CANNON FIRE ARC

Chapter 846: Chapter 3 Crossing the Swamp_3

“Because Rocossov’s troops haven’t launched an attack, we must treat every attack as Rocossov’s true main offensive direction,” does the causality make sense before and after this lengthy sentence?

Marshal Bog scolded ambiguously, using the local cursing lingo of his hometown.

Emperor: “What did you say?”

Marshal Bog: “I was praising your Highness’s wisdom!”

Emperor: “Hmm, I understand Rocossov best. Last year, I was the only one who predicted his September attack! Only me! I stopped him!”

After saying this, the Emperor hung up the phone and obviously slammed the receiver down with force.

Marshal Bog placed the receiver on the telephone’s cradle and, holding the receiver, surveyed the entire office.

Chief of Staff asked, “What’s the matter? Did His Majesty… make another demand?”

Marshal Bog didn’t answer immediately but strolled to the other side of the map room, running his hands along the edges of a window that had only recently been sealed up.

At that time, Marshal Bog’s Headquarters relied on natural light to sustain the daylight office needs.

Then came Rocossov’s “Urban” Assault Gun, which led to the most stringent directive from the Prosen High Command, demanding that all levels of command beef up their shelters, and all windows must be sealed, making the Army Group Command a “model unit.”

Now, Marshal Bog’s Headquarters had become an “underground tomb” where one couldn’t see their own hand without the lights on.

Marshal Bog was quite skeptical whether the masonry added to the shelter could really withstand the bombardment of the Urban mega cannon.

It felt like it wouldn’t hold.

Chief of Staff: “So, His Majesty thinks…?”

“He believes our location might be the main offensive direction,” Marshal Bog summarized succinctly.

Chief of Staff: “Judging from the alarmed cries and alarmist reports from the front-line troops, it indeed seems possible.”

“Hmph,” Marshal Bog snorted with a cold laugh, “then let’s wait and see.”

————

May 1st, Front Army of Veresk.

The Military Chaplain of the Spearhead Battalion, wearing “Swamp Shoes,” struggled to walk to the front of the lined-up troops.

“Davarish!” he announced loudly, “Today is the holiday of all workers! We celebrate with labor! Using the enemy’s artillery fire as celebratory fireworks!”

With that, he drew his pistol and turned, being the first to march towards the swamp.

“Grandpa Baba Yaga” followed behind him, reminding the warriors as he walked, “Mind your balance, and don’t expect any grip from the swamp. When you feel it getting stable, it means you’re about to sink down, and you’ll need to clean your Swamp Shoes!”

The biggest issue with using Swamp Shoes was their “slipperiness”; trying to walk forcefully on unstable ground made it easy to fall.

People like Grandpa Baba Yaga, who had lived in marshlands for many years, learned how to “slide walk,” accurately described as gliding like a water strider.

The vanguard set off like this, and other than the front line of combatants, the rest of the advance team was transporting wooden sticks, throwing them into the swamp in lines to create an attack pathway.

The Engineer officer in charge of laying the path called out, “Arrange them closer! That way, if a stick wants to roll around, it will be held in place by those on each side.”

The officer glanced down at the notes in his hand—these were the “key points summary” he had taken down while listening to old man Baba Yaga’s explanations.

Officer: “Also, we should alternate between thin and thick sticks in the arrangement, so it looks saw-toothed from the cross-section, which ensures that heavy combat equipment can safely cross the swamp!”

Grandpa Baba Yaga nodded repeatedly, thinking the officer had learned well, yet he was a bit by-the-book.

However, to be honest, Grandpa Baba Yaga had never tried to drive tanks through the marsh. It was said that the incoming “Pot lid” was a “medium tank,” meaning there were even heavier tanks that would be impossible to get through the swamp.

Grandpa Baba Yaga was still filled with concern. Although the Prosen Soldiers across the way might be something like the inferior 25th wave units, the absence of heavy tanks always meant worrying about encountering tough bones that couldn’t be cracked.

And what about the artillery? Surely heavy artillery from the division and the Army Group wouldn’t be able to cross the swamp any time soon—could this attack go smoothly?

Yet at this moment, some Military Chaplain shouted, “Don’t be gloomy, sing up, cheer up! Let’s have ‘Black-Skinned Girl.’”

