Happy New Year in advance, everyone. I wish you all the best for the year ahead. Two chapters today to finish the mini arc.
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The tanks tore through defense line after defense line as they entered the city.
"Reicher!" Paul shouted into the radio.
"Yes, sir," a voice answered, barely audible beneath the thunder of gunfire.
"Your battalion. Turn around," Paul said coldly. "Cut off the first defensive line from the rest of the city."
"Understood," Reicher replied.
"And remember," Paul continued, his voice sharp, "never leave the urban areas. Engage them from a distance and block the main streets. We will face them divided. I expect results."
"Of course, sir," Reicher answered.
Soon, dozens of tanks split from the main formation, turning onto the broad streets leading deeper into the city. They spread out methodically, weaving a tightening net through Gniezno.
The remaining force now faced the second defensive line.
"They are not even finished," Paul observed through the narrow viewing slit, watching the chaos unfold ahead.
The tanks halted, shielding the disembarking infantry from the intense gunfire pouring from the second defensive line. Sandbags, abandoned cars, and a handful of armored vehicles formed makeshift barricades between the houses.
"Fire!" Paul ordered.
The tanks aligned into a straight line, filling the wide main street of Gniezno.
In the same instant, they unleashed their fire. Shells tore through the air, followed by a wave of deafening explosions.
"Take cover!" soldiers screamed, fleeing into buildings and diving behind sandbags.
It was useless.
The explosions swallowed barricades and buildings alike.
A stray shell struck a building in the distance. Debris cascaded downward, almost burying an unlucky man beneath it.
"Oh shit!" Leon shouted, limping away from the wall, raising his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself.
Bricks and splintered wooden beams crashed onto the ground where he had stood moments earlier.
Leon stumbled forward, almost hopping as gunfire erupted all around him and soldiers sprinted past in blind panic.
"Hey!" a soldier shouted, slamming into Leon and nearly knocking him to the ground. The man barely slowed, already tilting his head back toward the sky.
"Idio—" Leon began.
The word died in his throat.
A murderous explosion tore through a cluster of soldiers nearby. Smoke and dust surged outward, nearly engulfing Leon as he was thrown to the ground.
"Fuck!" he screamed, crawling away, ducking instinctively with every blast that followed.
Then he looked up.
"Planes…" he whispered.
His eyes widened.
"Our air force has arrived!" he shouted. "Our air force has arrived!"
Soldiers turned. A rare, fragile smile appeared on a few faces. Machine gunners hesitated, lowering their weapons as they stared skyward.
And indeed, dozens of aircraft were descending, their course unmistakable. Paul's tank division was their target.
"Now!" Paul shouted into the radio.
At his command, every German weapon fell silent. Tanks ceased fire. Infantry froze, then rushed to the sides. Artillery crews, their guns mounted on trucks, swerved off the road and pulled aside.
The entire formation surged toward the buildings, pressing as close as possible to civilian homes. Steel and flesh crowded the streets, hugging walls and doorways.
Paul's tank scraped along a brick facade before grinding to a halt. Inside, only the ragged breathing of the crew could be heard.
For a brief moment, the battlefield went silent.
High above, a pilot inside his PZL.37 Łoś widened his eyes in horror as realization struck. His jaw clenched. Sweat poured down his face, soaking into his flight suit as the city rushed up beneath him.
His finger trembled over the release.
The moment was perfect.
Then he yanked the controls back.
"Fuck!" he shouted, pulling up hard. His curse crackled over the radio as the other pilots followed suit, one after another. No bombs were dropped.
"Hah… hahaha!" a Wehrmacht soldier laughed, crouched behind a tank with the rest of his squad.
The laughter spread. Nervous at first, then uncontrollable. Relief, raw and overwhelming.
Inside his tank, Paul smiled.
A shield not made of steel.Not made of any material at all.
A shield of moral values.
And it was terrifyingly effective, Paul thought, his tank moving again.
The Wehrmacht pushed the Polish forces further and further.
"Retreat!" a chorus of officers shouted as chaos erupted across the marketplace of Gniezno. Soldiers clutched their rifles and ran. They ran faster than ever before, fearing for their lives. Some dropped grenades, letting them roll down the road without a second thought. Behind them loomed pure terror.
A machine gun team lagged far behind. The heavy weapon suddenly slipped from its mount, clattering onto the ground. One soldier turned back to retrieve it.
"No!" another shouted while running, his head twisted back in panic. "Keep moving!"
But it was too late. Wehrmacht soldiers appeared, their grey coats fluttering wildly as they leapt over barbed wire, sandbags, and other hastily erected defenses. A barrage of shots erupted as more and more soldiers poured in.
The man reaching for the machine gun was torn apart, pierced by countless bullets, his death a brutal warning.
The second defensive line was lost. The status of the first was unknown.
The third did not exist.
All while a single Polish man remained.
Leon crouched inside a narrow alley, holding his breath, his eyes wide with terror. They darted between stacks of crates as a German tank thundered past the tight passage, distant shouts echoing from somewhere nearby. He rose quickly, groaning as pain shot through his body.
With one hand pressed against the wall, the shouts growing louder, he stumbled forward as fast as he could manage. An inhuman determination burned in his eyes with every step.
"She has to be alive. No, she is," he muttered through clenched teeth, walking and walking as explosions erupted all around him. He could feel the vibrations ripple through the old bricks supporting his weight.
Then suddenly, whether from a stray grenade or an artillery shell, Leon could not tell, something detonated above him. The building shuddered, and a dark gap tore open where the sky had been.
Leon gathered every last ounce of strength and jumped.
His body flew through the air as large pieces of brick and concrete narrowly missed him. At least, that was what he thought.
He tried to stand again, instinctively putting weight on his left leg. He tripped instantly, his upper body pitching forward while the rest of him refused to follow. Confused, he turned his head.
His eyes widened in absolute horror.
"Ah. AHHHH!" he screamed.
He reached for his left leg, but there was nothing to grab. Only a stump remained. A sharp piece of the collapsed roof lay soaked in blood, his left foot crushed beneath it, unrecognizable.
Leon had been incredibly unlucky and yet lucky at the same time. The cut was almost clean. His left foot had been severed entirely.
"Is this God's mercy?" Leon shouted, his face twisting in agony. "Freeing me from this goddamn leg?"
He clenched his teeth as tears streamed down his face, mixing with sweat pouring from his skin. His hands moved on their own, trembling as he tore a strip from his pants. He pressed it against the open wound and tied it tightly around his shin, knotting it with shaking fingers.
He continued crawling, his mind slipping into blankness.
Only a small door remained in his fading field of vision.
It opened.
Two women stood in the doorway.
"Ah… Anna," Leon groaned, every emotion crashing into his voice at once. Relief washed over his face as his eyes slowly closed. The women rushed toward him.
Darkness claimed him.
The last thing he heard was the distant roar of aircraft engines.
The Polish pilots had finally received the order to strike.
They came once more, their planes cutting through the sky, the men inside fighting with emotions they could no longer afford. Fear. Anger. Doubt. All of it had been pressed down again and again, beaten into submission by training and command.
There was no place for emotion in war. Only duty. Only death.
This time, death came from above.
Countless bombs fell from the skies, crashing down toward Paul's tanks and soldiers.
Yet in war, death is indiscriminate...
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Thank you all for the support! I appreciate every Power Stone, comment, and review.