Chapter 148: Armored Airships Are More Than Just Big!

“5 near misses! All guns, reset firing parameters based on calibration data!”

Inside the transparent observation gondola beneath the bridge of the Zeppelin Armored Airship, the Observer grabbed the nearby call device and shouted loudly into the microphone.

His forehead was slick with nervous sweat, and his eyes were fixed through binoculars on the Barchon Fortress below.

The shell impacts from the previous salvo had been wildly off-target.

This was unavoidable. As soon as the ‘Meuse River Battle Group’ ground troops approached the outer perimeter of the fortress, they were pinned down by the enemy’s fortress defense fire and could not provide target guidance.

Therefore, the airship had to observe and self-correct based on the impact points, much like a navy warship engaging in shore bombardment.

Looking down from the air, the entire Liège Fortress cluster resembled a giant monster.

Twelve fortresses, spaced every four to six kilometers, encircled the city of Liège like a ring.

The reinforced concrete fortresses and the temporary trenches dug around them made the Observer’s heart quail just by looking; it felt as if this place could hold off a million troops.

The Gunners in the four turrets on the airship frantically adjusted the firing parameters. The 203mm Twin-barreled turrets slowly adjusted their angle with a creaking sound of metal transmission.

Soon, the second attack began.

This time, the shells from the four Twin-barreled 203mm guns finally found their mark, with most of them smashing onto the top of the Barchon Fortress.

Deafening explosions followed one another, and black columns of smoke rose into the sky.

The Saxon soldiers waiting to attack around the Barchon Fortress cheered when they saw this sight.

Thick smoke billowed, obscuring the view.

The Observer nervously held his binoculars, waiting for the smoke to dissipate.

After a good while, when the gunpowder smoke was blown away by the wind and the outline of the Barchon Fortress reappeared, the Observer couldn’t help but gasp.

The fortress was completely intact.

Other than some sooty explosion marks on the surface, not a single stone had fallen off.

“Attack ineffective, repeat, attack ineffective…”

The Observer’s voice sounded somewhat bitter as he reported the frustrating result to the Bridge.

On the Bridge, the Captain of the L28 Armored Airship, a middle-aged man with a Saxon-style large beard, grew increasingly grim upon hearing the report.

He glanced at the Air Officer beside him, who also looked solemn.

“It seems the intelligence from the Military Intelligence Department was correct,” the Captain said in a low voice. “These tortoise shells are indeed immune to artillery attacks below 210mm caliber.”

The Air Officer nodded and sighed: “If the Army hadn’t requested assistance from our Air Force in advance, relying solely on themselves, who knows how many lives they would have to sacrifice to chew through this hard nut.”

Just then, a harsh ringing sound echoed behind the Captain’s seat.

He strode over and picked up what looked like a phone handset.

This was a combined communication system ‘borrowed’ from the Navy, utilizing a mix of wired telephones and brass voice tubes.

The wired telephone, which had a small internal exchange, was the primary communication device, connecting the entire deck from end to end.

The brass voice tubes were used for short-distance communication between cabins or as an emergency backup communication method.

“This is the Bridge,” the Captain said into the handset.

The urgent voice of the Gunnery Officer came through the earpiece: “Bridge, this is the Fire Control Center! Conventional ammunition shelling is ineffective. Request permission to switch to Heavy Siege Shells!”

“That’s what I intended!” The Captain agreed without a second thought. “How long will it take for each turret to change to Heavy Siege Shells?”

Gunnery Officer: “Reporting, Captain, after seeing the fortress information during the operational meeting, I had people transport the Heavy Siege Shells near the gun positions in advance. We can load them immediately!”

“Well done! From now on, the Fire Control Center will directly command the attack. Do not report to the Bridge unless there are special circumstances!”

“Yes, Captain, end of call!”

The order was given, and the four turrets immediately began to switch ammunition.

The Heavy Siege Shells being loaded into the 203mm Naval Cannons looked no different from conventional shell types, but their internal structure was completely different, and they were inscribed with large numbers of complex Runes on the inner layer of the warhead.

Soon, loading was complete.

“Fire!” the Gunnery Officer commanded.

A continuous roar of cannon fire erupted again, the sound more muffled this time.

The exiting shells traced an eerie blue arc in the air, accurately hitting the top of the Barchon Fortress.

“Boom!”

The explosion light carried a strange blue-purple hue, clearly amplified by some form of Magic Guided Technology.

When the smoke and dust dispersed again, the Observer yelled excitedly: “Attack effective! Repeat! Attack effective! I see the area around the turret on top of the fortress has collapsed!”

His voice quickly transmitted through the wired telephone to the Fire Control Center and the Bridge; everyone was instantly galvanized.

