Is This... an Anti-Aircraft Gun?
So this was... an anti-aircraft gun?
Six hundred meters.
We were finally close enough to make out the seams in the enemy's armor plating.
"Now."
At my murmur, Major Hermann roared himself hoarse.
"All batteries! FIRE!!"
BOOOOM—!!
With a thunderclap that seemed to flip the earth itself, the 88mm muzzles spat fire.
The tremendous muzzle blast tore the camouflage netting to shreds and scattered the piled brick rubble and sandbags in every direction.
True artillery firepower—on a wholly different dimension from any tank gun.
And then—
Shiiiing—!
A high-velocity armor-piercing shell, traveling at nearly 1,000 meters per second, far too fast for the naked eye to follow, tore through the air.
CLANG!
A metallic shriek rang out—sharp enough to be almost pleasant, and chilling for it.
Sparks sprayed from the front glacis of the lead Renner medium tank. A ricochet? No.
CRUNCH!
With a dull, meaty impact, the thirty-ton hunk of steel lurched backward as if struck by a giant. The armor-piercing shell, laden with absurd kinetic energy, smashed through the enemy's sloped armor like rotten plywood and surged inside.
And 0.1 seconds later.
BOOOOM—!
The ammunition detonated within the tank's hull. The tens-of-tons steel turret blew skyward like a popped champagne cork.
Thud.
The turret hit the ground and spun like a top. From the decapitated hull, a massive pillar of flame roared upward.
"...Huh?"
Someone let out a slack-jawed moan.
"W-we... we punched through?"
Brigadier General Dietrich mumbled, dazed.
It was an unbelievable sight. Armor that neither 37mm shells nor mana rounds could touch had crumpled like wet cardboard.
"Second round, load! Quit gawking and keep firing!"
My shout snapped the gunners back to their senses. They managed to reacquire the enemy tanks through the swirling clouds of dust.
CRACK! BOOM!
Round after round shook the streets of Rosenheim.
The second tank frantically tried to swing its turret, but the 88mm shell was faster.
WHAM!
The turret flew off, gun barrel and all. The steel giant, minus its head, lost momentum, wobbled in circles, and slammed into a pile of building rubble.
The tanks behind slammed on their brakes in panic—but the narrow intersection was already choked by the burning lead vehicles. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
They were perfect targets.
CRACK! THOOM!
"Third tank destroyed!"
"Fourth tank, tracks severed! It's stopped!"
The third tank took a hit to the flank and rolled over; the fourth spun in place on its broken tracks until a follow-up shot reduced it to scrap.
But the tide didn't flow only our way. Once the advantage of the initial ambush wore off, the surviving Republican tanks popped smoke and launched their counterattack.
Psshhhh—!
"Damn it! Smoke! Visibility's gone!"
"C-cease fire! We'll hit our own men!"
The flak crews shouted in confusion. No matter how powerful the 88mm was, with visibility completely smothered, it was rendered mute as a gagged fool.
But I had my cheat skills. I focused on the [Minimap] in the corner of my vision—and there they were, the enemies in the hazy smoke, glowing clearly as red dots.
They were feigning retreat, then looping behind a collapsed building to strike our flank.
"Battery Three! Two o'clock—the wall of the red-roofed building, aim there!"
At my shout, the gunner's face went blank with confusion.
"Sir? That's just a brick building! I don't see any ene—"
"Shoot when I say shoot! They're hiding behind it!"
Cowed by my bark, the gunner swung the barrel around in a daze.
"AP round loaded! Fire!"
BOOOM—!
The muzzle belched fire, and an 8.8cm shell screamed downrange at more than three times the speed of sound.
KRAKOOM!
The thick brick building burst apart like a firecracker. And from beyond it came the death-scream of steel that had been holding its breath.
CLANG! BOOOOM!
"It—it hit them through the wall?!"
When the smoke cleared, the carnage lay revealed. The armor-piercing round had punched clean through the building and sliced into the tank's side armor. The Renner, its guts spilled out, sat motionless and vomiting black smoke.
The Air Force soldiers' jaws dropped.
"Th-this doesn't make sense..."
"It goes through a building AND a tank?"
Only now did they grasp the true power of the weapon they crewed. Against aircraft, it barely managed to toss out a few fragments—but on the ground, it became a spear of death that pierced everything.
"What are you waiting for?! Push while they're rattled!"
I clapped Major Hermann, still standing there like an idiot, on the shoulder.
"Ah—right! All batteries! By Captain Jaeger's orders! Keep firing!"
Hermann's eyes had changed. The fear was gone, replaced by a strange, feverish intensity.
"Ten degrees right! Range four hundred! Moving target!"
I called coordinates off the [Minimap] without pause.
"Lead the shot! Aim where he'll be one second from now!"
CRACK!
"Hit! Turret ejected!"
"Eleven o'clock—he's hiding behind the rubble! Take out the lower hull!"
CRACK!
"Tracks destroyed! He's stopped!"
It was a one-sided slaughter.
"KWAHAHAHA! Did you see that?! You saw it?!"
At some point, Major Hermann had scrambled atop a battery and was brandishing his指挥 baton—his swagger stick for all to see.
"THIS is the power of the Air Force! Blow every last one of those idiotic army tin cans to hell!"
Status Analysis.
Name:Heinrich von Hermann
Condition:Extreme excitement
Emotion: Deeply electrified by the sight of his beloved, pampered anti-aircraft gun disemboweling tanks.
