Chapter 400: This Gun is Good, We Must Build It |
When the penetrated “Hound Mark 4 Modified” fell, a momentary silence seemed to descend upon the street.
Whether it was the coup troops who had originally been trying to make a last-ditch effort or the pilot of the sole surviving “Hound Mark 4 Modified,” at this moment, they all stared blankly at the steel wreckage on the ground, as if struck by a petrification spell.
To the vast majority of people in this era, an Armored Knight was the absolute hegemon of the land battlefield, an invincible steel deity.
Especially to infantry lacking heavy weapons, an Armored Knight often meant a one-sided slaughter.
But now, this deity right before their eyes was blown away by that strange artillery hidden in the ruins in merely two volleys.
Even the two RAK 15 anti-armor gun crews who claimed “First Blood” were themselves somewhat dazed.
“My God… this thing packs such a punch?”
A gunner looked at the Armored Knight in the distance that was almost shot completely through, swallowed hard, and subconsciously patted the low, small gun beside him.
At this moment, he was only surprised and hadn’t realized that he and his crew members had just made history.
The gun captain was the first to react, slapping the loader’s helmet to snap him out of his shock.
Inside the surviving “Hound Mark 4 Modified” in the distance, the pilot felt completely numb.
As an Armored Knight, for the first time, he felt that emotion called “fear” in front of infantry.
He knew very well the characteristics of his machine. In pursuit of extreme high mobility and explosive handling, the “Hound” series sacrificed a massive amount of armor protection, and the strength of the spell shield was also significantly reduced.
If even his companion’s machine couldn’t withstand it despite being unlucky enough to get hit, his own machine’s fate would absolutely be no better if it took a shot.
And he couldn’t take out the Saxon Armored Knight before him in a short time either.
If it were in the past, a “Hound” series Armored Knight could still rely on its extreme flexibility to maneuver around other Armored Knights and look for an opportunity to take them out.
But now, after both sides were equipped with shaped-charge anti-armor rounds—a weapon capable of a one-hit kill in most engagements—the “Hound’s” margin for error was far too low.
Of course, the main reason was still that this relatively narrow street was more suitable for an Armored Knight like the “Siegfried Mark 1” to hold up its shield for defensive counterattacks.
So the next moment, the pilot of this “Ranger” squadron directly controlled his machine to leap violently to one side.
The excellent mobility of the “Hound Mark 4 Modified” was exerted to its utmost at this moment.
Like a startled rabbit, it performed frantic zig-zag maneuvers on the street, its massive mechanical feet stomping on the road surface, kicking up large amounts of gravel.
“Damn it! This guy runs too fast!”
In the ruins in the distance, the two gun captains were sweating profusely with anxiety.
Although the RAK 15 had high muzzle velocity and great power, it was ultimately an artillery piece, not a rifle.
Adjusting the gun carriage’s direction relied entirely on manually turning the handwheels. Even if the gunner spun the handwheels until sparks flew, the muzzle’s movement speed couldn’t keep up with that “Hound” fleeing for its life using a “lightning run.”
“Lead! Shoot ahead of it! Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Boom! Boom!
Two more short cannon roars.
Two 50mm armor-piercing shells shrieked out, drawing two straight lines of death across the main street.
Unfortunately, these two gun crews had only been newly equipped for a short time after all, and their predictive shooting against such high-speed moving targets still lacked some finesse.
If the third gun crew left behind at Vienna Westbahnhof had also been brought here, they might have been able to try their luck…
One shell brushed past the “Hound’s” left shoulder, only taking off an inconsequential armor plate; the other hit the wall next to it, kicking up a cloud of debris.
In that blink of an eye, that “Hound Mark 4 Modified” had already dashed into a narrow side alley, completely disappearing from the gun crews’ field of vision under the cover of buildings.
“Ah! Let it get away!” A gunner hammered his thigh in frustration.
The other crew members, including the gun captain, also wore looks of regret.
Even they themselves didn’t realize that after destroying an Armored Knight, the panic that had long been built up in their hearts had disappeared significantly…
At the same time, Ludwig, located in the middle of the street, also breathed a sigh of relief.
Although it was somewhat a pity to let an enemy escape, he had no intention of pursuing.
“Do not pursue a desperate foe”—this phrase he had never heard before was repeatedly emphasized by Morin.
Especially in this complex urban combat environment, a lone Armored Knight without infantry cover rashly charging into unfamiliar alleys was actually a very dangerous action.
Especially with the rapid development of various explosives after the outbreak of the war.
According to Morin, Armored Knights were not completely invincible existences in urban combat.
If there were truly people unafraid of death charging up from the Armored Knight’s blind spots holding explosive packs, it would absolutely be enough for these knightly lords to drink a pot (suffer greatly).
