Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 148 Armored airships are more than just big!
"Five near misses! Each gun should be reloaded with firing data based on the calibration data!"

Inside the transparent observation cabin beneath the bridge of the 'Zeppelin' armored airship, an observer grabbed a nearby call button and shouted into the microphone.

His forehead was covered in sweat from tension, and his eyes were fixed on the Baxion Fortress below through his binoculars.

The shells that were fired just now landed way off course.

There was nothing that could be done. As soon as the ground forces of the 'Mertz Battle Group' approached the outer perimeter of the fortress, they were pinned down by the enemy's fortress defensive fire and could not be guided by ground forces at all.

Therefore, now we can only rely on the airship to observe and then make autonomous corrections based on the impact point, which is similar to the artillery fire of naval warships.

From the air, the entire Liege fortress complex looks like a giant monster.

Twelve fortresses, spaced four to six kilometers apart, formed a ring around Liege.

The reinforced concrete fortresses and the temporary trenches dug around them were enough to make the observers shudder, as if this place could hold back a million-strong army.

The gunners in the four gun turrets on the airship were frantically adjusting the firing parameters, and the 203mm twin-mounted guns slowly adjusted their angles with a creaking metallic sound.

Soon, the second wave of attacks began.

This time, the attack from the four twin-mounted 203mm guns finally had some accuracy, with most of the shells hitting the top of the Baxion fortress.

Deafening explosions rang out one after another, and black smoke columns shot into the sky.

The Saxon soldiers waiting to attack the Basshon fortress cheered upon seeing this.

Thick smoke billowed, obscuring the view.

The observer nervously held up his binoculars, waiting for the smoke to clear.

After a long while, when the smoke dissipated in the wind and the silhouette of Baxiong Fortress reappeared, the observer couldn't help but gasp.

The fortress was completely intact.

Apart from some dark, cratered marks on the surface, not a single rock fell off.

"Attack invalid, repeat, attack invalid."

The observer's voice sounded somewhat bitter as he relayed the disheartening result to the bridge.

On the bridge, the captain of the L28 armored airship, a middle-aged man with a Saxon-style beard, grew increasingly grim after hearing the report.

He glanced at the flight captain beside him, who also looked grave.

“It seems the intelligence from the military department was correct,” the captain said in a low voice. “These turtle shells can indeed be immune to attacks from guns with a caliber of 210 mm or less.”

The air force commander nodded and sighed, "If the army hadn't applied for our air force's assistance in advance, they would have had to sacrifice countless lives to get through this tough nut to crack."

Just then, a piercing bell rang behind the captain's seat.

He walked over quickly and picked up something that looked like a telephone receiver.

This is a combination communication system 'borrowed' from the Navy, which uses a combination of wired telephone and copper microphone tube.

The main communication equipment is a wired telephone with a small onboard switchboard, which can connect the entire deck from bow to stern.

Copper microphone tubes were used for short-range communication between compartments, or as a backup communication method in emergencies.

"This is the bridge," the captain said into the microphone.

The gunner's urgent voice came through the receiver: "Bridge, this is the fire control room! Conventional ammunition is not effective; requesting a switch to heavy anti-tank rounds!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" The captain agreed without hesitation. "How long will it take to replace the anti-tank ammunition in each turret?"

Gunner: "Reporting to the captain, after seeing the fortress data at the operational meeting, I had already ordered heavy assault shells to be transported to the vicinity of the gun positions. Now we can just load them!"

"Well done! From now on, the fire control command center will directly direct the attack. Except in special circumstances, there is no need to report to the bridge!"

"Yes, Captain, communication ended!"

Upon receiving the order, the four turrets immediately began reloading their ammunition.

These heavy assault shells loaded into the 203 naval guns may look no different from conventional shells, but their internal structure is actually completely different, and the inner layer of the projectile is engraved with a large number of complex runes.

The filling was completed quickly.

"Fire!" the gunner commanded.

The continuous cannon fire rang out again, this time with an even more muffled sound than before.

The cannonball traced an eerie blue arc through the air, striking precisely the top of the Baxiong Fortress.

"boom!"

The explosion's flames had an eerie blue-purple hue, clearly amplified by some kind of magical technology.

When the smoke cleared again, the observer shouted excitedly, "Attack successful! Repeat! Attack successful! I see the area around the turret on top of the fortress has collapsed!"

His voice was quickly transmitted to the fire control room and the bridge via the landline, and everyone was invigorated.

"Continue the attack! All gun emplacements, fire freely!" the gunner ordered without hesitation.

