Chapter 216 : A Cannon Shot Rings Out in Bernoro
Chapter 216: A Cannon Shot Rings Out in Bernoro
The Tsarist army’s charge failed once again, just as expected. Within the narrow D-type trenches, the high rate of fire of the Sten-type submachine gun was brought into full play. The firepower unleashed by just a few soldiers could not compare to that of a single such weapon.
The multi-segment narrow-entrance design made it extremely difficult for tank crews to detect differences on the ground. Many soldiers even directly stacked Explosive Pack along the paths that tanks were bound to roll over, waiting for the vehicle to sink before tossing in a grenade to detonate them.
Although the exceptionally lucky Orba was not killed on the spot, the shockwave from the explosives still blasted him away, sending him crashing into a pool of blood where he lay unable to rise for a long time.
Suddenly, a grenade emitting white smoke landed before his eyes. Orba instinctively murmured, “Mom...”
In truth, Orba was fortunate—his death came without much pain.
Among the soldiers who survived and returned wounded, most would face treatment far crueler than death.
Due to the lack of anti-inflammatory medicine, combined with the accumulation of corpses in the trenches and the highly contaminated environment filled with stagnant water and blood, even slightly severe wounds required amputation. Only then would nuns treat them and seal the bleeding wounds; otherwise, the probability of dying from infection was extremely high.
In fact, if not for fear of triggering a mutiny, they would have wanted to amputate even the smallest wounds.
“Where are the rations? Weren’t the rations for our Second Company delivered? We are the Second Company—why haven’t they been issued to us?!”
The company commander grabbed the quartermaster by the collar and roared, “Give us food! My soldiers can die with honor—but they must not starve to death!”
The quartermaster pushed his hand away. “There’s none left. The last bit of flour was taken by other units. Die with honor? My son died in this war—he didn’t feel any honor at all.”
The company commander slumped onto the cold ground.
“No food… without food, how am I supposed to give that damned order? They want me to send these children across the barbed wire, into the combat zone, to fend for themselves! And yet they won’t even give them one last decent meal!”
At dinner, the Minister of War sat with the Tsar. Looking at the fragrant steak on his plate, he found it hard to swallow.
“Our soldiers’ food supply is somewhat insufficient…”
The Tsar took a sip of wine, savoring it, and after a long pause said slowly, “Then urge the front lines to intensify their offensive. As long as the Bernoro Front Army drives away those damned rabble slave troops, all problems will be solved.”
He cut off a slightly tough edge of the steak and tossed it onto the carpet, where his pet dog lowered its head and began to eat.
“Give a dog a piece of meat, and it will surely carry it away.”
“Oh right, where have our warships reached? My son is on board, isn’t he? Hasn’t he commanded a bombardment of Mitoten Port? Foolish boy.”
“Your Majesty, we have received no such report~”
Disappointment flashed in the Tsar’s eyes. This son had not inherited even a fraction of his ability. Even after being sent to the Alliance for study, he was still useless.
Did Prince Curtis not want to bombard the occupied Mitoten Port? No one knew—not even Curtis himself.
Because on the second day after boarding the ship, he discovered that he had been placed under soft detention.
“Wellington! Have you lost your mind? You dare detain a prince?! And we were classmates—have you forgotten?!”
Curtis slammed against the cabin glass, glaring furiously at Wellington outside, dressed in a Tsarist navy uniform.
Wellington replied apologetically, “My apologies, Your Highness. We cannot tolerate our country continuing to drift in the flames of war. The people need a stable life.”
Curtis sharply caught the implication in his words. “You all?”
“Yes… aside from you and twenty-three others, all the other students share my view. According to the Alliance’s voting system, the minority obeys the majority, so…~”
Upon hearing this, Curtis collapsed onto the floor.
Over four years and two cohorts, there had been 400 exchange students—most of them children of nobles, estate owners, and some exceptionally talented merchants or commoners.
The Tsar was not foolish. The exchange students he sent abroad all came from the core ruling class, sharing the same interests as himself. That was why, even knowing the Alliance’s system was completely different, he had not been overly concerned.
But what the Tsar failed to realize was that while he regarded them all as his subjects—his private property—others did not necessarily see them that way.
Nobles, estate owners, merchants, and rich farmers—how could these four groups ever truly hold equal status?
At the time, most of the children sent by noble and estate-owning families were the least favored within their households.
When the Tsarist nation was at its peak, these people might have spent their entire lives as idle, decadent heirs.
But Mitia had long decided not to treat foreign exchange students any differently—they were educated in exactly the same way.
The Alliance, urgently in need of fresh blood for its military and political systems, trained university students as future pillars of the state—officers, administrators, scientists, and scholars.
They enriched their experience, toughened their bodies, broadened their horizons, and taught them to think and act as decision-makers, executors, and even policymakers.
In other words, the Alliance also intended to absorb them, welcoming them to stay and work or continue their studies after graduation.
And therein lay the problem.
The Alliance could absorb such broad-minded talent and maintain a steady influx of capable individuals. But that did not mean other nations could do the same.
In countries that had not broken free from land-based production or where the Industrial Revolution progressed slowly, such talents became poison. They disrupted and compressed the already limited resource distribution systems and demanded fair competition.
Refuse redistribution?
After undergoing professional military training in the Alliance, experiencing camaraderie, teamwork in real combat, exposure to the Soldiers’ Committee ideology, witnessing the Alliance’s social environment, and receiving comprehensive education in politics, history, literature, geography, and agriculture—
How many of these young people would truly be willing to remain ordinary?
Who would care about the meager monthly stipend you offered?
If you won’t divide it fairly—then I will do it for you!
And the cruiser sent to return them home provided exactly that opportunity.
These students all came from the same country and spoke freely with one another. Through casual conversations, their views on the nation’s future were gradually uncovered. After being compiled and analyzed by several scientifically inclined students, they identified who was “friend” and who was “enemy.”
What followed was targeted arrests, detentions, and confinement.
Using the lives of these high-born sons and daughters of great nobles as leverage, they successfully disarmed the captain and others, replacing them with students who had prior naval experience.
The ordinary sailors had no choice—whoever spoke the loudest, they obeyed. Thus, Wellington’s student group smoothly took control of the entire warship.
While the Tsar wondered why Mitoten had not been bombarded, the cruiser had already passed various border fortresses and entered the inland sea.
They did indeed intend to bombard a city—but not Mitoten.
Their target was Bernoro.
When the cruiser docked at the harbor, its side-mounted 20mm autocannons and 152mm rapid-fire guns tore apart the city lord and the defensive commander who had gathered to welcome the prince, reducing them to unrecognizable chunks of flesh.
Then, six 210mm main guns and sixteen 152mm rapid-fire guns unleashed a frenzied bombardment upon the Bernoro Port City Lord’s Mansion.
Everyone was stunned.
The thunderous explosions of artillery shells could be clearly heard even in the trenches where both armies were locked in battle on the outskirts. The blazing main city, engulfed in flames, was an overwhelming sight.