To be honest, Ludwig sometimes couldn’t figure out why Morin had so many bizarre tactical ideas in his head.
The key was that these ideas Morin mentioned weren’t completely fanciful; many tactical concepts and scenarios had already begun to appear along with the progress of the war.
“Everyone, attention! Ignore the one that ran away! Clear out the remaining infantry first!”
Ludwig’s voice boomed over the street through the external loudspeakers.
Those Czech coup troops who had lost their Armored Knight support had long lost the vigor to counterattack from before.
Looking at that “Siegfried Mark 1” glaring like a tiger watching its prey, and then looking at the two terrifying artillery pieces in the distance that had even disabled an Armored Knight, how could they still fight this battle?
“We surrender! We surrender!”
“We were forced!”
As the first person threw down his weapon, the rout became unstoppable like an avalanche.
The remaining hundred or so coup soldiers who hadn’t had time to escape scrambled to raise their hands, terrified that if they were too slow, they would be riddled with bullets by that terrifying machine gun.
In just a few short minutes, the gunfire inside and outside the Schöneberg barracks completely died down.
The pilots of the two Armored Knights inside the barracks also contacted Ludwig via the portable magitech communication equipment installed in their cockpits.
The enemies inside the barracks had also surrendered under the bombardment of the 170mm heavy mortar.
Only at this moment did Ludwig truly breathe a sigh of relief.
He controlled the “Siegfried Mark 1” back to an open space at the barracks gate, then slowly took a half-kneeling position, the massive metal knee smashing into the ground with a muffled thud.
A few armed magitech technicians wearing overalls and carrying rifles quickly rushed up carrying toolboxes under the cover of knight squires.
“Lord Ludwig, the left hydraulic line is slightly damaged, but it doesn’t affect mobility.”
“This shield needs to be taken back to the train and repaired with specialized equipment, or just swapped for a new one…”
The technicians deftly inspected the machine, simultaneously swapping ammo boxes for the two scalding MG08 heavy machine guns and replenishing their cooling water.
Ludwig sat in the open cockpit, greedily breathing the fresh air outside, but his gaze remained fixed on the wreckage of the destroyed “Hound” in the distance, and the two RAK 15 anti-armor guns currently being re-camouflaged.
The impact of that scene just now was truly too great for him.
As a formerly very traditional Teutonic Knight, although Ludwig’s originally rigid thinking had changed under Morin’s influence…
Today, those two plain-looking small guns still told him in an extremely brutal manner that he hadn’t changed enough.
Faced with that terrifying muzzle velocity and penetration depth, any operational skills or evasive maneuvers appeared so pale and powerless.
“This gun is good, we must build it!”
Ludwig muttered to himself, a peculiar light flickering in his eyes.
“If we could mount this gun on the Armored Knight’s arm…”
He suddenly felt the short-barreled assault cannon in his hands was like an antique… That kind of long-barreled, high-muzzle-velocity artillery was the future destination for Armored Knights.
Even the shaped-charge anti-armor shell, which he previously viewed as a divine artifact, seemed to pale somewhat in the face of the RAK 15’s simple and direct aesthetic of violence.
However, Ludwig’s stray thoughts didn’t last too long. He quickly activated his communication equipment and connected with Morin’s main unit.
“‘Hercules’ calling ‘Zeus’, please respond if you receive!”
“‘Zeus’ receives, go ahead.”
Hearing Morin’s voice, Ludwig gathered his thoughts and then said: “The Schöneberg barracks is completely secured. The enemy counterattack has been repelled.”
“Additionally… we encountered two new-type Armored Knights suspected to be Britannian. One was destroyed by anti-armor artillery, the other escaped.”
Ludwig originally thought Morin would be very surprised upon hearing about the combat situation on his end.
But to his surprise, Morin seemed to already know the battle situation here, appearing very calm.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the communication, and then Morin’s voice came through, mixed with dense gunfire and the roar of something heavy collapsing in the background.
“Beautifully done! That wreckage has great research value, do a good job of recovery, find a way to drag it back to the train station!”
“Next, you guys rest and reorganize in place. Have the combat engineers rearm the rescued Imperial Guards… Distribute the captured weapons to them. Tell them if they want to wash away their disgrace, they have to pick up the guns themselves.”
“Yes, ‘Hercules’ receives.”
“By the way, ‘Hercules’…” Morin’s voice suddenly carried a hint of a smile, “Is that anti-armor gun easy to use?”
“It is! It’s too easy to use!” Ludwig blurted out. “I think we should equip more of this stuff in the future, preferably equipping our Armored Knights with it too!”
“Hahaha, that day will come!”