The armored airship awkwardly adjusted its attitude in the air, and its cannons were once again aimed at the battered fortress.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The sound of cannons came from the air again. Just as all the Saxon soldiers on the airship and on the ground were full of anticipation, waiting to see the Baxon Fortress completely destroyed, an unexpected change occurred.

A faint blue light curtain suddenly appeared above the fortress, like an inverted bowl, enveloping the entire fortress.

The shell that had just left the barrel struck this light barrier.

The violent explosion covered the entire fortress just like before, but this time it was completely blocked by the blue magic shield.

"A large-scale magical protective array for the fortress?!" The captain thought to himself.

Before he could say anything, a technician on the bridge who was in charge of operating the magical detection equipment suddenly screamed in terror:
"A large amount of magical energy has been detected on the ground! The energy level is extremely high!"

The captain's heart sank, and an ominous thought flashed through his mind—another intelligence report mentioned by the military intelligence department: the United Kingdom of Flanders had obtained a batch of large magical weapons from the Britannians at the beginning of the year!
"Helmsman, take emergency evasive action! Maximize the power of the entire ship's magical shields!" He practically roared it out.

The helmsman slammed the rudder, and the massive airship began to swerve awkwardly in the air.

But this big machine is so badly maneuverable that it can't go fast at all.

Just as the airship veered slightly off course, three blinding red beams shot into the sky from the ground and instantly struck the airship's belly.

The airship's built-in magic shield reacted violently the moment it came into contact with the red beam of light. Blue arcs of electricity flickered wildly on the shield's surface, emitting a series of thunderous explosions.

The terrifying scene was clearly visible to Morin and the others, who were several kilometers away.

"Holy crap." Morin's jaw nearly dropped. "No way? There are high-energy lasers for attacking the air?"

Kleist and Manstein, who were standing next to him, were also shocked and speechless.

The three parallel crimson beams of light lasted for several seconds before disappearing.

The armored airship in the air was not shot down on the spot, but the magical shield that enveloped it was completely dissipated in this terrifying attack.

On the airship bridge, everyone was terrified by what had just happened.

They were the closest to the violent magical reaction that had just occurred, and for a moment, they truly thought they were going to die.

The piercing alarm sounded again.

The captain grabbed the phone: "This is the bridge! What just happened?!"

"Report to the bridge! The magic shield unit is completely out of order! Technicians are working on emergency repairs, but it cannot be reactivated in the short term!" The trembling voice of the airship control team liaison officer came through the receiver.

What was the enemy's attack?

"According to the magic engineer's assessment, it should be the [Sunfire Ray] emitted by a large-scale magical device!" "I don't care what kind of bullshit ray that is!" the captain roared in exasperation. "I just want to know, can we hold on any longer?!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a dejected reply: "Reporting, Captain... Without a magic shield, we can't hold out."

Upon hearing this answer, the captain felt as if all his strength had been drained away.

He glanced down at the fortress below, which seemed to harbor demons, gritted his teeth, and gave the order he least wanted to give.

"Helmsman, maintain evasive maneuvering and get us out of here!"

The massive armored airship slowly turned around in the air, like a wounded beast fleeing the battlefield in a sorry state.

This scene caused the morale of the Saxon soldiers attacking below to plummet, while the defenders inside the Liège fortress erupted in deafening cheers.

Morin put down his binoculars, his heart also feeling cold.

The Liege Fortress in this world, after adopting magical technology, is much more difficult to defeat than he imagined.

"This is troublesome," he muttered to himself. "Judging from this situation, are we really going to be stuck here for several days?"

When Morin led the training assault battalion to the rear supply depot and field hospital assembly point of the army group, it was already getting dark.

The air here is filled with a strong, pungent smell of blood mixed with the stench of medicine.

One after another, horse-drawn carriages and trucks retreated from the front lines, carrying wounded soldiers groaning incessantly.

The field hospital was set up on an open grassland, and the temporary tents were brightly lit and filled with people.

The doctors and nurses were so busy they had no time to pay attention to the newly arrived troops.

Under Morin's orders, the soldiers of the training assault battalion deployed around the hospital and supply depot, constructing makeshift fortifications.

This was the first time they had come so close to witnessing the brutality of war.

Apart from the veterans of the 1st Company who had fought in Aragon, the soldiers of the other three companies, although they were also elite veterans of the Royal Guard and the Jaegers, had never experienced actual combat.

Before, they may have been filled with romantic fantasies about war and a desire to make a name for themselves, but the scene before them was like a bucket of ice water poured over their burning heads.

