As the suicide squad made their safe return journey after their perilous mission, Lin Yu was suddenly struck by a question.
She lightly nudged Yang Xi’s side with her elbow, “How did the artillery strike get called in? Were carrier pigeons really that fast?”
Lin Yu’s question was overheard by the squad leader, who quickly interjected with an answer, “What era do you think this is? How could we still be using carrier pigeons? Communications between units have long since adopted magic technology.”
The squad leader gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. A long, antenna-like object protruded from the ‘satchel of explosives’ he carried on his back; it looked just like a communications backpack.
It might very well have been some miniaturized magical radio, similar to the equipment Lin Yu had seen in Lieutenant Xia’s frontline command post.
“So, you… communicated with the rear artillery units… using this?”
“If we had waited for carrier pigeons, you two would likely have been dead under enemy fire by now… Stop chattering and hurry up; delays only invite trouble.”
They were retreating along the riverbank, behind them stretched a long fuse, meant to detonate the explosives. Upon receiving the command, it would instantly be ignited to destroy the bridge.
Anything the Diacla army couldn’t hold, even if destroyed, must not fall into the hands of the Lanforthian devils.
Lin Yu understood this sentiment perfectly. The only thing she couldn’t comprehend was why they hadn’t blown it up sooner.
If, on the very first day the Reserve 104th Regiment arrived to garrison the Mang River, Commander Mo had steeled his heart and blown up the bridge, then led his troops to retreat to the right bank, building fortifications along the river to hold their ground… none of this mess would have happened.
This entire battle had been a mistake from beginning to end. Neither the Lanforthian nor the Diacla armies should have lost so many lives over this accursed bridge.
There was nothing to be done; their greed had brought this upon them.
****
Flares continued to ascend, one after another, providing only intermittent and extremely limited illumination to the dim night.
Each flare’s ascent and subsequent fading was like the rising and setting of a sun, only this ‘sun’ seemed to rise almost exclusively from the west.
Pale, stark light shone upon the shell-cratered riverbanks and defensive positions. Newly laid barbed wire gleamed with a chilling glint.
Occasionally, unburied bodies could be seen, strewn haphazardly across both banks of the river, a truly horrifying sight.
The forces dispatched by the Diacla side had accomplished their mission and begun to withdraw. What actions, then, was the Lanforthian side taking?
[This is proof of the enemy’s full retreat.] The corpulent officer who had assumed command judged thus. [They knew they could no longer withstand our offensive, so they deployed their last available artillery in an attempt to destroy the railway bridge—evidently, they failed to do so.]
No one bothered to point out that this assessment had actually originated from the bedridden Major and regimental commander.
Within the offensive plan, he had formulated different contingencies for various Diacla army reactions. In this precise moment and situation, his recommendation was: resolute pursuit.
The Diacla forces on the contact line had fled in disarray, no longer harboring any hope of counterattacking to reclaim the railway bridge. Even their final artillery barrage, meant as a last resort, had failed to destroy the bridge.
The Lanforthian army had seized a nearly pristine railway bridge. Soon, the supply line from Tuo City directly to Pingyuan City would be opened, and the Mang River campaign would conclude with a moderate victory for the Lanforthian army.
The reason it wasn’t called a ‘great victory’ was due to the high casualties sustained. Compared to their previous string of continuous successes, this particular battle seemed less glorious.
[The bedridden Major Lawrence also made this assessment, didn’t he?]
At the end of his pronouncement, the corpulent officer finally refrained from claiming the plan as his own. Instead, he affirmed the prior work of the regimental commander on the sickbed.
[Need I remind you again, sir, that you are now the supreme commander of the frontline forces?]
[Then, a full-scale offensive. All troops that have crossed to the opposite bank, and all troops remaining on the left bank, are to engage in pursuit. Ideally, we will seize a significant depth of territory, allowing our army to deploy and rotate for rest at a more forward position.]
Under the command of their newly appointed officer, the Lanforthians chose a full-scale pursuit.
Due to the narrowness of the bridge and its limited capacity, some units even opted to wade across the river directly, rather than crowding onto the mere dozen-meter-wide railway bridge with their comrades, inching forward at a snail’s pace.
Only a bare minimum of troops were left behind to guard the command post, artillery units, and logistics personnel, as well as the railway bridge, which had been captured at the cost of countless lives.
Cross the river! Cross the river! Attack! Attack! Push the front lines to seize total victory!
The corpulent officer, gesturing grandly over the map, must have been shouting these impassioned words in his heart, wasn’t he?
****
On the opposite side of the sand table, the regimental commander of the Diacla army’s Reserve 104th Regiment, his opponent in this grim game, was far more circumspect. He meticulously monitored the speed of each unit’s withdrawal, ordering his 督战队 (TL Note: Battlefield execution squads, typically used to ensure soldiers do not retreat or flee without orders.) to rush about, ensuring that the orderly retreat did not devolve into a full-blown rout.