I could hardly believe this was the same man who'd been shivering behind his regulation manual not five minutes ago.
"Major! There's one more over there—running tail tucked!"
"Don't let it go! Not a single damn fly gets out of here without my permission!"
BOOOM—!
A hole punched through the engine compartment of the last fleeing Renner. It sputtered a few times, then ground to a halt with one final massive detonation.
Annihilation.
The vanguard battalion of the Republic's pride, the 4th Armored Division, had been transformed into a scrapheap at Rosenheim Station—held by a single infantry brigade.
The streets were filled with the burning wrecks of tanks and the acrid stench of oil. And then, a moment later—
"We... we won..."
"We took out tanks! We annihilated an armored force!!"
"WAAAAAAAH!!"
The infantrymen, pinned in their cover, came pouring out with cheers. They hugged each other, threw their helmets in the air, and reveled in the victory.
But the most excited of all were the airmen.
"Unbelievable. It's just... unbelievable."
Major Hermann was caressing the still-smoking barrel of the 88mm like the skin of a lover.
"This gorgeous penetration... this overwhelming stopping power... why did I never know? This was never something to waste rusting as a flak gun."
He turned to me with an expression of pure rapture.
"Captain Jaeger! No—Jaeger-nim!"
Suddenly, my honorific had changed.
"You're a genius! How did you even conceive of this? It's a revolution! You've rewritten the entire paradigm of the anti-aircraft gun!"
"I was just putting out a fire, that's all."
"No, no! You saw the true worth of this 88—of the Acht-Acht—when no one else could!"
Hermann spat as he clasped both my hands in his.
"Regulations? They can go to the dogs! I must report to Air Force Command at once—demand more armor-piercing ammunition for this beauty! No, better yet—we should establish dedicated anti-tank batteries altogether!"
Heh.
"Acht-Acht...! Ooh, my darling 88-millimeter..."
He had gone completely off the rails.
Just then, someone staggered out from behind the cover. It was Brigadier General Dietrich.
He stared at the graveyard of burning Republican tanks with an expression of pure disbelief. An entire battalion's worth of state-of-the-art tanks, sprawled around as scrap metal.
"Heh, heheh..."
His lips trembled.
Status Analysis.
Name:Karl von Dietrich
Condition:Extreme euphoria
Emotion: Struggling to believe he has won an overwhelming victory against a Renner tank battalion.
Hidden Desire: To package this achievement for himself, pin a second star on his shoulder, and strut his stuff in the capital's political arena.
"We held... we actually held..."
He slowly turned his head toward me. The eyes that had been brimming with fear and tension were nowhere to be found.
"Captain Jaeger!!!"
Whoosh!
The old gentleman forgot his dignity entirely and ran over, throwing his arms around me.
"What... what in God's name ARE you?! Are you even human?! How did you manage this—these impossible, impossible feats!"
Ah, that would be...
...canon, actually.
"Good luck, sir. The Air Force cooperated—that's all there was to it."
"Luck?! When modesty goes this far, it becomes deception! This is a miracle! A revolution in tactics!"
Unable to contain himself, Dietrich slapped my shoulder again and again.
"When Central Command reads this report, they'll faint dead away! An infantry brigade annihilates an armored force?! Hahaha! My star! My star is shining again!"
The old fox's head was already stuffed full of promotion fantasies.
Not that I minded. The higher he climbed, the more my value as his brain rose with him. For now, the arrangement worked in my favor.
But despite the brigadier's celebrations, the situation around us remained dire.
"Supply team! Get ammo moving! Especially AP rounds—rair the Air Force depots if you have to!"
"Medic! The platoon leader's down over here!"
The battle was over, but the war had only just begun. There was no time to get drunk on victory.
"Brigadier General. And Major Hermann."
I dumped cold water on the two celebrating men.
"Congratulations later. Those were only their spearhead. When the main force hears the news, they won't sit still."
At my words, the mirth drained from Dietrich's face.
"Ah—right. Of course. The main force... the entire 4th Armored Division... we have to assume they're coming."
"Yes. Which is to say, several hundred more tanks."
"S-several hundred..."
Just as Dietrich began turning ash-pale again, Major Hermann's eyes flashed and he cut in.
"Hah! Let them come! As long as I have my Acht-Acht, they're nothing but scrap metal with delusions! Captain Jaeger, as you said—we'll rebuild the positions. How about we construct dedicated anti-tank ambush nests this time?"
...
Instead of answering, I used [Status Analysis].
Status Analysis.
Name:Heinrich von Hermann
Condition:Addicted to the visceral thrill of watching his guns tear tanks apart.
Yeah. This man had definitely lost it.
The elite-Air-Force pride was long gone; all that remained was a firepower fanatic. Well, no harm in it—his maniacal zeal was exactly what we needed right now.
"Very well. Major, gather every operable 88mm gun you can lay hands on. We'll use the ruins of Rosenheim's streets to form kill zones."
"Leave it to me! I'll wring the Air Force maintenance crews dry if that's what it takes!"
Major Hermann hurried off, practically whistling. He was, for all intents and purposes, a fish in water now.
"Major! Battery Three is in position! Setting up camouflage!"
"More ammunition! Bring more ammo! I said sweep the warehouse clean, every last shell!"
The airmen and officers who had witnessed the 88's power were throwing themselves into the redeployment with gusto. I watched the scene for a moment longer, then cut across the ruins of Rosenheim.