Chapter 0771: Tragic Fierceness

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" The guns of the German Navy and the artillery and coastal defense cannons of the British Army erupted in a fierce exchange of fire, each shell hurtling toward its intended target.

The British sought to obliterate the advancing German Marine Corps with their shells, while the German Navy aimed to suppress the British artillery, minimizing casualties for their own Marines as much as possible.

"Boom!" A 380mm shell obliterated a British 114mm howitzer position. Meanwhile, a 203mm coastal defense shell tore apart a German landing craft.

Casualties on both sides began to mount rapidly, intensifying the ferocity of the battle.

"Damn it! The casualties among the Marine Corps during the landing are indeed the heaviest!" Watching as landing craft were sunk one after another, Admiral Alexander Linsingen's heart bled. Each Marine was a highly trained and selected individual, their combat prowess unmatched, even against the most elite armies. Yet now, they were sacrificing their lives in the waters. The frustration was unbearable.

Fortunately, as time passed, the landing craft drew ever closer to the shore.

"Get to the positions! The Germans are landing! We must annihilate them, or we will all perish, and our brethren will suffer a brutal death at their hands!" The British commander on the front lines issued the order.

The British soldiers, who had been hiding in defensive positions behind the lines, began to emerge, moving forward through trenches to their forward positions. Despite the intense bombardment and bombing by the Germans, the British defenses, though nearly destroyed, still provided some shelter—better than nothing on the open ground.

"Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!"

The Imperial Army's air force arrived over the battlefield. Over two hundred bombers dove toward the British artillery positions, intent on destroying them and further suppressing the British forces, reducing casualties for the German Marines. Among the two hundred fighters, one hundred were assigned to target the British artillery, while the remaining aircraft strafed the British positions, providing fire support for the Marine Corps.

"Ratatatat!"

The firepower of aerial machine guns surpassed that of infantry's, striking human targets with such ferocity that death or crippling injuries were inevitable—no light wounds.

One fighter swooped down on the British lines, a burst of fire shredding a group of soldiers. Panic set in, and the survivors cowered, frozen in fear.

"My God! German planes! We must run!" A young soldier, terrified, leapt to his feet and fled.

Yet, before he had taken two steps, a bullet from the aerial machine guns struck him. The bullet severed his spine, his body breaking into two.

"No, John!" An older soldier cried out in agony, rushing to lift the young man's shattered body, calling his name in desperation.

"Cold... I'm so cold... I want to go home... I want to be with my mother..." The young soldier muttered, trembling violently.

"Doctor! Doctor!" The old soldier shouted.

"He's gone... there's nothing we can do..." The doctor glanced up, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"No! I must save him. It was I who brought him out here. I have a duty to bring him back!" The old soldier insisted.

"Boom!"

A shell fell from the sky, landing precisely where the older soldier was. The explosion obliterated both him and the young soldier, leaving only a few mangled pieces of flesh on the ground.

The brutal reality of war was laid bare on the battlefield. Life was incredibly fragile here—one bullet, one shell, and a life was snuffed out in an instant.

Under the relentless aerial assault from the German Luftwaffe, the British Army suffered devastating losses, nearly being entirely pinned down in their defensive positions, unable to lift their heads, let alone resist the German Marines' assault. Morale was rapidly deteriorating.

"Bang!"

The first landing craft struck the beach. A dozen soldiers leaped out and quickly scattered in all directions.

They were immediately greeted with a burst of gunfire, and several unlucky German soldiers were killed on the spot. The rest of the soldiers dropped to the ground, terrified, motionless.

Leaping off the landing craft made them prime targets, especially with the enemy's machine guns in play. That split second proved deadly for the German Marines.

"Boom!" A mortar shell exploded on the empty landing craft, reducing it to a burning heap of wreckage.

More landing craft surged toward the beach. Despite significant casualties from British artillery fire, the combined support of the Luftwaffe and naval gunfire allowed the German Marines to secure a foothold on the beach. Armed with their weapons, they began returning fire on the British forces.

"Ratatatat!"

The German squad machine guns roared, emptying a magazine in moments. Though not every shot would find its mark, the psychological pressure on the British soldiers was immense. The sound of bullets whizzing overhead was enough to break the spirit of any man.

A British soldier, poking his head above the wreckage of a trench, tried to assess the situation. But a stray bullet found its mark, and his head exploded like a watermelon, spraying blood and bone in every direction.

"Boom!"

A shell fired by British artillery landed on the beach. Despite the mitigating effect of the sand, several German Marines were killed instantly.

The British desperately tried to wipe out the Germans on the beach, while the Germans fought to push the British back, seeking to establish a solid beachhead. This would enable the Marines and army units to rapidly disembark and press on with their operations, securing a foothold in Britain. Should they fail, this landing operation would be a disaster.