Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 968: Chapter 18: Death and Rebirth_2

The guard collecting clothes looked up: “Huh? Going home.”

Colonel Jack: “What?”

“Going home! Enough redwood!”

The guard muttered something in Anglo-Saxon.

At that moment, the leader of the Ante prisoners spoke in broken Anglo-Saxon: “They say our troops have arrived, but I don’t know how progress happened so fast.”

Just then, a gunshot echoed from the castle tower.

The prisoners immediately hit the ground.

But they didn’t hear an alarm, a warning burst of machine gun fire, or the barking of hunting dogs.

Colonel Jack got up, looked around, and noticed that the Prosen soldier collecting clothes had disappeared.

Everyone exchanged glances and then ran together toward the tower.

Normally there would be several locks to enter the tower; prisoners couldn’t access it under usual circumstances. But now, they moved freely all the way to the Prison Warden’s office.

What they saw was the Prison Warden lying backward, holding a handgun.

A bullet entered through his mouth and exited through the back of his head, brain matter and blood smearing the window behind his chair.

The wind poured in through the hole left by the bullet.

The prisoners exchanged looks, and Colonel Jack stepped forward to inspect the documents on the Prison Warden’s desk.

One of the prisoners said, “He was actually a good man. He should’ve waited for the Ante Army with us.”

No one responded; the bloodstained office was eerily silent, carrying an unusual chill.

Finally, Colonel Jack finished reading the files and said, “It seems the Prosens have had an entire Army Group surrender and voluntarily relinquish their positions. That allowed the Anteans to advance rapidly. If nothing goes wrong, the Ante vanguard will arrive tomorrow.”

Someone asked, “Is it Rocossov’s troops?”

“No, apparently Rocossov Marshal’s forces are advancing toward Plowsonia.” Colonel Jack scanned the room and said, “Anyway, let’s eat first.”

Kodi Castle allowed prisoners to light their own fires to cook and even to brew alcohol, so several well-regarded chefs were among the prisoners.

Colonel Jack’s suggestion immediately won the chefs’ enthusiastic approval. Soon, a lavish dinner was prepared, and the prisoners laid long tables across the courtyard of the prisoner camp, piling them high with food.

They also brought out their homemade alcohol and danced and sang in the prison camp.

There seemed to be nearby Prosen anti-aircraft artillery units and other forces, but in the end, no one came to oversee this group of prisoners.

————

On the morning of December 6, Colonel Jack and the Ante prisoners’ leader brought a group of men to surround the guard post at the camp gate.

They stayed like that through the cold night.

When Colonel Jack got up, he felt frozen to the bone.

Just as he was stretching to warm his body, a distant rumbling sound reached his ears.

At first it was a low grumble like muffled thunder; moments later, the snow on the ground began shivering, and then snow from the trees gradually shook loose, soon turning into a flurry.

Soon, snow from the trees began falling in large chunks—someone standing beneath would be buried instantly.

Amid the rumbling came the noise of tank movements.

All the prisoners woke up. As they stood, those inside the camp rushed out to the gate, forming a throng.

With an ear-piercing screech of tracks grinding against the ground, a rounded tank appeared on the road leading to the camp, loaded with Ante soldiers.

All the soldiers were draped in cloaks. Even Colonel Jack could immediately tell these were elite Ante Guards.

At first, the tank commander atop the turret looked tense, readying the machine gun to fire, but then he realized the group outside the gate wasn’t Prosen troops.

At this moment, the Ante prisoners grew restless, jumping and shouting repeatedly: “We’re prisoners! Don’t shoot!”

The tank gradually approached, finally stopping in front of Colonel Jack.

The commander shouted: “Are you all prisoners?”

Colonel Jack had taught himself Antenese—since in the camp there wasn’t much to do besides learning languages and playing rugby.

The colonel answered, “We’re prisoners. As of yesterday, the guards disbanded and went home. There should be Prosen forces nearby, but why haven’t we heard gunfire?”

Commander: “They’ve fled too. Right now, only the Asgard Knights are resisting us. Stay here and wait. We don’t have time to manage you. The Church forces will come later for reception.”

By now, the prisoners had surrounded the tank, stuffing all sorts of supplies into the hands of Ante soldiers.

The Ante prisoners’ leader spoke out: “Commander Davarish, give us weapons. We want to keep fighting the Prosens. I know you’re preparing to encircle Plowsonia. Let us join this glorious battle!”

Commander: “We do have extra equipment, and we’re indeed short on junior officers. Can you accept positions as platoon commanders? I see many of you are senior officers.”

“We’ll ensure the mission’s completion—as long as we can enter Plowsonia, we’ll agree to anything!”

Prisoners from other nations exchanged looks; someone raised their hand: “We want to go to Plowsonia too!”

“We can’t miss the moment the war ends!”

The commander shrugged helplessly: “This isn’t a decision I can make. But our brigade commander will arrive soon; you can ask him for approval. We need to keep advancing, so please clear the way.”

With that, the tank started up again, and the newly freed prisoners reluctantly made way.

The commander saluted to everyone, then the tank filled with infantry drove past the prisoner camp gate, advancing toward the northwest.

More tanks passed the camp, with Ante soldiers sitting on their bodies, their chests adorned with medals. They didn’t seem worried at all about being targeted by enemy snipers.

By the tenth tank, the Anteans began singing.

It was a cheerful song, seemingly narrating the love story between a wandering young man and a young woman.

During the chorus, the young Ante soldiers sang loudly in unison:

“Tanya! Tanyusha! My Takiyanne!

“Do you still remember that fiery summer?

“I can’t forget that time,

“The time meant for love!”

————

December 9, Ante Army Forward Command Headquarters, 51 kilometers from Plowsonia city center.

Having stayed put in command for several days, Wang Zhong felt stifled and bored.

Early that morning, he paced back and forth in the headquarters, stopping occasionally to gaze at the flames in the fireplace.

Pavlov: “Can’t you sit still? Once the troops occupy Plowsonia, you’ll have all the time you want to wander the city.”

Wang Zhong: “Strolling then—if I bump into the captured Prosen Emperor, can I shoot him dead?”

Pavlov: “That’s definitely a no. He’d already be captured.”

Popov chimed in: “The Grand Patriarch’s Eminence has already issued orders: No extrajudicial punishment. All war criminals are to be sentenced at trial before being executed. We must uphold procedural justice.”

Wang Zhong shook his head.

At that moment, the phone rang. Pavlov picked up the receiver: “Forward Command. Understood.”

He held the receiver and covered the mouthpiece, saying to Wang Zhong: “The Guard First Heavy Breakthrough Artillery Division has occupied positions 14 kilometers from the city center.”

Wang Zhong: “So our cannons can reach the city center now?”

“Yes, they can hit the Prosen Emperor’s Royal Palace.”

Wang Zhong was overjoyed: “Good! Start the bombardment immediately; spare no shells!”

Popov: “But won’t that destroy too many cultural relics? After all, it’ll eventually be handed over to Plowsonia’s Davarish. Maybe use less heavy firepower?”

Wang Zhong: “No, if cultural relics are destroyed, blame those bastards who led Prosen down this path! We’re only trying to minimize our casualties—it’s not deliberate. Order the Guard First Heavy Breakthrough Artillery Division to open fire!”

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