and not every town nearby had a radio receiver. Even if they did receive one, they might not bother to translate it and could simply ignore it.

But no matter how many people receive it, even if only one place in every three or four towns receives the warning broadcast, believes it, and quickly evacuates their homes, it is still a meritorious deed.

The quantity isn't the key; the key is that someone did it.

Within fifteen minutes, in a place unknown to Lelouch, in the vast low-lying areas along the banks of the Isel River, several mayors of Billygin began anxiously using loudspeakers to notify the townspeople still remaining in the town to evacuate immediately.

"Fellow villagers, run! The army is going to breach the dike and flood the enemy!"

The number of people stranded in the area was not very large to begin with, because this area is already a war zone, and more than half of the population, especially the young people, had already fled.

Those who preferred to stay in their hometowns rather than leave when the enemy attacked were mostly the elderly, the weak, women, and children.

At least a thousand civilians from Billy King, along with the elderly and children, hastily left their homes, attempting to escape the valley in two directions, north and south, to seek refuge on higher ground.

But many others simply didn't believe the Demacians would be so kind, nor did they believe the Belial army would breach the dikes and flood their own people; they dismissed it all as mere rumors.

……

At the same time, the mayors of the towns along the Isère River received the warning broadcast message.
The Belgian military headquarters in Port Ostend, located 20 kilometers east of Neoport, also received the telegram.

This is plaintext in the native language, and it doesn't require intelligence deception or verification, so it spreads very quickly.

The commander-in-chief of the Belgian army was none other than their king, Albert I. He was a handsome, middle-aged man of about forty, with a mustache and a very angular face.

He was hiding in his office when he learned the contents of the Demacian telegram, his face terribly grim.

"You bunch of useless trash! How could such a secret operation be leaked! How could the enemy's scout cavalry get so close and spot the flaws in such a covert operation!"

"Drobuk! Felix! You two tell me, whose responsibility is it?! If anyone actually believes this, how are we supposed to face the people afterward?!"

The two officials whose names were called immediately displayed a respectful and humble demeanor, obediently accepting the reprimand.

Drobuk is a civilian official and the Minister of Defense of the United States.

Felix holds the rank of lieutenant general and is also the chief of the general staff.

After His Majesty had vented his anger, Lieutenant General Felix decisively said, "The Isel River defense line is the area of ​​Major General Victor's 6th Infantry Division. He was previously assigned the related demolition mission."

However, the General Staff's plan at the time was to hold out as long as possible, unless it was absolutely impossible to withstand the Demacian breakthrough, or if there was an extremely critical situation where the Demacian main force would completely cut off our army's retreat route, then he would be allowed to blow it up! So he hasn't taken action yet!" Lieutenant General Felix cleared himself of any wrongdoing in a few words. He didn't say that people could just blow it up casually. His plan had a prerequisite—it could only be blown up if there was an ultimate crisis where not blowing it up would lead to the destruction of the country.

Upon hearing this, King Albert did not immediately reprimand him. Instead, he paused for a moment, then asked:

"So, do you think we've reached the final moment of life and death? If we drag this out any longer, will we still have a chance to act? Won't things get even more complicated, and the enemy gain more leverage against us?"

Lieutenant General Felix's expression changed drastically; he knew it was time to take the blame for His Majesty.

"Yes, Your Majesty, I know what to do."

He left the King's Office, returned to the General Staff, and then made a phone call directly to the headquarters of the 6th Infantry Division, which was holding off the enemy on the Isel River front.

"Bring me Commander Viktor! This is the General Staff! Viktor, can you hear me? Execute the final resistance plan, I mean immediately!"

The voice on the other end of the phone was trembling, and it was impossible to hear what was being said.

But twenty minutes later, several weak points in the dikes on the north bank of the Isère Canal downstream were blown open by a massive amount of buried explosives.

The surging seawater immediately rushed from east to west, sweeping and engulfing everything below sea level.

……

"Run! The canal embankment has really been blown up!"

"Devil! Who did this?! It must have been the Demacians! I don't believe they would kindly advise us to run away; they must be the thief crying 'stop thief!'"

"Who knows! None of those emperors and kings were good people; they all deserved to die!"

The civilians in the flooded riverside villages and towns cried out in anguish and curses, but there was nothing they could do but abandon everything and evacuate as quickly as possible, trying to get to higher ground. Those who lived in apartment buildings simply went upstairs to wait for the floodwaters to recede.

The elevation loss in this area is not too great. The lowest point near the river is about five or six meters below zero, but most areas are only two or three meters below zero.

The real danger is that if the floodwaters are trapped for too long, supplies will run out, or houses will collapse, which would be a different story.

At the same moment, on a gentle slope three kilometers south of Neoport, Colonel Lister of the 16th Infantry Regiment of the 12th Demania Division was still leading his entire army in a desperate, frantic sprint.

