Cannon Fire Arc

September 7th, 30 kilometers from the Vistula River, above the frontline.

Wang Zhong held the wireless phone receiver, shouting loudly the number seen on the external display: "1st Battalion of the 229th Regiment, please respond. 1st Battalion of the 229th Regiment, please respond."

"This is the 1st Battalion, please proceed."

Wang Zhong: "What is your situation?"

The bird's-eye view radius was only so limited, and the Pe-3 flew so fast that he hardly had time to see clearly, hence Wang Zhong's question.

"Our losses are manageable, over a hundred casualties, but we're almost out of ammunition; the priests are organizing people to clean the battlefield. However, the enemy also has little ammunition left; the dead enemy soldiers still have one or two magazines left on them, and those who fought only have some leftover ammunition on their guns."

A battalion with over a hundred casualties, and this battalion wasn't fully manned when it launched its attack - no battalion in the entire assault group was fully manned.

In other words, they've lost at least 30% of their force, and the ammunition is almost exhausted—

Wang Zhong: "Hold your position; ammunition and supplies are on the way."

"Yes, Comrade Special Envoy!"

Radio communication could be intercepted by the enemy, and even though Wang Zhong changed frequencies daily, there was a chance some frequency charts were captured by the enemy. So, Wang Zhong assumed the enemy could listen in and required everyone to call him the Special Envoy on the radio.

After ending the communication with the 229th Regiment, he called the next unit's number, and upon getting a response, asked as usual: "What is your situation?"

"Comrade Special Envoy, we have a little ammunition left, but we've completely run out of anti-tank weapons. We are now collecting bottles everywhere to make incendiary bottles; the local people are even contributing their lamp kerosene for us to make them!"

From Wang Zhong's aerial view, it was not the battalion commander reporting to him but a Captain, indicating that both the battalion commander and the deputy battalion commander may have been killed, and the military chaplain might also have perished.

Wang Zhong: "Hold on a bit longer, supplies will arrive soon."

Pavlov devised a supply plan, gathering all the trucks he could find to transport supplies from the rear depots to the front lines.

Because all trucks were concentrated to supply the Vistula River battle group, the rear had mobilized millions of laborers and mule carts to supply other units - laborers and carts mainly took care of the "final leg" from railway stations to the specific units.

Only the Secular faction of the Church had high mobilizing power; otherwise, even with Pavlov's many skills, the supply issue would have been a headache.

Amelia's voice came through the internal line: "It seems most of the troops have successfully reached their planned positions."

Wang Zhong: "Of course, because of my superior command."

In recent days, Wang Zhong had been patrolling the war zone, continually providing real-time enemy positions to the units below, even personally throwing smoke bombs to guide attacks, finally achieving a daily advancement speed of 20 kilometers for the troops.

The Prosen resistance was quite resolute; without Wang Zhong's guidance, some sturdy bunkers and concealed positions with tricky placements would likely have held the troops back for a day or two.

However, with Wang Zhong's guidance, these bunkers and concealed positions were either blown from the back with explosive packs or bypassed altogether, handed over to the following armored troops to handle.

The Prosen forces were cut into pieces by such penetrative offensives, and then each small Prosen unit deployed at critical points was defeated by the armored troops.

As for the Prosen units not at critical positions, they were surrounded by second-line troops but not immediately attacked.

Wang Zhong had already noticed that the Prosen troops he faced seemed incapable of offensive tactics; although his light infantry was without heavy equipment, the Prosens were no better off, with some Prosen divisions only having 105 or even 75 mm infantry guns, lacking even their signature 150 mm heavy infantry guns.

These troops could defend a position for some time, but when it came to attacking, even Ante's second-line troops and militia could stymie them.

Throughout these 100 plus kilometers, the casualty rate per kilometer of advance was significantly lower than before the recapture of Argesukov last year.

Unfortunately, the 100 plus kilometers distance was quite long, and the troops were nearing their limit.

After replenishment, Wang Zhong was somewhat doubtful whether the units with such significant losses could continue to advance. After all, the enemy still had over a hundred thousand troops suppressing the Melanian uprising.

These troops were likely fully equipped, and counting on the Melania Rebel Army to wear them down was not realistic.

Perhaps it was better to wait a bit, to wait for new reinforcements from the rear——

At this time, through his bird's-eye perspective, Wang Zhong spotted familiar units. They were troops transferred from Yegorov's divisions; Wang Zhong saw the 3rd Battalion of this force, while the 1st Battalion, supposedly commanded by Pavlov, was beating the drum.

He wondered how he was doing.

————

Filippov watched as his men took down the bodies hanging from street lamps one by one, lining them up on the sidewalk.

Melania civilians who survived the ordeal were claiming the bodies individually.

The faint sounds of sobbing could be heard, but as Filippov turned to look, he couldn't see who was crying.

Filippov mumbled: "Perhaps it's the land itself that's weeping."

Suddenly, Private Valery ran out holding a Prosen Army flag high: "Look, it's the Prosen Army flag!"

Master Sergeant Misha cursed: "Bad omen, come on, give me a corner."

Then the two of them tore the flag in half, one on each side.

Misha threw the torn flag to the ground, apparently unsatisfied, and stomped on it frantically, ending with a spit.

Other warriors also came over one by one to spit on the flag.

Filippov wondered, if the priest were still here, how he would handle such a situation.