Arc of Fire

Chapter 667: Chapter 5 Valkyrie Club

March 20, 916, Germania, 11:00 PM (Hereafter, military time and civilian time will be distinguished, with 2300 being military time).

Marshal Geron’s vehicle had been blocked halfway.

"What’s going on?” he asked.

The deputy officer immediately opened the door of the passenger seat and got out of the car, “I’ll go up ahead and check.”

The Marshal waved his hand.

The deputy officer quickly ran up the road.

Just then, the car door at the Marshal’s rear seat suddenly opened, and an officer dressed in a motorized troop leather jacket climbed in.

Because motorized troops’ leather jackets were particularly handsome, many officers would prepare them at their own expense, especially in Germania where colonels were as common as carp crossing a river, and generals were everywhere—officers would spend money to procure custom, stylish military uniforms.

Marshal Geron glanced at the person who got into the car and said, “I shouldn’t know you, young man, have you gotten into the wrong car?”

"No mistake, I am Colonel Belger from the High Command’s Reserve Military Personnel Administration Bureau, I came specifically to see you.”

Marshal Geron raised his eyebrows, “What does the Reserve Management Bureau want with me? The total mobilization has started, shouldn’t you be busiest now?”

"Yes, which is precisely why we came to you, for the future of Prosen.”

The Marshal fell silent for a second, then spoke to the driver in the front, “Hank, go to the boutique tobacco shop on Marine Street and buy me a box of cigarettes.”

"Yes.” The driver immediately opened the door and ran off.

Now only the Marshal and Colonel Belger remained in the car.

Marshal Geron: “He will be at least five minutes in getting back, and my deputy officer should join him, so you have five minutes.”

Colonel Belger: “Marshal, I presume you already know about the latest plan. How many troops did His Majesty promise you?”

Marshal Geron hesitated for a moment but then told the truth, “He said he would give me three times the troops at General Rocossov’s disposal.”

"General Rocossov has at least one million one hundred thousand men. Even going by this minimum, most conservative estimate, they would have to cram three million three hundred thousand men for you. Even if they really mobilized so many, could they fit them on the front line? General Rocossov is still a general fond of heavy artillery—wouldn’t such high troop density just be fodder for heavy artillery?”

Marshal Geron remained silent, eyes fixed forward.

Colonel Belger sighed, “We have a small gathering at the Valkyrie Club, if you’re interested

Marshal Geron: “Indeed, it’s impossible to deploy 3.3 million troops on the front line, even if these troops were arranged in echelons, there’s not enough supply to sustain them. We all know that even Kazarlia, despite its enhanced transportation capabilities, can at most support two million troops.

"General Rocossov’s million-strong army isn’t deployed all around Bolsk only, his troops start from Yarvik going up to Bolsk, and the upcoming combat operation is estimated to involve around one million troops.”

Colonel Belger looked at Marshal Geron, “So what do you make of this promise to give you three times the troops?”

Marshal Geron again fell into silence.

Colonel Belger continued, “This just shows that someone—I mean, His Majesty has lost the most basic judgment capabilities. He has been deranged by last year’s defeats!”

"Don’t say any more,” Marshal Geron interrupted Colonel Belger, “My deputy officer and driver will be back soon. Step out, I’ll pretend I never heard your opinion.”

Colonel Belger: “Have you considered the consequences of a failed attack? Have you thought about the fate of Prosen in a few years?”

As he finished speaking, the deputy officer and driver had already approached, but realising something, the deputy officer grabbed the driver, and the two just stood outside the Marshal’s soaring-brand luxury car.

Marshal Geron: “A soldier’s duty is to obey orders. Since His Majesty has ordered me to attack Rocossov, I will attack. As for why Celtic Marshal made such an outrageous promise before His Majesty, I believe he has his difficulties too.”

Colonel Belger: “I am a colonel of the Reserve Management Bureau, I know the situation best. Fifty divisions can be organized, but many of them have not participated in reserve training since retiring! They’ve left the army for years, how can they regain combat skills with just three months of training? Above all, they have aged! They have become corpulent in their daily lives!

"Three months of training, and we would do well just to trim the fat off their stomachs!”

Marshal Geron: “I know, I’ve been in the military for many years; you don’t need to tell me these things.”

Colonel Belger: “And the tanks, look up at the sky now. Do you think the night is lit by lights? No, it’s the enemy’s bombings igniting great fires, the fires from daytime bombings haven’t even extinguished yet, and the United Kingdom’s nighttime bombings are about to begin!”

As the sound faded, a piercing air raid siren went off, accompanied by the sound of anti-aircraft guns firing.

Looking out the car window, one could see the rays of searchlights lighting up the already red night sky.

Colonel Belger: “We do have a large number of fighter planes, but the enemy sends up hundreds of bombers at a time, forming that new formation called a ‘box formation,’ our fighter planes simply can’t break through! General!”

