Cannon Fire Arc

On October 20, 915, at 10:30 AM, five kilometers deep in the outer defenses of Abawahan, Nameless Highlands.

Military Chaplain Ilyich Ivanovich found the regimental commander.

He gently closed the commander's eyes, pulled out his pistol from his waist, and turned around to shout, "Get to your positions! Quick! The enemy is coming up!"

With that, he rushed into the communication trenches, heading towards the already heavily bombarded position.

The surviving soldiers followed him, charging through the communication trenches into the position, but each one had a look of bewilderment, obviously not having recovered from the recent intense artillery attack.

Ilyich shouted, "Snap out of it! If you can't, just rely on your regular training! Your body knows what to do! Get the machine guns up to the gun emplacements! And the 45 mm guns! Quickly!"

The Nameless Highlands defenses were built according to the latest defense manual, which, it's said, taken into account the fact that front line troops lacked training and morale, made it as easy as possible for conscripts to play an effective role.

Now, it was time to test whether the experience laid out in this manual was effective.

Ilyich approached the machine gun and patted the gunner's shoulder, "Distances have been measured, set the sights, you don't need to aim to hit someone, so don't be nervous!"

The gunner took a deep breath and seemed even more tense.

At that moment, the roar of engines came from the foot of the hill, and soon the sandbags next to the machine gun began to vibrate, with the surface sand and pebbles bouncing around as if they were droplets in a frying pan.

Ilyich took a deep breath. As the military chaplain and the highest-ranking officer in the position, he couldn't afford to panic.

If he showed any sign of flinching at such a time, it could lead to a total collapse across the position.

After several deep breaths, Ilyich patted the machine gunner's shoulder again, "I'm going to make a round in the position. Hold steady, as soon as the enemy passes the markers, open fire!"

The machine gunner nodded repeatedly.

Ilyich began his rounds along the position. Due to the damage caused by the bombardment, he had to sidestep through the collapsed sections from time to time.

As he walked, he boosted the soldiers' morale, "The enemy are people too, they die when shot, they cower when the machine gun fires, use your weapons well!"

At this, Ilyich happened to be near the Anti-tank Rifle crew, and he said, "Aim for the enemy's vision slits! You understand, the vision slits!"

The Anti-tank Rifle was manned by a man who looked about fifty, wearing a worn military cap with its insignia nearly rubbed off. He said to Ilyich, "Don't worry, Father!"

"Don't call me Father, the civil war is over, the Sanctified faction has been defeated," Ilyich said.

"Alright, Priest Davarish, I have never hit the vision slits during training, never," the older man admitted.

Ilyich reassured him, "Don't worry, others get nervous and can't hit it too. You just need to get your bullets on the tank to create sparks, scare the infantry around it, and that's your mission accomplished.

Also, the enemy's Armored Troops will be accompanied by half-track vehicles, and your Anti-tank Rifle is not too bad against those," Ilyich added.

The older man took a deep breath, "Okay, I'll shoot when I see the half-track vehicles."

Leaving the Anti-tank Rifle crew, Ilyich continued on and then saw Stepan, one of the few veterans in the unit, arranging hand grenades along the edge of the trench.

"Stepan!" Ilyich said sincerely, "It's up to you now."

The veteran simply nodded, without a word.

Ilyich continued forward, rallying every new recruit who looked like they had wilted.

Someone called out, "Enemy tanks, 800 meters away!"

Ilyich immediately dropped to the edge of the trench and peered out, indeed seeing about a dozen tanks in a Strike Formation, followed by an equal number of half-track vehicles.

He couldn't see any infantry for the moment, probably because they were hiding behind the tanks.

Ilyich ducked back in, waving his pistol and shouting, "Remember, use crossfire to clear the infantry following the tanks! Once you've cut off the infantry, close-range Incendiary Bombs can destroy the tanks!"

In fact, Ilyich had never actually fought the enemy hand-to-hand; he used to be a parish priest in the local Church, and his most familiar task was to distribute sausages to the elderly men and women of the community, telling them while he did so that these sausages were made in Secular faction factories, not granted by the grace of the Tsar's little father.

The speed of Ilyich's promotion indicated that he had been highly effective in this role.

But now, he could only wave around a pistol with which he was not very familiar, reciting knowledge he had learned from the manual.

Suddenly, gunfire rang out on the position.

Ilyich stopped and looked towards the anti-tank gun position.

His regiment was only equipped with outdated 45 mm Anti-tank guns, which were ineffective against the strengthened frontal armor of the Panzer III and Panzer IV, even at point-blank range.

Thus, the artillery positions could only hide on the side of the entire position, waiting for enemy tanks to rush into the main position before firing to strike the sides of the tanks, especially the area a bit above the suspension system.

If the artillery was firing now, it meant someone had panicked, already becoming hysterical.

Ilyich shouted, "Stop firing! Dammit! Stop firing!"

He ran along the trench while shouting, approaching the side where the artillery was stationed.

However, the artillery continued to fire, the shells constantly striking the Prosen Tanks, causing sparks but having no effect.

