Chapter 166: Seizing Charleroi by Storm

Morin already felt things were turning bad when he heard the distinct sound of automatic weapons firing in the gunfire.

And the red unit tokens constantly refreshing on the system map confirmed his intuition.

The unit serving as the forward security detachment was the 1st Company’s 1st Platoon, who had engaged the enemy at the northern bridgehead of a bridge by the river.

Judging by the unit designation displayed on the enemy token—[Grand Duchy of Flanders Third Infantry Division – 11th Mixed Brigade – Remnants of the 31st Infantry Regiment]—they were indeed the garrison troops who had broken out from Liège Fortress.

Morin dared not delay, quickly leading the 2nd Company to press forward for support. After all, with only one platoon from the Assault Battalion at the front, they could easily be overwhelmed if the enemy fought desperately.

Charleroi at this time was far smaller than it was in the world Morin crossed from. Furthermore, there truly were no enemy forces in the North City besides civilians, so Morin and the 2nd Company quickly arrived at the riverbank.

The reinforced platoon responsible for forward security, leveraging the firepower that had swelled to 6 MG14 Light Machine Guns after two extra Light Machine Guns were attached, was currently using the stone low wall at the bridgehead for cover, firing onto the bridge and across the river.

Another group of soldiers was prone on the riverbank, firing toward the bridge piers.

Upon arriving, the 2nd Company quickly deployed along the riverbank under the command of Commander Wolff, then set up their guns and fired at the Flanders soldiers running back and forth on the opposite bank.

“Battalion Commander!”

Kahn, the 1st Company’s 1st Platoon Leader at the front, ran over, his face filled with relief, his voice tinged with lingering fear.

“When we got to the bridge, we just happened to run into almost a company of the enemy moving onto the bridge!”

“Both sides immediately opened fire. Our firepower was fierce, mowing down a large number, and they didn’t seem to expect us to be here!”

Kahn pointed to the bodies scattered across the bridge surface, continuing his report with lingering trepidation.

“But they seemed to be crazy, forcefully charging onto the bridge against our fire, leaving dozens of bodies at the bridgehead.”

“Also!”

He pointed down below the bridge.

“We found enemies approaching the bridge piers by small boat, apparently preparing to place explosives, but several were shot dead by the riflemen in our platoon!”

Morin breathed a sigh of relief after hearing the report.

Good thing. Good thing they arrived in time.

The spacious stone bridge before them was the largest and widest of the three bridges currently in Charleroi. If the enemy had blown it up, it would have significantly hindered the main force’s river crossing.

He also realized that infantry squads still needed some precise firepower to suppress distant enemies or carry out precise attacks. The MG14 Light Machine Gun and MP14 were excellent for fire suppression, but for precision suppression of certain targets, a semi-automatic rifle with decent firepower and accuracy was also essential…

“Tell everyone to be mindful of conserving ammunition, and focus fire on those attempting to approach the bridge piers!”

“Heaven knows how long we’ll have to fight here…”

After issuing the order to Kahn, Morin turned to 2nd Company Commander Wolff.

“Wolff, leave one platoon with me, then take one platoon to search and advance along the riverbank toward the bridge to the west, and send the other platoon to the east! Use a flare gun to signal immediately if there is an emergency!”

“Yes, Battalion Commander!”

Wolff acknowledged the order and immediately led two platoons in separate directions.

With the 2nd Company’s deployment, the firepower along the riverbank intensified several times over. A crossfire network formed by over a dozen MG14 Light Machine Guns completely sealed off the southern bank of the entire Sambre River.

The Flanders soldiers who had just rushed across the bridge and hadn’t had a moment to catch their breath were instantly stunned by the sudden, fierce barrage. They desperately returned fire from behind the buildings and sandbags on the south bank, but their single-shot rifles seemed so powerless against the relentless roar of the MG14.

Bullets crackled against the low walls and riverbanks in front of the Saxon soldiers, kicking up sparks and dust, but failing to cause effective casualties to the Assault Battalion soldiers hidden behind cover. Instead, any attempt they made to show their heads immediately drew the focused attention of several whips of fire.

In just a few minutes of engagement, although the 2nd Company suffered single-digit casualties in that short time, they still successfully suppressed the opposite bank, dozens of meters away, by relying on the firepower advantage provided by the Light Machine Guns.

The Grand Duchy of Flanders soldiers on the opposite bank clearly hadn’t expected the Saxons to arrive so quickly. After breaking out from Liège Fortress, they had marched with almost no rest, sustained only by the will to survive, finally reaching Charleroi as day broke. They had expected to catch a brief breath here, perhaps even receive support from their Gallic allies.

