Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 154 Infiltration

As the airborne operation was launched, General Billow was anxiously reviewing the attack situation of the Metz River Battle Group at the Second Army Command.

The operations room was filled with smoke, and the huge map on the wall was covered with various red and blue pencil marks, but the red arrow representing the spearhead of the attack was firmly blocked outside the Liege fortress complex.

The failed offensive throughout the day left the army commander's face so grim it could drip water.

Timetable! Damn timetable!

The staff officers in the General Staff, sitting in their offices, meticulously planned every step of the entire Western Front campaign down to the day.

But they simply didn't understand that the situation on the front lines was constantly changing, and things couldn't be done so easily according to plan.

While the Second Army was stalled, the First Army, commanded by General Mackensen in the north, was fighting extremely well today.

According to the battle report just received, even without air support from armored airships in the afternoon, General Mackensen still commanded the various units of the First Army and completely suppressed the enemy forces in the north.

The Teutonic Knights, tasked with fighting against the elite 'Golden Fleece' of the United Kingdom of Flanders, engaged in a massive melee with the enemy's armored knights in an open field, involving nearly a hundred armored knights.

Ultimately, the Teutonic Knights, relying on a newly equipped armor-piercing weapon, achieved a terrifying exchange ratio of one to twelve, almost annihilating the elite assault force of the United Kingdom of Flanders.

The problem now is that no matter how smoothly the northern front advances, it will be bogged down by the thwarted offensive of the Second Army Group.

If he cannot capture Liège, which is surrounded by twelve fortresses, the First Army will not be able to confidently launch a deep attack into Gaul.

Their flanks would be completely exposed to the threat of the Liege fortress complex, and the First Army's supply lines would be severely hampered by the failure to secure the railway.
Thinking of this, General Bilo waved his hand irritably, dispelling the smoke in front of him.

He glanced at the wall clock; the hour hand was pointing to nine o'clock in the evening.

"Connect me to the front lines. I need to speak with Ludendorff," he ordered his adjutant.

He needed to know exactly how well that crazy airdrop plan was being executed; he needed to know every single detail.

To be honest, General Bilo completely disagreed with the plan from the very beginning.

Especially when he learned that the team carrying out this airborne operation was actually that precious training commando unit, he almost slammed his fist on the table and refused.

Ludendorff, what kind of international joke are you making!
He himself was reluctant to put this unit into the brutal assault, only thinking that they should follow behind and guard the supply train, acting as mascots.

As a result, Ludendorff actually planned to throw the General Staff's directly subordinate troops, the Crown Prince's most precious "toys," directly into enemy territory.

If something goes wrong, how will he explain it to the Crown Prince? How will he explain it to the General Staff? Will he say that he acted rashly and gave away this elite force?

But in the end, under Ludendorff's insistence, Bilough had no choice but to reluctantly agree to the plan.

Because Ludendorff told him that if they didn't do it this way, they would have to wait for the 'Big Berta' super siege guns to be transported to the front lines before they could launch an assault.

However, in terms of time, the transportation, installation and debugging alone will take at least ten days.

Ten days!

This number struck General Bilo like a heavy hammer. He could not bear this responsibility.

The training assault battalion is gone; at most, they will only be punished by the General Staff and His Highness the Crown Prince.

But if it affects the entire battle plan, he could face a military court!

Soon, the wired telephone line set up to the front line was connected. After a burst of noisy static from the receiver, Ludendorff's steady voice, tinged with weariness, rang out.

"General, it is I, Ludendorff."

"How is the plan going?" General Bilo asked bluntly.

"The airdrop is complete, and the armored airship has safely left enemy airspace," Ludendorff replied briefly.

"What's next? What do you plan to do?" General Bilo pressed, his tone revealing an urgency he himself didn't realize.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

Several seconds passed before Ludendorff's voice rang out again, but this time, there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Now, it's up to Captain Morin to create this miracle for us."

Inside the Liege fortress complex.

The wilderness was deathly silent under the cover of night.

Morin led his assembled commandos into a dense thicket of bushes, making final preparations for battle.

All twenty people were successfully assembled.

This relieved everyone, and at the same time, it made them even more in awe of their elusive superior.

"Check your equipment, especially your ammunition."

Morin lowered his voice and spoke to the soldiers surrounding him:

"We're about to pull off something big, so nobody messes up."

The soldiers immediately began checking their weapons and ammunition, the bolts rattling as they pulled, and the magazines in their chest pouches were repeatedly examined.

This 20-man assault team included two machine gunners carrying MG14 light machine guns, and two assistant gunners carrying MP14 submachine guns.

Each person's backpack contained no of the usual cumbersome equipment for marching; besides a water bottle, there were only two 250-round ammunition belts.

Of the remaining sixteen men, including Morin and Manstein, all but two of the highly skilled marksmen carried Lee-Enfield rifles captured from soldiers of the United Kingdom of Flanders were armed with MP14 submachine guns.

Besides the magazines and grenades carried on their chests, each person only had a water bottle and a small lantern for lighting in their backpack.

The remaining space was used to carry ammunition for the machine gun team and a lot of mechanically timed detonators.

