Chapter 167: Lost Contact

Just as the smoke from the explosion had not yet dissipated, more hand grenades suddenly flew out from the thick smoke covering the bridge surface.

The black iron lumps rained down overwhelmingly onto the small area of the South Bank bridgehead.

This was followed by a continuous series of fierce explosions.

The spherical hand grenades currently equipped by the Saxon Army are not actually very powerful, but the Assault Battalion soldiers threw so many at once…

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

The makeshift sandbag barricades and the vicinity were instantly blasted, sending sand and dust flying.

The soldiers who survived the grenade rain were completely stunned by the terrifying explosions. Who fights a war by throwing this many grenades?

“Da-da-da-da-da!”

Just then, the sound of submachine gun fire rang out from within the smoke. Dozens of soldiers wearing Saxon uniforms charged out like demons from the smoke, firing frantically toward their position.

Bullets sprayed out as if free, hitting the sandbags that were conveniently shielding Philippe, creating dull, thudding sounds. The sandbags were rapidly torn open, and sand continuously streamed out.

“Are they all carrying heavy machine guns?!” Philippe, who was pinned down behind a makeshift barricade, couldn’t help but complain as he lay on the ground listening to the thudding bullets against the sandbags in front of him.

This density of firepower was outrageous! He had never seen fighting like this in his life!

Several nearby soldiers, urged on by the shouts of their Section Leaders, attempted to peer out from behind cover and return fire. But the moment they revealed themselves, a burst of blood exploded from their heads and torsos, and they slumped softly to the ground like broken cloth. Blood and brains splattered across the faces of their comrades.

This terrifying scene completely shattered the courage of all those remaining. No one dared to peek out and exchange fire with the Saxons anymore, because that wasn’t an exchange of fire—it was unilateral suicide!

The Saxon fire suppression seemed endless. After the main force rushed over the bridgehead, Morin immediately commanded two Machine Gunners to set up two MG14 Light Machine Guns on a second-floor window opposite the barricade, completely sealing off the area.

“Da-da! Da-da-da!”

The two Light Machine Guns engaged in short, accurate bursts of alternating fire, fiercely pinning down the residual garrison behind the barricade.

Simultaneously, the soldiers of the 2nd Company’s 1st Platoon rapidly dispersed according to the assault tactics they had trained countless times for. They advanced in 20-man squads, providing alternating cover, sticking close to the buildings along the street, and quickly closed the distance to about twenty meters.

“Grenades!” Following the Platoon Leader’s command, another dozen or so grenades were thrown into the already battered and bruised barricade.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The new round of explosions completely ended the resistance of Philippe and the soldiers under his command. The blast wave flung Major Philippe backward. He slammed heavily into the wall behind him, immediately falling unconscious, his fate unknown.

The soldiers who survived the grenade rain had not even recovered from the concussive stun when they saw a group of Saxon soldiers charging toward them. They were greeted by the dark muzzles of submachine guns and a near-impenetrable rain of bullets.

The battle ended in a mere ten seconds. The platoon of Flanders soldiers responsible for the rearguard, along with their commander, Major Philippe, was swiftly and devastatingly defeated by the 2nd Company’s 1st Platoon.

Morin quickly walked across the still-smoking bridge surface to the South Bank bridgehead. Looking at the chaotic battlefield and the corpses covering the ground, he felt no sense of ease.

On the system map, the red unit tokens representing the Flanders soldiers had not disappeared. On the contrary, large numbers of red tokens had broken into smaller groups, scattering into every corner of the South City. Since he had lost visual sight of them, Morin could only see the last location they disappeared from.

“They really intend to fight us in Street Fighting…” Morin muttered to himself.

He knew that with the Assault Battalion’s firepower advantage and training level, dealing with these routed troops was no problem. But the issue was that he currently only had the strength of one company on hand. If he committed all his troops to clearing the residual enemy forces in the South City, the safety of the other two bridges could not be guaranteed. If those two bridges were destroyed by enemies hiding in the shadows, the loss would be immense.

After weighing the pros and cons, Morin made a quick decision. 2nd Company Commander Wolff had already led the other two platoons to control the other two bridges on the Sambre River. So, what Morin needed to do now was take the remaining platoon, plus the 1st Company’s 1st Platoon that had scouted ahead, and hold this most important central bridge, waiting for the follow-up troops to arrive.

Soon, gunfire erupted from the direction of the other two bridges as well.

However, the gunfire was not intense and quickly subsided. On the system map, the green unit tokens representing the 2nd Company’s two platoons quickly annihilated the few red enemy tokens near the two bridges.

All three bridges were successfully secured!

