Arc of Fire

In the year 914 of Jules, August 3rd, 0100 hours, Prosen Army, Asgard Knights Armored Division headquarters.

Major General William Dietrich scrutinized the disheveled sergeant from the armored reconnaissance company and asked, “What was the cause of the artillery fire just now?”

The sergeant said, “We had entered the village of Kiryalev, planning to spend the night there. The platoon leader discovered a sentry missing and was organizing a search when the shelling suddenly started. It was swift and fierce.

“Then, before we could react, we heard hoofbeats!”

“Hoofbeats?” Major General William Dietrich repeated, surprised.

“Yes, hoofbeats! Cavalry charged at us, firing with submachine guns and semi-automatic pistols, and throwing hand grenades and Molotov cocktails. We were caught off guard.

“The platoon leader planned to rush to Tank No. 2 and retaliate with its machine gun, but the tank was done in by a Molotov cocktail. In the end, I just jumped on the motorcycle and rode it back here.”

William Dietrich nodded, “It’s not your fault. You did well to come back; at least now we know what happened to the recon unit. Did you hear any identifying information about the enemy, like their unit number or anything?”

“I don’t understand Ante,” the sergeant said. “But I feel that the enemy’s uniforms don’t quite match those of the cavalry in the identification manual, missing the cloak.”

The sergeant saluted William Dietrich and turned to leave the armored command vehicle.

William Dietrich approached the map table and drew a circle around the village of Kiryalev with a pencil.

“The enemy’s artillery that could reach here… Where could it be?”

Chief of Staff: “Where else could it be? Orachi, of course! It commands a vital roadway, and there are woods nearby—it should be the best defensive position across this whole area.

“Tomorrow we can push up to here and deploy.”

As he spoke, the Chief of Staff picked up a pair of divider calipers used for drawing and sketched a line on the map with the pencil end.

Major General Dietrich nodded, “Let’s set off early in the morning. The recon company leads, with the main force’s First Armored Company directly behind. Once in position, the armored recon will advance, while the First Company will deploy into a Strike Formation.”

“Sounds reasonable. The Ante people will hide in fortified positions near the cities, just like before,” the Chief of Staff replied. “Furthermore, my division has the authority to directly command the Air Force’s 117th Recon Squadron. We can request a scout plane to conduct low-altitude reconnaissance along the road. The FW189 is reliable in this kind of bushy terrain.”

“Mhm, no problem,” Dietrich nodded.

In the year 914 of Jules, August 3rd, 0410 hours.

Wang Zhong rode Bucephalus to the first ambush site.

Grigori, carrying a red flag, followed him.

Seeing the red flag, many soldiers got excited and stepped out of cover.

“General! Will we strike the enemy hard today?”

“We will!” Wang Zhong said with certainty. “Today, we will utterly destroy them!”

Popov, who came with Wang Zhong, shouted, “Get back to your positions! Stay concealed! Today it’s about patience! If we are more patient than the enemy, we will win!”

While talking, Wang Zhong reached his beloved Tank 422’s hiding spot.

Tank 422 was parked at the very bottom of the hiding spot, covered with a camouflage net; even the red flag on the radio antenna was obscured by the hideout.

In a while, just a simple reverse, and Tank 422’s turret would be uncovered on the ground, incidentally revealing the red flag.

The enemy will certainly be taken by surprise.

A battalion of the 31st Guards hid in a W-shaped trench in front of the ambush position; they were responsible for blocking the enemy’s infantry, and for releasing smoke to cover the tanks and anti-tank guns when they had to withdraw from their positions.

On the side of the tank ambush position, there was an anti-tank gun platoon composed of four guns, whose mission was to strike the enemy’s flank when their tanks attempted to charge in for close combat.

Wang Zhong asked his gunner Alexandria, “How are the tanks?”

“Excellent,” replied the driver Beliyakov, “it has never been in better shape than it is now.”

Wang Zhong, “Then I’ll go check the condition of the other crews.”

This time Wang Zhong not only dug tank shelters but also, following the Soviet Army tactical manual from the Cold War era on Earth, he assigned observation sectors to each vehicle—that is, the areas they were to monitor closely.