Manstein crouched down next to Morin, nervously examining the MP14 submachine gun in his hands.

He still feels like he's dreaming.

He jumped from hundreds of meters in the sky and landed unharmed in the heart of the enemy territory. Then, in the pitch-black night, as if guided by something, he quickly found all his lost comrades.

All of this was beyond anything he had learned about military common sense in the past twenty years at military academy and the General Staff.

He glanced furtively at Morin beside him; the young captain was calmly checking his weapons and equipment, showing no sign of tension. "Sir, are we really going to attack the fortress command post next?" Manstein couldn't help but ask.

According to the original plan, they had three primary objectives: the fortress command post, the anti-aircraft magic device, and the magic hub.

Destroying the fortress command post can render the fortress complex commandless, while destroying the anti-aircraft magic device allows armored airships to carry out attacks safely, and destroying the magic power center can paralyze all devices within the fortress that require magic power.

However, all three objectives sound like they're at hellish difficulty.

“Of course,” Morin replied without looking up. “How could we justify taking such a big risk by jumping down like this if we didn’t pull off something big?”

He shoved the magazine, which he had checked for bullet alignment, into the gun with a "snap," then looked up at Manstein and grinned.

Very confident and optimistic.

Manstein: "."

The operations staff officer wanted to say something, but looking at Morin's confident face, somehow, the tension and fear in his heart actually dissipated a lot.

Perhaps this officer really does have some hidden trump card.

Just then, the roar of a vehicle engine came from afar.

Morin became alert almost instantly. He grabbed Manstein, who was about to get up, and at the same time made a 'hide' gesture to the soldiers around him.

Everyone quickly lowered their bodies and hid in the shadows of the roadside trees.

On the system map, a unit representing the Holy Britannian Empire was slowly moving towards them along a country road.

The small print under the soldier's tag is clearly marked: "Liaison Officer of the Brittany Expeditionary Force".

Brittanyians?

Morin was somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected the Brittanyans to arrive so early.

He straightened up, raised his binoculars, and looked in the direction from which the sound came.

Under the moonlight, two black four-wheeled cars were driving on the bumpy dirt road with their dim headlights on.

Morin recognized the car's appearance at a glance; wasn't this the Mercedes-Benz Hydralisk Powertrain?
It seems that before the war, the Saxon Empire and the United Kingdom of Flanders had quite a lot of business going on.

At the same time, a new idea flashed through Morin's mind like lightning.

His original plan was to disguise himself as a soldier of the United Kingdom of Flanders and try to infiltrate Liège.

But now.
As Morin watched the two cars getting closer and closer, an even bolder and more insane plan quickly took shape in his mind.

What if we could replace them?

Disguised as a liaison officer from Brittany, and accompanied by a Flemish officer, he entered Liège and headed straight for the command post.
Thinking of this, Morin's heart began to race.

The risks are enormous, but the rewards are equally enormous!

It's done!

"Attention everyone!"

Morin lowered his voice and quickly gave the order.

"Both machine gun teams, immediately take positions on the roadside and prepare to provide covering fire. Do not fire without my order!"

"Everyone else, take off your chest harnesses and come with me to the road!"

Soon, Morin led the remaining sixteen commandos to block the road, and deliberately placed the soldiers with Lee-Enfield rifles at the front.

He whispered to the crowd, "Keep calm, follow my orders, and don't speak. Hide your submachine guns on your backs!"

Although the commandos didn't understand what their superiors were going to do, they carried out the order without hesitation.

They held their breath, their hearts pounding, waiting for the two cars to arrive.

The headlights grew brighter and brighter, and the roar of the engine became clearer and clearer.

Morin took a deep breath, straightened his ill-fitting Flanders uniform, then picked up a lantern and strode to the middle of the road.

"parking!"

He shouted loudly in standard Dutch.

The screeching sound of brakes shattered the tranquility of the night sky.

The two Huijing Power vehicles stopped less than ten meters away from Molin.

The door of the car in front opened, and a Flemish officer wearing the rank of lieutenant stepped out of the passenger seat.

He looked very young, with a hint of displeasure and wariness on his face from being stopped.

"Who are you people? Why are you setting up a checkpoint here?"

He asked in Dutch with a heavy southern accent, his hand unconsciously resting on the pistol at his waist.

Mo Lin carried the lantern and walked over slowly, the dim light making it difficult to see his face clearly.

"Sir, we are from the 11th Brigade."

Morin replied in the same fluent Dutch, only his accent was more northern.

"The Saxons just launched an air raid on Liège, and the city is in chaos! Command has ordered us to tighten security on the surrounding roads and check all passing vehicles and personnel!"

He then 'kindly' reminded them, "This is just the first checkpoint; there are two more temporary checkpoints ahead, where the checks will be more stringent."

Hearing Morin's explanation, especially his authentic northern accent, the young lieutenant's vigilance visibly relaxed.

In this country where North-South tensions are acute, accents often represent a person's allegiance more than their military uniform.

"The 11th Brigade?" the lieutenant asked casually. "Which regiment are you from?"

(End of this chapter)