They saw the wounded being carried off the vehicle; some were missing arms or legs, and others had abdominal wounds that were still bleeding.

A young soldier, half his face burned, could only let out muffled howls.

The good news is that although no one vomited, most people were pale and their eyes were filled with confusion.

The relaxed and confident atmosphere that I had felt on the train and on the march was completely gone.

"Sir, there are too many wounded soldiers coming from the front lines, and the hospital simply doesn't have enough staff."

Kleist walked over to Morin, his expression equally grim.

Morin glanced at the field hospital not far away and nodded: "Have the men from the 1st and 4th companies stay behind to keep watch. You take the men from the 2nd and 3rd companies and go over to help. Every little bit helps."

"Yes, sir."

Kleist accepted the order and left. Soon after, the soldiers of the training assault battalion, under the guidance of doctors and nurses, joined the ranks of those rescuing the wounded.

They helped carry stretchers or pressed gauze against the wounds of the injured, while also comforting those who were emotionally distraught.

Morin himself walked towards where the wounded had disembarked, intending to find an officer who had been withdrawn from the front lines to ask about the specifics.

He quickly found his target: a major with thick bandages wrapped around his shoulder, directing his men to unload the wounded from the truck.

"Major, I am Captain Friedrich Morin, the battalion commander of the 1st Training Assault Battalion of the Imperial Guard."

Morin stepped forward and saluted.

When the major saw the rank insignia and armbands on Morin's shoulders and heard the prefix "Imperial Guard," he immediately returned the salute.

"Hello, Captain, I'm from the 27th Infantry Brigade."

"How's the situation up ahead?" Morin asked bluntly.

The major shook his head and pointed to the endless stream of wounded soldiers being brought in behind him: "You've seen it all, it's not going well. The 'Metz River Combat Group's' attack today has basically been crippled."

He pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Maureen.

Morin waved his hand, indicating that he didn't smoke.

The major lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and continued, "That hellhole in Liège is like a steel hedgehog. Their defensive firepower is too intense; they're using a mix of magic crystal cannons and conventional artillery. Our men simply can't get through."

"Conventional artillery?" Morin frowned.

"Yes, and it was a 210mm howitzer that we ordered before the war from our own Knoop Armory!"

The major cursed fiercely.

"The shells rained down on us, and with the air shrapnel from the magic crystal cannons, our men fell down in rows like wheat being harvested."

Hearing this, Morin's heart sank even further.

Knobb's 210mm howitzer, now the largest caliber artillery piece in the Saxon army's field forces, is being used by the enemy against them. It's a very frustrating situation.

Morin knew, of course, that most of the Saxons in this world had also developed the 'Great Berta'.

But Morin felt that this thing, which took six hours to install and required more than 200 people to serve, could not be considered a field gun.

"We organized several assaults, all of which failed. The corpses outside the fortress are piled up like mountains."

The major seemed to be recalling the previous battle, his voice tinged with fear.

"Even if someone manages to reach a blind spot in the artillery fire, they will be riddled with bullets by their rifles and machine guns."

"They connected each fortress with trenches and also laid barbed wire. Although it looked rudimentary, it was an insurmountable death zone for us."

Morin fell silent. He knew very well what the combination of trenches, barbed wire, and machine guns would produce.

"General Emish is frantic. He has used up all his reserves, but it's still no use."

The major took another drag of his cigarette, staring blankly into the distance.

"Our combat group has suffered at least three thousand casualties today alone."

Three thousand people!
This number made Morin's heart tighten. He realized that the attack power of the 'Metz River Battle Group' in this world seemed to be greater than that of the timeline he was familiar with.

The two chatted for a few more minutes, and Morin learned more details about the front lines from the major.

The battle continued until nightfall, leaving both sides exhausted.

The Saxon army's repeated attacks were repelled, and their morale was low.

The Flanders defenders, though they also paid a considerable price, successfully held their ground thanks to their strong fortifications.

After saying goodbye to the major, Morin returned to the camp.

He saw that the soldiers who had just been helping to rescue the wounded were now sitting silently, their expressions somber.

The cruelty of war was displayed to them in the most direct and bloody way.

The carefree fantasy of a military parade in Paris in the autumn was completely shattered.

Morin didn't try to comfort them; he knew that some things they had to process and adapt to on their own.

He simply walked silently to the edge of the camp, looking towards the Liege fortress in the distance, at the sky shrouded in smoke and fire.

Time passed by, and at 8:30 p.m., a messenger rode into the camp of the training assault battalion.

"Sir! An urgent order from the army group command!"

(End of this chapter)