This was incredibly important for the T34, which lacked situational awareness capability; if they only had to watch specific areas, they wouldn’t move their heads around randomly trying to locate targets with their tank periscopes.

Wang Zhong seriously suspected that the reason the Soviet Army during the Cold War did this was because they were terribly hampered by poor visibility during the big war.

After checking the status of each vehicle by walking around the ambush position, Wang Zhong rode Bucephalus to the very front of the entire position.

The commander of the first battalion of the 31st Regiment initiated contact, leaving his shelter to greet him: “General! We are ready!”

Wang Zhong, “Relax, the first engagement will be a pleasant ambush. Ideally, we will be targeting the enemy while they’re in march formation.”

The commander, “That would be great.”

Wang Zhong continued, “Your task is to lead your troops to capture the enemy’s equipment after the ambush is over and to ensure every tank is destroyed. Also, bury some of those modified hand grenades as booby-traps.”

The commander laughed, “Those corpse booby-traps? Just thinking about more Prussian ghosts getting killed by these things makes me especially happy.”

Wang Zhong also laughed, “Hahaha, exactly! These damned invaders all need to be dealt with sooner or later.”

Just then, Wang Zhong suddenly heard an engine sound from above; he hurriedly dismounted and pulled Bucephalus to hide under the trees alongside him.

Grigori also placed the red flag on the ground and covered it with fallen leaves.

In an instant, all signs of life in the entire thicket disappeared.

An FW189 flew by overhead.

Lieutenant Fox, a pilot of the 117th Reconnaissance Squadron of the Prussian Air Force, flew his reconnaissance plane along the crude roads of the Ante People.

The captain intelligence officer in the back seat kept observing the ground with binoculars, “Good, there’s nothing.”

At that moment, the radio inquired, “Owl Owl, do you see anything?”

“Wolf Wolf, all is normal, no trace of the enemy found.” The captain intelligence officer paused for a moment, “Repeat, no trace of the enemy found, we are approaching Orachi and still see no signs of the enemy!”

There was silence on the radio for about five seconds before the next message came through, “Continue reconnaissance, Wolf out!”

“Wolf out!” Vasily finished translating and turned to look at Pavlov, “I think this ‘Wolf’ might be ground forces, and ‘Owl’ is probably the reconnaissance plane.”

Pavlov, “Your deduction is truly marvelous!”

At that moment, the telephone rang, and Pavlov picked up the receiver, “This is Pavlov speaking. Mm-hmm? Have God’s Arrow Company been notified? Good, good, continue monitoring, Brother Peter. Over.”

Pavlov hung up the phone and looked at Vasily, “This owl seems to be an FW189 reconnaissance plane, and it’s about to be taken down by God’s Arrow Company. As for the wild wolf…”

Pavlov walked to the table and looked at the map found on a Prosen reconnaissance battalion officer captured yesterday. Pointing at the symbol-drawn shield on the map, he said, “I asked the erudite from the town, this rune is called Hook of the Wolf, and Wild Wolf must be the radio call sign of this division.”

“Now it all makes sense. We’re not facing a ragtag armored division that wiped out the Fifth Tank Army, but rather the freshly deployed elite Asgard Knights. We should notify the division commander of this.”

Wang Zhong held the handset, “You’re saying what we’re up against is the Knight Corps?”

“Yes, best to be careful.”

Wang Zhong stroked his chin and asked, “The prisoner from yesterday, is he alright? Didn’t show any supernatural signs, did he? Like sudden red eyes, or a thirst for blood, or turning into a werewolf under the moon?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Wang Zhong was actually somewhat concerned that the enemy might suddenly come up with some unscientific nonsense, since there was already the Divine Arrow and choral squads on his side, along with human radar.

If there were vampires from another world’s Sturmtiger, that would be normal, right?

In case the enemy suddenly started singing “The Devil’s Long Socks” with red glowing eyes, then—then they would just have to rely on the clergyman Popov.

But as it stands, the enemy is still human, at most, fanatically devout humans.