“Continue the attack! All gun positions, Fire at Will!” the Gunnery Officer ordered without hesitation.

The armored airship adjusted its posture slightly and clumsily in the air, and the muzzles pointed once again at the scarred fortress.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The cannon fire came from the sky again. Just as all the Saxon soldiers on the airship and the ground were filled with anticipation, waiting to see the Barchon Fortress completely demolished, a sudden change occurred.

A faint blue light screen suddenly emerged from above the fortress, enveloping the entire structure like an inverted bowl.

The newly fired shells crashed right onto this light screen.

The fierce explosion covered the entire fortress just as before, but this time it was completely blocked by the blue Magic Shield.

“A large-scale Magic Guided Protection Array for the fortress?!” The key phrase flashed through the Captain’s mind.

But before he could say anything, a technician on the Bridge responsible for operating the Magic Guided Detection Equipment suddenly screamed in terror:

“A massive Magic Power Reaction detected from the ground! The energy index is extremely strong!”

The Captain’s heart sank suddenly, and an ominous thought instantly flashed through his mind—another piece of intelligence mentioned by the Military Intelligence Department: the Grand Duchy of Flanders had acquired a batch of large Magic Guided Weapons from the Britannian people earlier this year!

“Helmsman, emergency evasion! Maximum output for the whole airship’s Magic Shield!” he roared.

The Helmsman violently spun the rudder, and the colossal airship began to turn awkwardly in the air.

But the maneuverability of such a massive object was too poor; it simply couldn’t move fast.

Just as the airship had only slightly deviated from its course, three blinding red beams of light shot up from the ground, instantly hitting the airship’s belly.

The airship’s own Magic Shield immediately reacted violently upon contact with the red light beams. Blue electric arcs flashed madly across the shield’s surface, emitting a series of thunderous blasts.

That terrifying scene was clearly visible to Morin and others miles away.

“Holy cow…” Morin’s jaw nearly dropped. “No way? They have high-energy anti-air lasers too?”

Kleist and Manstein beside him were also stunned, completely speechless.

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

The armored airship in the sky was not shot down instantly, but the Magic Shield that enveloped it completely dissipated under the terrifying attack.

On the airship’s Bridge, everyone was scared out of their wits by the recent strike.

They were the closest to the intense Magic Power Reaction; for a moment, they genuinely thought they were finished.

The harsh alarm sounded again.

The Captain grabbed the telephone: “This is the Bridge. What was that just now?!”

“Reporting, Bridge! The Magic Shield unit is completely disabled! Technicians are in emergency repair, but it cannot be reactivated in the short term!” The trembling voice of the Airship Control Group Liaison came through the earpiece.

“What was the enemy’s attack?”

“Based on the Magic Guided Technician’s assessment, it appears to be a [Shimmer Ray] fired by a large-scale Magic Guided Device!”

“I don’t care what kind of damned ray it is!” the Captain yelled exasperatedly. “I just want to know if we can withstand another hit?!”

The other end of the line was silent for a few seconds, then a dejected answer came: “Reporting, Captain… without the Magic Shield, we can’t withstand it…”

Hearing this reply, the Captain felt all the strength drain from his body.

He glanced at the fortress below, which seemed to harbor a lurking demon, gritted his teeth, and issued the order he was most reluctant to give.

“Helmsman, maintain evasive maneuvers and get us out of here!”

The huge armored airship slowly turned around in the sky, fleeing the battlefield in disarray like a wounded behemoth.

This scene severely demoralized the attacking Saxon soldiers below, while the defenders inside the Liège Fortress burst into earth-shattering cheers.

Morin lowered his binoculars, his heart also chilled.

The Liège Fortress in this world, after employing Magic Guided Technology, was much harder to breach than he had imagined.

“This is trouble now…” he muttered to himself. “At this rate, will we really be bogged down here for several days?”

When Morin led the Instruction Assault Battalion, following orders, to the assembly area of the Supply Train and Field Hospital behind the Army Group, dusk was already setting in.

The air here was filled with a pungent smell, a mix of strong blood and medicine.

Horse-drawn carts and trucks continuously retreated from the front line, loaded with groaning casualties.

The Field Hospital was set up on an open grassy area; the temporarily erected tents were brightly lit and crowded with people.

Doctors and nurses were scrambling, not having time to attend to the newly arrived troops.

The Instruction Assault Battalion’s soldiers, under Morin’s command, spread out around the hospital and Supply Train, constructing makeshift defensive works.

This was their first close-up encounter with the brutality of war.

Apart from the veterans of the 1st Company who had fought in Aragon, the soldiers of the other three companies were elite veterans from the Imperial Guards and Jäger units, but they had not experienced actual combat.