On the other end of the Vienna urban area.
Morin set down the communication terminal in his hand, his gaze returning to the magnificent Baroque building ahead—the Vienna Central Telegraph Office.
This building, which should have been Vienna’s information hub, had now been turned into a sturdy fortress by the rebels.
The main doors were blocked solidly with sandbags and furniture, and countless dark muzzles protruded from the windows on the second and third floors.
Although he appeared breezy over the comms just now, Morin’s heart was not as calm as it seemed on the surface.
Because in the [Intelligence] tab, a new piece of information had just updated.
[The Holy Britannia Empire’s General Directorate of Military Intelligence participated in planning the Vienna coup operation, and directly provided personnel, equipment, and intelligence support.]
It really is that bunch of shit-stirrers.
While Morin felt surprised, he also felt entirely unsurprised…
This not only fit the Britannians’ style, but for the Britannians to meddle in the internal affairs of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at this point in time, their purpose was truly too obvious.
They wanted to completely plunge the situation in the Balkan Peninsula into chaos, not wanting to see the Saxon Empire have no worries in the rear on the Eastern Front.
While thinking, Morin turned around and looked at the group of “old men” behind him who were incredibly curious about the communication device in his hand, and who also couldn’t hold back their desire to fight.
Field Marshal Conrad gripped a rifle captured from a prisoner, his originally somewhat cloudy eyes now frighteningly bright, as if returning to forty years ago when he was still a young man.
“Colonel Morin! Has the barracks been taken?” Conrad asked eagerly, and the staff officers behind him all craned their necks.
“Yes, Field Marshal… The Schöneberg barracks has been recovered, and the Imperial Guard is regrouping.”
“Good! Excellent!”
Conrad waved his pistol excitedly, pointing at the Telegraph Office building ahead: “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s begin the attack immediately! I’ll lead the General Staff officers to charge on the front line! We must drive these traitors out!”
Looking at this fired-up old Field Marshal, Morin only felt a massive headache.
Why were these Austro-Hungarian officers acting like they’d been injected with chicken blood?
If he really let the Chief of Staff lead the charge, he’d have to assign people specifically to protect him, which would obviously drastically reduce operational efficiency.
After all, he couldn’t actually let the allied Field Marshal charge at the very front…
“Your Excellency Field Marshal, your bravery is admirable.”
Morin calmly stepped in front of Conrad, saying sincerely: “But let us professionals handle this kind of assault. After all… we have better ‘persuaders’…”
While Morin was speaking, the engine roar of radiant crystal trucks also came from behind them.
Three 77mm field guns were towed into the street by trucks.
These artillery pieces, originally meant to be deployed several kilometers away for indirect fire support, were now brought directly to a direct-fire range of less than four hundred meters from the Telegraph Office’s main doors.
The dark muzzles gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the sunlight, pointing straight at the building’s entrance.
“This… this is going to be direct fire?” Conrad was stunned.
Morin nodded and spoke: “Field Marshal, since they closed the doors, we can only use physical methods to help them open them.”
Inside the Vienna Central Telegraph Office building, a captain responsible for guarding the place lay by a second-floor window, observing the street outside through the gap in the heavy curtains.
His hands were trembling, not only from nervousness but from an inexplicable fear.
According to the original plan, they only needed to hold their ground here for a few hours. Once Mr. Masaryk announced the establishment of the new government, the dust would settle.
The garrison within the city of Vienna had already been paralyzed; no one could possibly organize a counterattack.
But now, the situation outside was completely wrong.
First came the fierce explosions from the west, then the news of the Army General Staff falling.
Now, a well-equipped army in gray uniforms had actually set up cannons right under their noses!
“Are those field guns?” The adjutant beside him sounded distorted. “How do they have cannons? Didn’t they say they only had light weapons?”
The captain swallowed hard, his throat as dry as if he had swallowed a handful of sand.
“Don’t panic! As long as we hold the doors and windows, they can’t rush in!”
He tried to encourage his subordinates, and also tried to convince himself.
But the instruction unit obviously wouldn’t give them more time to think. After setting up the three 77mm field guns, they quickly fired a ranging volley.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three loud bangs overlapped almost entirely, shaking the whole street.
Compared to long-distance artillery bombardment, direct-aim fire in this urban combat environment was obviously much easier to calibrate.
So the first round of direct fire basically landed in the massive main door area.
The soldiers guarding behind the door barricades only felt their vision go black. A massive blast wave mixed with broken glass and stone debris smashed down on their heads.
The originally sturdy fortifications were as laughable as paper in the face of direct fire from 77mm high-explosive shells.
“Ah——!”
Screams echoed in the hall.