Marshal Geron: “You should get off now, I remember your gathering address, Valkyrie Club. It’s time to go.”

Colonel Belger opened the car door, stepped out, and took one last look at the Marshal before he firmly shut the door.

The Deputy Officer, seeing this, then got into the car with the driver and reported, “The fire-fighting teams have blocked the road ahead, we need to find another route.”

The driver then turned around and said, “Marshal, your cigarettes.”

The Marshal took the cigarettes, pocketed them directly, with no intention of smoking.

At that moment, the sound of explosions came from afar.

Deputy Officer, “It sounds like they are bombing the industrial area, the tank production is going to decrease again.”

Marshal, “This is actually Plowsonia, two years ago if you had told me this, I definitely wouldn’t have believed it. Why would the Empire of Fusang provoke the Federation?”

Deputy Officer, “Why did we provoke Ante?”

"Don’t say things that would get the Imperial Ministry to take you away. Think about your wife and children,” the Marshal said lightly.

"You’re right to remind me,” the Deputy Officer took a deep breath, still looking worriedly at the driver.

The driver pretended as if he hadn’t heard anything.

Marshal, “Is there a way to change our route?”

"Yes, I found an alternative road on the side that is open. There are Constitutional Guards, but with your ID, we should be able to pass through.”

"Then let’s take that road,” Marshal Geron hesitated, “Let’s go straight home, not to the officers’ club!”

"Aren’t you supposed to play bridge tonight?”

Marshal Geron, “Looking at the burning city outside, the crying civilians, do you expect me to play bridge and dance? No, I can’t do it.”

Deputy Officer, “Should you be careful about saying such things in case the Imperial Ministry hears?”

"And then retire like Marshal Bryan? I think that’s quite fine,” sighed Marshal Geron, “I can leave this responsibility to General Sheeplin who is not yet fifty, he at least can lead the Southern Army Group to escape.”

Deputy Officer, “General Sheeplin now has a nickname as the ‘fleeing general’, though last summer he was still acclaimed as a decimator of enemies.”

Marshal Geron laughed, but it was an uncomfortable laugh.

Deputy Officer, “By the way, was that Colonel Belger from the Reserve Management Bureau just now? Did he have anything important?”

Marshal Geron selected some matters that were harmless to share with the Deputy Officer and driver, “He told me about the 50 divisions that Celtic Marshal promised. He said it’s not possible to have 50 elite divisions made up of veterans, most of them differ from raw recruits only in age.”

Deputy Officer, “I see, actually, we never really expected to receive elite forces. Rather, it would be good enough just to replenish our heavily damaged divisions. But, have you seen the ten-day report that just came from the front line?”

Each division of the Empire of Prosen has to report on its military equipment readiness every day, and higher command units report to even higher departments every ten days.

Marshal Geron, “I saw it. If Rocossov launches an attack now, we probably can’t stop him, we can only rely on the mud to delay his advance.”

The most recent ten-day report indicated that each Armored Division of the Southern Army Group had only about twenty operational Model 4 long-barreled tanks. Others were either waiting for repairs at front-line workshops or had been sent back to the factory for lengthy repairs.

Such long repairs at the factory typically took several months.

As for new tank reinforcements, the answer was none. The High Command had promised the first batch of reinforcement tanks would arrive at the front line on the 22nd.

The Empire of Prosen had indeed mobilized completely, but the efforts mobilized were still taking time to impact the front lines.

Like the Federation, which had switched to full wartime mobilization at the end of 914, but throughout 915, they were still being severely beaten by the Empire of Fusang, left with just one aircraft carrier desperately holding on. Their Air Force only started massive bombings of the Empire of Prosen recently.

The full mobilization of the Empire of Prosen would only start showing effects by the second half of 916.

As Marshal Geron and the Deputy Officer were conversing, the driver drove the car into an alley and indeed, they encountered a line of Constitutional Guards.

A Constitutional Guard, bending over and shining a flashlight into the car, stepped back immediately upon seeing the Marshal’s rank, and gestured, “Pass!”

The temporary roadblock was moved aside, and the guards at the checkpoint saluted the Marshal. Only the military dogs, unaware of the decorum, kept barking incessantly.

After passing the checkpoint, the Velocity-brand car drove through the empty alleyway.

Deputy Officer suddenly mentioned, “The Equipment Bureau seems to have developed a new medium tank. They’re likely going to invite His Majesty and the senior generals in the Capital to view the first trial in a few days.”

Marshal Geron, “I hope what they’ve come up with this time is a bit lighter. The seventy-ton heavy tank and nearly seventy-ton assault gun I saw the other day really made me worry whether they could fight on the plains of Kazarlia.

"Too heavy.”

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