Before, perhaps they were still full of romantic fantasies and aspirations for glory, but the scene before them was like a basin of ice water poured harshly over their feverish heads.

They saw the wounded being carried off the vehicles, some missing limbs, others with abdominal wounds still bleeding profusely.

One young soldier had half his face burned off and could only let out indistinct wails.

The good news was that while no one vomited, most were pale-faced, their eyes filled with confusion.

The easy, confident atmosphere from their time on the train and march was completely gone.

“Sir, there are too many wounded from the front line; the hospital simply doesn’t have enough staff.”

Kleist walked up to Morin, his face equally grim.

Morin glanced at the Field Hospital nearby and nodded: “Have the 1st Company and 4th Company stay on alert. You take the 2nd Company and 3rd Company over to help. Every little bit helps.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Kleist left with the order, and soon, the Instruction Assault Battalion’s soldiers joined the ranks of rescuing the wounded under the guidance of doctors and nurses.

They helped carry stretchers, pressed gauze onto wounds, and comforted those who were emotionally distraught.

Morin himself walked toward the wounded’s disembarkation point, hoping to find an officer who had retreated from the front line to ask for the specific situation.

He quickly found his target: a Major with a thick bandage wrapped around his shoulder, directing his subordinates to lift the wounded from a truck.

“Major, I am Captain Friedrich Morin, Battalion Commander of the Imperial Guards First Instruction Assault Battalion.”

Morin stepped forward and saluted first.

The Major, seeing Morin’s rank and armband and hearing the prefix ‘Imperial Guards,’ returned the salute.

“Hello, Captain. I am from the 27th Infantry Brigade.”

“What is the situation at the front?” Morin asked directly.

The Major shook his head, pointing to the wounded being continuously transported behind him: “You see for yourself, it’s very unsuccessful… The ‘Meuse River Battle Group’s’ attack today was basically crippled.”

He took a pack of crumpled cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Morin.

Morin waved his hand, indicating he didn’t smoke.

The Major lit one for himself, took a deep drag, and then continued: “That damned place Liège is like a steel hedgehog! Their defensive fire is too fierce, a mix of Magic Crystal Cannons and conventional artillery. Our men couldn’t charge up at all.”

“Conventional artillery?” Morin frowned.

“Yes, and damn it, it’s the 210mm howitzers we customized at our own Krupp Armory before the war!”

The Major cursed vehemently.

“The shells rained down on us, combined with the Airburst Fragmentation fired by the Magic Crystal Cannons. Our men were mowed down like wheat, row after row.”

Hearing this, Morin’s heart sank even further.

Krupp’s 210mm howitzer is now the largest caliber artillery in the Saxon Army’s field units. Now, for it to be used against them by the enemy, this battle was too frustrating.

Morin certainly knew that the Saxon people in this world had probably also developed the ‘Big Bertha.’

But Morin felt that a thing that takes six hours to install and requires over 200 men to operate could not be counted as a field gun.

“We organized several charges, all of which failed… The corpses outside the fortress are almost piled up like mountains.”

The Major seemed to be recalling the previous fighting, his voice tinged with fear.

“Even those who managed to survive and reach the artillery blind spots were riddled with holes by their rifles and machine guns.”

“They connected every fortress with trenches and also deployed Barbed Wire. Although it looks simple, it is a death zone we cannot cross.”

Morin fell silent. He clearly understood the effect of the combination of trenches, Barbed Wire, and machine guns.

“General Emmich is going crazy. He’s thrown all his reserves in, and it’s still no use.”

The Major took another drag from his cigarette, staring blankly into the distance.

“In just one day, our Battle Group has suffered at least three thousand casualties…”

Three thousand casualties!

This number tightened Morin’s chest. He found that the attack intensity of the ‘Meuse River Battle Group’ in this world seemed to be greater than the timeline he was familiar with.

The two chatted a bit more, and Morin learned more details about the front line from the Major.

The fighting continued until dark, with both sides exhausted.

The Saxon Army’s multiple attacks were repulsed, and morale was low.

The Flanders defenders, although paying a heavy price, successfully held their positions by relying on the sturdy 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 in silence, their expressions heavy.

The brutality of war was displayed before them in the most direct and bloody way.

The casual fantasy of ‘parading in Paris in the autumn’ was completely shattered.

Morin did not attempt to comfort them. He knew some things must be internalized and adapted to on their own.

He simply walked silently to the edge of the camp, looking at the sky over the Liège Fortress direction, a sky shrouded in smoke and fire.

Time passed minute by minute. At 8:30 PM, a Dispatch Rider galloped into the Instruction Assault Battalion’s camp.

“Sir! Emergency order from Army Group Command Post!”

(End of this Chapter)