Immediately, someone started playing the Bagpipe, and others sang aloud:

“As the morning just began to dawn, I looked over at my neighbor’s yard~”

“Just saw a dark-skinned girl, picking grapes batch by batch~”

Baba Yaga Grandpa had never heard this song before, so he asked the young warrior beside him, “What song is this?”

“Don’t you know? It’s the latest tune, it’s about a girl falling in love with a young guerrilla fighter.” The warrior responded with a smile.

More people joined in the chorus: “I can’t help but blush, and my heart flutters, I want to speak and say to her: Come to the river, let’s welcome the dawn together!”

Baba Yaga Grandpa frowned: “These words! They haven’t talked much, and he’s already inviting the girl to welcome the dawn together, aren’t they both naked?

The young companion beside him: “In wartime, we might be sacrificed tomorrow, so of course we must seize the time!

“The song continued: “Ah hey, ah hey hey~ the green maple trees rustling~

“In front of you, I don’t know where to put my hands and feet~

“Green maple trees, oh~ lush maple trees~ I want to sing for you~”

Baba Yaga Grandpa: “Last year’s popular song was still ‘I Still Have One Last Grenade’!”

“That’s still popular, Grandpa!”

At this moment, the song entered an instrumental interlude, Bagpipe played an unusually cheerful melody, and the troops moving through the swamp also quickened their pace with the music.

Even with such noise, the Prosens showed no reaction.

The song entered its second verse:

“Dark-skinned girl, Modavian girl, she kindly says to the young man:

“We’re gathering our forces, defending our motherland from the jackals! Early this morning, the Guerrilla fighters will set out from their hometown~

“If you want to join, there are barracks deep in the forest~ Ah hey hey, the green maple trees rustling, we part ways beside a tall maple tree~

“Green maple trees, lush maple trees, I want to sing for you~”

Baba Yaga Grandpa laughed: “That’s more like it! Forget all that mushy love stuff! Get right to fighting the jackals!”

“Grandpa, you don’t get it!”

“How do I not get it! When I was as young as you guys, I fought against Peterlyula’s bandits! I know some of you are so frightened you come back desperate to find a girl and leave a child behind! Hmph!”

While talking, several Anteans in old military uniforms emerged.

They were stunned to see the swamp full of Ante Soldiers.

“Don’t move, who are you?” the leading Priest shouted.

Baba Yaga Grandpa: “Don’t be alarmed, they’re guerrilla guides for us, didn’t you just sing about it? There are barracks deep in the forest!”

The Guerrilla fighters, seeing the grandpa, immediately came over to shake his hand: “Grandpa, you mentioned an attack, we thought at most a platoon was coming! With such a large-scale force, could it be a full-scale offensive?”

Baba Yaga Grandpa smiled: “Yes, I was afraid you’d get captured, so I didn’t tell you the truth, making you think it was just a small infiltration force. Lead the way quickly, we’ll pave the road straight to the Prosens’ camp, and let the tanks roll right in!”

At this time, an officer came over with a radio, holding the hand of a guerrilla fighter: “Comrade, you’ve worked hard these past years! Please tell us about the enemy’s strength and number, I’ll report back immediately!”

Guerrilla: “The enemy’s strength is very weak and their training is poor, some Prosen Soldiers even exchange bullets for everyday items with us, then report to their superiors that they lost them during skirmishes with guerrillas.

“Such troops certainly won’t stand up to a fight! We’ve been pulling off big jobs regularly!”

Saying that, the Guerrilla fighter proudly showed off the Prosen submachine gun on his chest: “Look! Our armament is even better than the Prosens, we can’t be beaten in close encounters in the forest, after all, we all have submachine guns.”

Another Guerrilla joked: “Without food or clothes, the enemy will bring it right to us, without guns or cannons, the enemy will build them for us!

“We grew up here, every inch of land is our own, whoever tries to take it, we’ll fight them to the end! If you hadn’t come to attack, maybe in a few years, we’d have liberated ourselves!”

Baba Yaga Grandpa: “Alright, I know you’ve been doing increasingly well recently, hurry up and lead the way, once we break through the enemy, you can go back to being civilians and live in peace!”

“How can this be okay!” Several Guerrilla fighters became serious, “We still have to fight our way back into the Empire of Prosen, we agreed on seeing Prosennia!”

Baba Yaga Grandpa laughed heartily: “Good! See you in Prosennia! Stop talking and lead the way! Let’s show the Prosens a thing or two!”

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