He even personally visited the re-established artillery positions, instructing the hastily gathered soldiers firsthand on how to fire according to the firing tables. The special operations squad he had dispatched earlier had requested artillery support, and it was he who had personally adjusted the cannons to deliver that round of support.
Naturally, he was also in contact with the commander of the 136th Infantry Brigade, coordinating his own deployments with the brigade’s movements.
Approximately an hour ago, he had drawn two large arrows on the operational map.
One represented all the forces under his command, boldly withdrawing simultaneously from their pre-arranged defensive positions, creating the illusion for the Lanforthians that they had decided to abandon the Mang River bank.
The other arrow denoted the over three thousand hungry light infantry of the 136th Infantry Brigade. Traveling light, they were about to exhaust their rations during the retreat, and despite half a day’s rest, they were entirely lacking in heavy weaponry.
Once his forces retreated, luring the Lanforthian army to advance en masse, and the other force blocked them, it would be a perfect 瓮中捉鳖 (TL Note: A Chinese idiom meaning ‘to catch a turtle in a jar,’ referring to trapping an enemy in an inescapable situation for a complete annihilation.).
If the enemy army would only dance to their tune as planned, they would surely be able to fight a beautiful battle of annihilation, wouldn’t they?
Fine ingredients often require only the simplest cooking methods, and classic battles frequently demand only the most straightforward tactical skills.
An inflexible general would lead the Lanforthian army down a road of no return, and this bridge would once again be stained with countless lives.
In reality, the plan was not as straightforward as it seemed.
Commander Mo was uncertain whether his ‘feigned retreat’ would be turned into a genuine rout by the Lanforthian pursuit. Nor was he sure if the 136th Infantry Brigade, hidden in ambush on the left bank of the Mang River, possessed the capability to attack and fully seize the bridge.
The complete annihilation of the invading enemy, like ‘catching a turtle in a jar,’ was merely the most ideal outcome of this plan. Thus, he had also dispatched a contingency: Lin Yu’s squad, disguised as Lanforthians, sent to blow up the bridge.
He himself was unaware that Lin Yu was among them. He had simply followed his intuition, recruiting seasoned veterans and individuals fluent in the Lanforthian tongue from within the army.
It was only because Yang Xi, driven by a profound sense of duty to serve his country, had volunteered to participate, that, by a strange twist of fate, Lin Yu had also been drawn into the squad.
Now, he had received confirmation that the explosives had been set. Should the Lanforthians retain sufficient forces to thwart the 136th Brigade’s offensive, he could still issue a single command to have the volunteers demolish the railway bridge.
By having the surging waters of the Mang River act as the ‘jar’ to trap these aggressive Lanforthian ‘green-shelled turtles’, this plan was so ingenious it could make Lin Yu erupt in a fit of excitement, shouting, “Throw all these pests into the river to feed the fish!”
No, that wasn’t right. She would likely mourn these needlessly lost lives, even if they were currently her enemies.
For this reason, Commander Mo had specifically consulted the General Staff, inquiring whether explosives could also be simultaneously deployed and detonated in the reservoir upstream of the Mang River, and he had received an affirmative reply.
Once the flood crest from the breached reservoir reached the battlefield, the calm, wadeable river would transform into an impassable chasm, intercepting every last Lanforthian on the opposite bank.
At that point, they would truly be beyond all help, with no one to appeal to. With the bridge destroyed, any hope of a triathlon-like swim back would be exceedingly slim.
Victory was silently slipping from their grasp, yet, those involved remained completely oblivious.
****
As the side poised for victory, Lin Yu and her squad, however, felt no joy. Instead, they were gripped by fear.
Thousands of Lanforthian soldiers surged from the left bank, pouring across the bridge, beneath it, and even wading directly through the river, pressing like a dark tide towards the right bank.
They hadn’t managed to get too far from the railway bridge, and were therefore practically surrounded by the Lanforthian soldiers. To ensure the explosives could be detonated, and limited by the fuse length, they couldn’t have gone much further anyway.
Fortunately, the enemy’s sole focus was to cross the river and attack, paying little heed to the dozen or so ‘stragglers’ on the riverbank.
Once again, they had fooled the Lanforthian soldiers, being mistaken for friendly forces and thus left unmolested.
Alas, good luck always runs out.
The long fuse left behind them unfortunately tripped a Lanforthian soldier. As he quietly grumbled, “Why is there a rope in this cursed place?” he noticed one end of the rope extended towards the bridge.
Driven by curiosity, he detached himself from the marching column and cautiously took a few steps in that direction.
The person responsible for deploying and managing the fuse felt it tighten in their hand, and their face immediately turned ashen.