Finally, Ilyich reached the end of the main position, sticking half his body out and yelling towards the anti-tank artillery, "Stop firing, you fool! Do you see any effect?"

"I don't know!" shouted the Lieutenant commanding the artillery, looking at Ilyich, "The Captain is dead, the Captain is dead! I don't know what to do!"

"Stop for now, wait—" Suddenly, Ilyich had a premonition and turned to look at the Prosen formation, catching sight of a Panzer IV with a short-barreled tank gun firing.

"The sound of 'day' pierced Ilyich's eardrums, and before he could hit the ground, the explosion occurred."

The hysterical artillery lieutenant had vanished, and all Ilyich saw was a helmet soaring into the air.

The light gun carriage of the 45mm cannon was flipped onto the ground, followed by a chain explosion of the 45mm shells that hadn't been fired. Enjoy exclusive chapters from My Virtual Library Empire

The enemy continued firing, with at least a platoon of short-barreled Panzer IVs opening fire, quickly swallowing the anti-tank gun position with dust and flames.

"Sukabule!" Ilyich couldn't help but curse, although theoretically, as a cleric, he shouldn't curse, but at a moment like this, that was no longer his concern.

"Priest!" he heard someone shout, "Alexandria has run away!"

"What?" Ilyich turned around and saw Alexandria clutching his Papasha, running frantically backward, not even bothering to pick up his dropped helmet.

Ilyich raised his hand and fired a shot but missed, though his action made Peter, who was just about to leave the trench to run away, hesitate.

Ilyich: "Peter! Think about your sister! How heartbroken she would be if she knew you were a deserter!"

Peter returned to the trench, lying back down beside his comrades.

Ilyich: "I'm scared to death right now too! But we can't retreat! If we do, weren't the deaths of those fallen comrades in vain?"

As soon as his words ended, the spotter called out: "Enemy tanks, five hundred meters!"

Ilyich: "Machine gunner, get ready!"

At this moment, the half-tracks accompanying the tanks opened fire, their machine gun bullets skimming over the trench.

"Don't panic! It's a harassing fire, they haven't really spotted us!" said Ilyich.

Spotter: "Four hundred meters!"

"Stay calm, remember, after cutting off the infantry, the grenade teams get ready!"

Spotter: "Three hundred meters!"

Ilyich felt he should continue to say something about precautions, anything would do, to stabilize the troops' morale.

By then, the vibrations from the approaching enemy tanks were causing dirt to crumble from the trench walls, setting the grenades lining the edge of the trench shaking, their pins clinking.

Suddenly, the machine guns began firing.

Along with the staccato sound, the spotter's shout came: "Two hundred meters!"

Ilyich: "Fire! Fire now! Don't need to aim, just shoot! We've got plenty of bullets!"

The sound of machine guns and the rattling fire of the Papashas echoed throughout the position.

Once again passing the anti-tank rifle position, Ilyich saw an uncle in his fifties take a shot, the bullet trailing an arc of light and striking a distant half-track, sparking a dazzling flash of fire.

The half-track stopped, and one by one, the men on it jumped off and quickly lay down to take cover.

Ilyich: "Well done! Keep firing!"

The uncle operated the bolt, the spent casing ejected by the extractor and falling into the trench. The assistant gunner immediately stuffed a new bullet into the chamber.

Ilyich was pleased with their coordination, but just as he was about to speak, he saw a Panzer IV's turret turn their way.

"Take cover!" Ilyich yelled, and simultaneously, a flash burst from the gun.

The next moment, his consciousness was cut off.

He didn't know how much time had passed when Ilyich's vision returned, his brain felt like it was full of water, ready to explode like a water balloon, and he couldn't hear anything but a buzzing noise in his ears.

He sat up to find the gunner uncle's lifeless eyes staring blankly; it took a second before he reached out to close the eyelids.

He looked around numbly, seeing the assistant gunner clutching his severed arm and wailing, and the anti-tank gun toppled beside them.

Ilyich remembered that he was supposed to fight, supposed to keep firing the anti-tank rifle, so he picked it up, set it up on the edge of the trench, and without much aim, pulled the trigger.

But the gun didn't fire.

Ilyich tried to work the bolt to clear the stoppage, but it felt like it was welded shut, completely immovable.

That gun was probably useless now.

He threw the rifle down, grabbed a clustered grenade from the edge of the trench, roared, and charged out of the trench, pulling the pin and hurling it towards the charging tank.

However, the throw was too short, and the grenade landed in front of the tank, blasting a column of mud seven to eight meters high.

Immediately, a barrage of tracer bullets from the tank cut through the falling mud, sweeping towards Ilyich.

In that instant, he was pulled back into the trench by someone.

Tracer bullets cracked and flew, peppering both sides of the trench, and the flying stone chips scratched Ilyich's cheek.

The pain quickly cleared the fog from his concussed brain.

As the ringing in his ears began to fade, an old soldier, Stepan, shouted at him: "Are you insane! With that distance, no matter how strong you are, you can't throw it far enough! You have to wait for the enemy to come closer!"