Pavlov said, “Nothing additional to report, the enemy’s reconnaissance plane has been shot down by Divine Arrow. The one who took action is your fiancée.”

Wang Zhong laughed, “She’s gotten quite adept at it.”

Ludmila, the nemesis of the Prosen reconnaissance planes. The FW189 reconnaissance plane goes by the nickname of “Owl,” so Ludmila might as well be known as the Owl Hunter, the terminator of Owls.

Just as Wang Zhong hung up the phone, another call came in.

The phones in these frontline communication bunkers are direct lines that don’t go through an operator; they connect directly one-to-one.

The phone that is now ringing connects to the advanced observation posts.

That’s why, when Wang Zhong heard the phone ring, he immediately ordered, “Prepare for battle; the enemy is coming!”

After saying that, he answered the phone, and sure enough, a hushed voice on the other end said, “The enemy has passed the observation post. The enemy has passed the observation post. Marching formation, no anomalies detected.”

“Understood, look for a chance to evacuate.”

The job of the observation posts is to provide early warning; once that’s done, they can slip away.

As Wang Zhong set down the handset, the walls of the bunker began to tremble.

The enemy was nearing.

Wang Zhong rushed out of the bunker towards his beloved vehicle.

Bucephalus wanted to follow but was bellowed at, “You stay put, stay back!”

The white horse shook its head and did not follow.

Just as Wang Zhong climbed into his tank, the enemy appeared.

The enemy’s vanguard consisted of a three-wheeled motorcycle and two wheeled reconnaissance vehicles, followed by a long column of tanks.

There were none of the Panzer I or Panzer II tanks used for padding; they were all Panzer III G models.

The biggest difference of the G model from the early versions Wang Zhong had faced before was the increased weight; with the G model, the Panzer III had become a true medium tank of 20 tons.

The most apparent benefit of the increased tonnage was enhanced protection.

Furthermore, the G model had a specialized commander’s cupola, improving situational awareness even further.

Seeing that commander’s cupola, Wang Zhong couldn’t help but feel envious, given that his own tanks were practically deaf and blind.

The lead tank of the enemy crossed a tree marked with white paint, indicating they had completely entered the ambush zone.

Wang Zhong ordered, “All tanks, move to firing position!”

The command delivered by radio, and then the platoon leaders relayed the orders to the nearby runners verbally.

Finally, the runners would run through the communication trenches to each bunker to pass the orders to the tank operators.

Without radios, it was just more complicated.

The entire ambush site roared with the sound of engines.

Wang Zhong’s Tank 422 had already started backing up, so he appeared as if sprouting from the ground in the turret hatch.

With a clearer view, Wang Zhong saw the enemy tank commanders also heard the engines and were looking over in confusion.

It was then that the gunner, Alexandria, fired—despite the tank still not being steady.

The armor-piercing shell hit the side of the enemy’s lead tank, setting its engine aflame.

The burning Prosen tank operators scrambled out of the tanks, rolling on the ground.

The northernmost tank at the ambush site also fired, hitting the rear tank of the enemy accurately.

Now, the entire battalion of 44 Panzer IIIs and 19 Panzer IVs were trapped on the road!

Wang Zhong’s 30 T34 tanks unleashed furious fire, armor-piercing shells shooting through the woods at the enemy.

The machine guns of the 31st Regiment’s 1st Battalion also sounded, mowing down the accompanying enemy infantry like cutting grass.

The enemy began releasing smoke and reversed towards the west side of the road, trying to break away.

Thus, they exposed their flank to the 45mm anti-tank guns hidden on the flanks of the ambush site.

The four anti-tank guns fired madly.

The enemy released even more smoke.

But the smoke had no effect on Wang Zhong’s dominating perspective, as he clearly saw the remaining 18 tanks of the enemy retreating backward, completely demoralized.

The first ambush utterly destroyed an enemy tank battalion!

The enemy left behind no fewer than 45 tank wrecks!

Wang Zhong couldn’t help but burst into laughter, for this was indeed the famed tactic of another world’s elite First Guards Tank Brigade—so effective!

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