Of the dozen or so coup soldiers guarding the door, some had their internal organs shattered by the close-range shockwave, while others were turned into pincushions by flying wooden splinters. Blood instantly dyed the floor red.
But this was just the beginning.
On the street, the Saxon artillerymen deftly pulled open the breeches. The scalding spent casings clattered to the ground, and new shells were rapidly shoved into the chambers.
“High-explosive shell loaded!”
“Fire!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The second volley followed immediately.
This time, one shell even flew directly over the blasted barricade, diving deep inside the first-floor hall and detonating.
The violent explosion echoed in the enclosed space, its power amplified manifold. The chandelier in the hall crashed down, and the plaster on the walls peeled off like snow.
Followed by the third round, the fourth round…
The coup forces, originally planning to rely on the terrain for a desperate defense, were now blasted dizzy, completely losing the ability to think.
How is this fighting a war? This is simply a one-sided demolition job!
“Enough! Enough!” The captain on the second floor clutched his bleeding ears, shouting in a breakdown. “We surrender! Stop shooting!”
But his voice was drowned out by the rumbling cannon fire and couldn’t travel out at all.
Simultaneously, the mixed group of combat engineers and regimental guard platoon that had long been poised for action began rapidly advancing under artillery cover.
In groups of three or five, covering each other, they used craters and ruins as stepping stones to approach the building.
The fluid tactical movements directly stunned Conrad and the others. They never thought infantry could attack like this.
Soon, the few soldiers charging at the front reached both sides of the blown-open main door.
They expertly unhooked M1915 stick grenades from their waists, pulled the fuse, paused for a second, and then tossed them into the pitch-black hall.
Boom! Boom!
Muffled explosions came from inside the building, mixed with a few short screams.
Immediately after, the combat engineers, holding their MP14 submachine guns, were the first to file in.
“Da-da-da! Da-da-da!”
Dense submachine gun fire rang out inside the building, continuous like popping beans.
In the Old Town of Vienna, inside that secret private club.
“Raven” was sitting on that expensive leather sofa, the brandy in his hand no longer swirling.
The atmosphere in the room had long since turned from “sunny to cloudy.” The two intelligence officers left behind stood with their heads bowed, not daring to breathe loudly.
In just the past few minutes, it could be said that “tidings of victory” poured in.
The Army General Staff fell, Conrad was rescued.
The Schöneberg barracks was lost, the Imperial Guard was rearmed.
What was most unacceptable to “Raven” was that the “Hound Mark 4 Modified” Armored Knights he treated as secret weapons had actually had one blown up on the street, while the other fled back like a stray dog!
“Can someone tell me…”
“Raven’s” voice was low and hoarse, suppressing the anger about to erupt.
“Where exactly did this Saxon unit pop out from?!”
“Did it grow out of the ground by itself?!”
He violently smashed the crystal glass in his hand onto the floor, amber liquid splashing everywhere.
The originally perfect plan, like an exquisite puzzle, was suddenly violently dismantled to pieces by someone.
He calculated the Austro-Hungarian army’s sluggish reaction, calculated the royal family’s weakness, and even calculated the infighting among various factions—but why did the development of events differ entirely from the predictions?
Why would a Saxon unit with various heavy equipment and even Armored Knights happen to appear in Vienna at this exact time?
Several thoughts flashed through “Raven’s” mind instantly.
He even suspected whether the Czechs or those Hungarian nobles in Budapest had leaked the news, or intentionally set him up.
However, he also knew clearly that now was not the time to dwell on this. The key was what to do next?
To be honest, having operated in the Austro-Hungarian Empire for so long, “Raven” didn’t want to give up so easily, but he couldn’t think of a good solution in the short term either.
After all, as intelligence personnel, they mostly incited the coup and provided covert support.
The main force of the coup, no matter what, had to rely on those Czechs.
Just as “Raven” fell into a dilemma, another intelligence officer arrived and gave him the latest news—the flag of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was raised again over the Central Telegraph Office.
“What?! How could it be so fast…”
“Raven” was stunned.
But no one could answer this question.
Besides “Raven,” the other intelligence personnel standing by in the club were also somewhat unable to figure it out at this moment.
They could only look at “Raven,” waiting for him to make a decision.
A moment later, “Raven” stood up and walked outside, simultaneously instructing: “Destroy all documents, execute the evacuation plan immediately. Also find a way to notify the mage responsible for controlling the Royal Magic Guards at Schönbrunn Palace that the operation failed, retreat immediately…”
“Then shouldn’t we let the Highland Mage directly…”
One of “Raven’s” deputies made a throat-slitting gesture towards “Franz I.”
“And then blame it on those Czechs?”
“Brilliant…”
(End of Chapter)
