Chapter 0776: A Bitter Struggle

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"

Illumination flares streaked into the sky, their blinding white light transforming the darkness into an almost surreal daylight. Exposed by the harsh glare, British soldiers were mercilessly mowed down by the devastating firepower of the German forces.

Machine guns, rifles, grenade launchers, and mortars unleashed a relentless torrent of fire, sparing no expense in ammunition. The ferocity of this assault inflicted catastrophic casualties on the advancing British troops.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A relentless rain of artillery shells fell like a storm. With pre-calculated targeting coordinates, the shells landed just in front of the German positions, ensuring minimal risk of friendly fire. Countless British soldiers were obliterated by the blasts, their bodies torn to shreds, with severed limbs scattering grotesquely across the battlefield.

Although the cloak of night obscured this infernal scene, the thick, nauseating stench of blood permeated the air, an oppressive reminder of the carnage.

"Call in our artillery! Order an immediate bombardment of the German positions!" General Haig commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Their firepower is overwhelming—we won't hold without support!"

Having faced the might of German firepower on the French front, Haig was no stranger to their capabilities. Yet, he was forced to admit he had underestimated their strength. After months of regrouping, the Germans' firepower seemed even more formidable, bolstered by a well-honed strategy against night assaults. For the British, this was dire news—it made the already arduous task of driving the Germans into the sea even more daunting, and success, even with staggering sacrifices, seemed uncertain.

"But General, our troops are dangerously close to the German lines," one officer cautioned. "Given the darkness, our bombardment might hit our own men."

"If the Germans aren't deterred, neither should we be!" Haig retorted firmly. "Their warships fire at us in the open seas—we won't be outdone!"

"Yes, General." The artillery officer had no choice but to obey.

The day's battles had already inflicted significant losses on British artillery units. German naval guns and aerial bombardments had decimated much of their artillery and crews, leaving barely half operational. Even the well-fortified coastal batteries had suffered heavily under the pounding of the German battleships' 380mm main guns, whose immense firepower, particularly the armor-piercing rounds from 50-caliber barrels, had proven devastating.

Following Haig's orders, the British artillery began their bombardment, braving the risks of misfires. Guided by pre-marked coordinates and frontline spotters' reports, they attempted to strike German positions while avoiding friendly casualties. However, British gunnery lacked the precision of their German counterparts, and stray shells inevitably fell among their own advancing ranks, causing further losses. In the chaos of the night, many British soldiers, unable to discern the origin of the deadly shells, blamed the Germans for all their misfortunes.

"Boom!"

A 114mm shell struck a German position, obliterating several riflemen in a gruesome explosion, their remains scattered across the battlefield.

As more British shells rained down, German casualties steadily mounted.

"Damn it! Suppress their artillery!" roared Lieutenant General Alexander von Linsingen, commander of the German Marine Corps. "Our positions are too confined—if the British continue this barrage, our losses will become unbearable!"

Under his orders, German warships stationed offshore shifted their fire to target British artillery positions. Yet the cover of night hindered their accuracy, even with the formidable firepower of 380mm and 280mm naval guns. In the darkness, adjustments were nearly impossible, leaving much of the bombardment to luck.

Despite these challenges, the German counter-barrage inflicted significant damage on British artillery, easing the pressure on their frontline troops.

The battle raged on with unrelenting intensity. Three elite British infantry divisions pressed their attack against the German positions, while the Germans, leveraging their superior firepower, fiercely repelled them. The unceasing rain of shells exacted a heavy toll on both sides, though the British paid a far steeper price.

"Ratatatat!"

A British heavy machine gun advanced to within a hundred meters of the German defenses, unleashing a torrent of bullets that claimed the lives of several German soldiers and pinned down the others.

"Mortars and grenade launchers! Take out that machine gun!" a German lieutenant ordered.

A 60mm mortar and two grenade launchers opened fire.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A mortar shell and two grenades struck the British machine gun emplacement, reducing it to twisted metal and tearing its crew to pieces. With the threat neutralized, the German troops resumed their suppressive fire, cutting down any British soldiers who dared to approach.

"Charge! Defeat the Germans and drive them into the sea to feed the fish!" British soldiers roared as they surged forward with reckless determination.

Yet what awaited them was the unyielding hail of fire from the German defenses. Countless British soldiers fell, their bodies piling up before the German lines, forming gruesome barricades of the dead. Blood flowed freely, staining the earth a deep crimson.

"My God, don't these Brits fear death?" a German machine gunner muttered. "We've killed so many of them, yet they don't flinch. They're nothing like the British we've fought before."

"These must be their elite troops," a German lieutenant replied grimly. "They're a far cry from the rabble we've encountered before. But once we've annihilated them, the rest will be easy to deal with."