Morin felt half the burden lift from his mind.

He checked his watch. Almost twenty minutes had passed since he sent the Dispatch Rider back with the message. By now, the Dispatch Rider should have arrived at the temporary camp.

“I hope Kleist is quick-witted enough…” Morin stood at the bridgehead, looking toward the North City, silently praying.

He was severely limited in manpower now and urgently needed support from the main force.

On the other side, the Dispatch Rider sent by Morin galloped back, reaching the wooded area three kilometers north of Charleroi City in about ten minutes.

“Commander Kleist! Battalion Commander’s order! The main force must advance toward the Charleroi urban area immediately! The enemy is attempting to destroy the bridges!” The Dispatch Rider dismounted, unable even to catch his breath, and relayed Morin’s order to Kleist, who was commanding the troops to set up camp defenses.

Hearing this news, Kleist and Lieutenant Manstein instantly changed expression. Kleist’s mind worked rapidly. He made the correct assessment with almost no hesitation.

“Lieutenant Manstein!” he shouted: “You immediately take the 3rd Company… and, yes, the remaining soldiers of the 1st Company, and board the Military Trucks that haven’t been driven in yet! Rush to the North City to support the Battalion Commander at maximum speed!”

“Yes!” Manstein wasted no words and immediately turned to gather the troops.

“Signals Platoon! Set up the antenna immediately! Attempt to establish liaison with the Battle Group Command Post!” Kleist roared at the Signals Platoon Leader on the other side.

“Supply Train Company! Bring all the horse-drawn carriages forward; we will likely need ammunition resupply at the front! The 4th Company continues perimeter security!”

Commands flowed systematically from Kleist’s mouth. The Deputy Battalion Commander, who usually seemed to follow Morin’s lead, demonstrated astonishing command ability and decisiveness at this critical moment.

Watching the more than twenty Military Trucks, loaded with soldiers from the 1st Company and 3rd Company, drive rapidly toward Charleroi trailing black smoke, Kleist quickly had the remaining vehicles parked. He walked over to the Signals Platoon, who were frantically setting up the antenna, and asked anxiously.

“Well? Have you established contact?”

The Signals Platoon Leader wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head, his face full of frustration. “No, Sir… We are too far from Liège here; we are already beyond the range of this radio! That’s why we couldn’t connect yesterday, too.”

“We’ve been trying for half an hour, and we can’t receive even a single signal!”

“Damn it!” Kleist cursed under his breath.

He realized they were now completely cut off from the main force in the rear. The Instruction Assault Battalion seemed to have become an isolated force…

“We must inform the Battle Group about the situation in Charleroi!” This thought instantly flashed through Kleist’s mind.

He knew exactly why Morin had led the entire battalion in a mad rush to this location. It was to seize Charleroi before the enemy could react, opening a passage for the entire Battle Group, and indeed the entire Second Army Group’s, subsequent offensive.

Now, although they had successfully arrived and engaged the enemy, they had also become a completely exposed, isolated force. If the enemy—especially the main force of the Gauls—reacted and launched a counterattack, the Instruction Assault Battalion, with only one battalion’s strength, would have no chance of holding the city. At that point, let alone opening a passage for the main force, their own survival would be questionable.

Therefore, he had to establish contact with General Ludendorff immediately, inform him of everything that had happened here, and urge him to bring the main force forward as quickly as possible!

Thinking this, Kleist hesitated no longer. He immediately found the Logistics Officer who had been assigned to help manage the vehicles.

“Lieutenant, I need your help!” Kleist’s tone was extremely serious. “Please immediately find me two Military Trucks in the best condition!”

The Logistics Officer clearly sensed the tense atmosphere. He asked no questions and immediately took a few drivers to select the two Military Trucks in the best current condition from the remaining vehicles.

“Also, go to the Signals Platoon and find a few Dispatch Riders who can ride well!” Kleist ordered his Aide-de-Camp.

Soon, three Saxon soldiers who served as cavalry Dispatch Riders in the Battalion Headquarters Signals Platoon brought their horses before Kleist.

“The three of you, immediately follow these two Military Trucks and return to Liège at full speed along the road we came on!” Kleist looked at the three soldiers, his voice heavy. “If you encounter vehicle failure or enemy resistance on the road, immediately abandon the trucks and continue on horseback!”

“You have only one mission!” he stressed. “That is to return to Liège Fortress at all costs and deliver the military intelligence from Charleroi to General Ludendorff!”

“Yes, Sir!”

The three Dispatch Riders stood straight and answered loudly. They knew this mission was critical to the survival of the entire Instruction Assault Battalion.

(End of this Chapter)