He could have walked a little faster along the way, but after receiving the division's order to act expediently, he realized that saving some of the Biligin civilians would help them become witnesses later and prevent the Biligin royal family from smearing the empire on this matter.

So he rescued people partly out of a sense of military honor, partly to gather evidence, and ended up saving hundreds of civilians along the way.

As the sound of the upstream floodwaters gradually became audible, Lister once again urged the soldiers to speed up.

"Hurry! Speed ​​it up! The engineers at the division headquarters have calculated that it will take half an hour from the time the dam breaks to when the water rushes in! It will take two hours for the dam to be completely filled with water!"

Everyone, give it your all! If you can't even run two kilometers in half an hour, have you all skipped lunch?!

Hearing the rushing water from the east and rear, the soldiers ran their best long-distance running times ever. No one dared to stop; they all sprinted and charged with all their might.

Even if they felt like their lungs were about to burst, they didn't dare to rest for a moment.

Some artillerymen who had been riding horses and pulling 77mm field guns for the first half of the journey also dismounted and exchanged positions with their infantry comrades who were too tired to run anymore, allowing the infantrymen to rest during the last two kilometers of the ride.

With such mutual support and strict military discipline, the vanguard of the 16th Regiment successfully ran straight into the town of Neoport before the flood arrived.

The last group was stuck in the water for about half a kilometer. But it wasn't a big problem; they could reach the town even by wading.

……

"Water...is there any water?"

Although Colonel Lister had ridden all the way here, he was still panting heavily when he entered the town, and he casually sat down against a wall without caring about his image.

Captain Andrei, who was in charge of guarding the town, heard that friendly forces had arrived and hurried over, looking travel-worn but proud, to take over the duties, even handing the colonel a canteen.
"Respected Colonel, Hans Andri, commander of the division's cavalry reconnaissance company, reports for duty."

"François Lister, commander of the 16th Infantry Regiment. How is the situation now?" Lister returned the salute hastily, looking disheveled, and then began gulping down water.

Andri hadn't expected the colonel to be in such a hurry, without uttering a single unnecessary word. So he immediately pulled out a map, spread it out, and pointed to it, explaining:
"Our troops repelled another French attack half an hour ago. Although the enemy is numerous, they must have only recently arrived in Dunkirk and de Panne, and for the time being they only have light weapons."

As for the Belgins in the east, I have already figured them out. They have fled all the way from Antwerp, and they must have lost all their heavy equipment. They can only rely on their lives to charge forward. As long as our army has enough ammunition, we can hold off at least ten times the number of enemies!

Now that we have a whole regiment of reinforcements, this battle still has a chance to go on.

According to the original plan, the entire 12th Division of Baria was supposed to arrive, but only one regiment has arrived. The remaining three infantry regiments and artillery regiments were blocked south of the flood zone, meaning that only 20% of the original force had reached the interception point.

In any case, this is more than ten times the strength of the previous reconnaissance company.

Historically, a reconnaissance company had to fight against two hundred men; now, it only needs to fight against a dozen or so.

But Lister seemed to think Andri's report hadn't grasped the key points, so he raised his hand to interrupt him:

"Those aren't the most important things. First, answer two crucial questions for me: How much land was actually flooded? Did it only block our reinforcements? Did it affect the enemy's breakout?"

Andri: "I have had the water situation roughly surveyed. The town was not flooded at all, and the enemy's attack and breakout routes on the east and west sides were not affected—that is to say, the entire coastal highway was not flooded."

This coastal area, stretching for dozens of kilometers, has likely been a peninsula since ancient times, not man-made reclaimed land; its natural elevation is already high enough. However, the banks of the Isère River to the south were created by seawalls.

Therefore, the only effect of this flood was to cut off our reinforcements in the south; it had no impact on the enemy.

If we must pinpoint the impact, it's that they can only launch a frontal assault along the coastal highway, which narrows the battlefield and prevents the enemy from flanking us from the flooded areas. We only need to defend the east and west flanks; we don't need to worry about the south.

Upon hearing this, Colonel Lister frowned slightly, revealing no obvious change in mood.

He pondered for a moment, then added one last crucial question: "How did you discover this dangerous situation? Were those temporary response measures your own ideas? I just read the telegrams the confidential clerk received on the way, and it seems you were thinking ahead to the division headquarters."

Hearing the colonel's praise, Andrei felt both proud and embarrassed.

He couldn't bring himself to shamelessly steal the credit, so after a few seconds of hesitation, he organized his thoughts and said truthfully:
"Actually... all of this was discovered by a corporal in the wiring platoon of the communications battalion directly under the army group, and it was an emergency response plan he came up with on the spot."

I was busy directing the battle just now, so everything in the telegraph room was temporarily entrusted to him.

Colonel Lister was dumbfounded and speechless.

"Corporal?! This is absurd! Is this how the Empire buries talent? How could a corporal possess such keen insight and strategic foresight? He saved my entire regiment! Bring him to me! No, take me to see him now!"

(End of this chapter)