No one had imagined that just as they were preparing to destroy the bridges to delay the Saxon offensive and buy time for the Gallic Republic’s main force to arrive, the Saxons would pursue them so preposterously quickly. This was simply unreasonable!

Did they fly here?

A Major of the Grand Duchy of Flanders Army hid behind a broken wall, watching the continuous fall of his soldiers, his heart filled with despair and confusion. His name was Philippe, and he was the highest-ranking officer remaining in the remnants of the 31st Infantry Regiment. As for their Regimental Commander… he had vanished long ago.

When he escaped from the chaotic Liège Fortress, he wasn’t even sure what had happened, completing the breakout in a state of panic. He thought he was safe, but upon arriving here, he was caught up by the Saxons again before he could even destroy the bridges. And the firepower of this Saxon unit was completely illogical…

That damn firepower was absolutely not what an infantry squad should possess!

He knew that the Saxon squads were composed of two sections, and these squads seemed to possess one or two portable heavy machine guns… God knows how these Saxons managed to carry around heavy machine guns that should be fixed in fortress firing positions.

Now, any soldier who so much as showed his head would be torn apart by the dense rain of bullets. There was no way to organize any counterattack.

“Sir! We can’t hold out! The Saxon firepower is too fierce!” a junior officer scrambled over to Philippe, his face filled with terror. “Our demolition team is pinned down under the bridge and cannot get near the piers! If this continues, we will all die here!”

Philippe gritted his teeth, looking at the fire being relentlessly spat from the opposite bank. A deep sense of powerlessness washed over him. He knew they couldn’t continue like this. In a straight firepower fight, they were completely outmatched.

They had to find another way!

“Dispatch Rider! Dispatch Rider!” he roared toward the rear. “Go find the Gauls! Tell them the Saxon vanguard has reached Charleroi! Tell them to send reinforcements immediately! Immediately!”

Several Dispatch Riders on horseback immediately rushed out from deep within the South City, galloping toward Hirson in the Gallic Republic’s territory in the southwest, the location of the Gallic Fifth Army Group Headquarters.

Watching the Dispatch Riders ride away, Philippe took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do next. He drew the officer’s revolver from his waist and pointed it across the river.

“Soldiers! We shamefully abandoned the Liège Fortress. We have nowhere left to retreat to…” he yelled with all his strength. “All those who can still fight, follow me! We must hold them here and buy time for our allies to arrive!”

Under his rallying cry, the more than five hundred Flanders soldiers who chose to remain had a sense of resolve rekindled in their eyes. They knew this was a fight to the death, but they had no escape route.

Philippe knew that simply exchanging fire with the Saxons on the riverbank with his small force and lack of firepower advantage was futile… They had to draw the Saxons into the city! Only then could they maximally neutralize the enemy’s firepower advantage, trading space for time.

“Everyone! Retreat in batches! Enter the South City! Break into small groups and prepare for Street Fighting!” Philippe issued his final command. “The men previously under my command, follow me! Hold the bridgehead! Cover the others as they retreat into the city!”

He took a platoon of soldiers and moved to the vicinity of the South Bank bridgehead, preparing to make a final stand using the sparse cover available there.

Just as his troops began to move and the Dispatch Riders had only just left, a sudden anomaly occurred at the bridge. Philippe was watching the enemy’s movements on the North Bank through his binoculars when he was stunned to see a thick cloud of smoke suddenly rise onto the wide bridge surface. The smoke spread rapidly, covering the entire bridge in the blink of an eye and completely obscuring his vision.

“What is happening? What are the Saxons doing?” A strong sense of unease surged into Philippe’s heart.

He was about to order his nearby soldiers to prepare for the enemy when he saw an incredibly fast figure rush out of the smoke. The figure moved with unbelievable speed. The moment he burst out of the smoke, he executed a roll and dashed into the corner of a street directly opposite the bridge, disappearing from sight.

Simultaneously, two dark objects arced through the air, flying toward the position where he and his soldiers were located.

Philippe’s pupils immediately constricted. As an experienced veteran, he instantly realized what they were. He turned and waved his arm while throwing himself onto the ground.

“Grenades! Get down!”

Boom! Boom!

Two fierce explosions detonated right in the midst of Major Philippe and the soldiers around him. Hot blast waves, mixed with countless shrapnel fragments, swept outwards. Philippe felt a tremendous force push him violently to the ground. His ears were ringing, and he temporarily lost his hearing.

He lay on the ground, feeling a searing pain in his back. Blood instantly soaked his uniform. He struggled to lift his head, only to see a scene of hell. The dozen-plus soldiers who had been right beside him were mostly down, lying on the ground groaning in agony, completely out of the fight.

Soldiers who had not been affected rushed forward from a distance, trying to drag those on the ground toward the rear.

However, this was only the beginning of the Saxon attack.

(End of this Chapter)

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