"I plan to gather all the tank platoons from each combat battalion of the brigade. Over fifty tanks will form an armored fist that, under the cover of artillery, will smash hard into the center of the enemy's defenses,"
"Once we achieve a breakthrough, our mechanized units and motorized troops will quickly follow suit. We must open up a thirty-kilometer deep wound in the enemy's position within a day's time. That's the only way to create conditions for the subsequent friendly forces to break through and encircle them,"
Perbov revealed his plan to his old partner.
After listening, Leroy thought about it and had no objections.
That was truly Perbov's style: charge in and pierce through the enemy.
"If you have no objections, then it's settled. We set out tomorrow morning. The troops have rested for two days now, which is enough. Hopefully, those new recruits that just joined us will prove their worth and not cause any trouble."
As it turned out, the new recruits did not disappoint Perbov. Compared with the veterans who had participated in numerous brutal battles, these freshly arrived warriors were somewhat green, but their level of military skills was absolutely adequate.
Early the next day, as dawn was breaking, the first brigade set off.
The earth-shaking artillery fire blanketed the enemy's positions.
The soldiers and leaders of the Anti-Governor Alliance were stunned by the ferocious bombardment.
In previous encounters with the 7th and 8th Divisions, they had already experienced the power of Alliance Artillery. But at that time, the two divisions combined only had about fifty guns.
However, it was precisely because of the existence of these fifty heavy guns that an Anti-Governor Alliance Army of seventy or eighty thousand men were unable to advance an inch.
It was manageable to defend, relying on fortifications and anti-artillery bunkers; they could just about resist. But when it came to offense, without the counterbalance of artillery and the lack of armored unit cover, those fifty heavy guns were enough to annihilate any attacking force they sent, no matter how large.
After losing a number of men, they realized they couldn't fight like that anymore.
But before they could come up with new tactics, the Alliance's iron fist had already struck.
This time, the rebels' troops were huddled in their usual anti-artillery bunkers and fortifications when the artillery came.
They thought it would be like the artillery strikes they had been enduring every day for the past half a month. Although painful and deadly, they believed they would just have to endure it, and then it would pass.
But in reality, it was nothing like that.
This time, the shelling was much denser and longer-lasting than ever before.
This couldn't possibly be the work of fifty guns!
At this moment, ten artillery battalions from within five divisions were able to join forces, and the number of guns firing simultaneously exceeded three hundred!
All the artillery units from five division-level brigades were almost entirely concentrated. The combined artillery position bombarded relentlessly in the direction where the Wind-Extinguishing Brigade was about to launch an assault.
Within an hour, a hundred rounds were fired, thirty thousand 155mm howitzer shells slammed into the eight-kilometer-wide enemy positions. On average, every thirty centimeters or so, a 155mm howitzer shell would land — there was hardly room for all the shells!
What about the anti-artillery bunkers?
If hit directly, even a slightly shallow dugout would collapse. Those lucky enough not to be hit directly would still have to deal with the earth shaking and soil falling down. After who knows how many tremors, these dugouts might collapse too.
Not to mention that not all soldiers could stay in bunkers; some could only wait in trenches, or even just foxholes.
A direct hit from one of these shells means a group of people would lose their lives.
And these thirty thousand shells were just the prelude to the attack.
When the bombardment ceased, out of a half-buried concrete bunker within the trench, emerged an officer of the Anti-Governor Alliance Army.
He was disheveled, deafened by the artillery, and even had dried blood clinging to his ears.
Just then, at least ten heavy shells had landed near the bunker.
Luckily, none had directly hit the bunker, or he would have lost his life; unfortunately, both exits of the bunker leading to the trench had been hit by shells, which deafened him and shrapnel from the artillery pieces killed several staff officers beside him, also severing one of his arms.
Holding his still-bleeding arm, he stepped out of the bunker to see a trench full of corpses. Some were wailing, but many more were silenced, and there were even parts of people for which the rest couldn't be found.
Staggering, he climbed onto the firing step and looked in the direction of the Alliance Army.
He saw fifty steel beasts spaced twenty to thirty meters apart advancing towards the trench in a skirmish line, coming on with great momentum.
Following behind these cannon-toting steel monsters were countless armored fighting vehicles, so many that he couldn't make out the exact number.
Further back, many trucks loaded with infantrymen were even less discernible.
He shouted loudly at his soldiers to come out and fight, to block the enemy's advance, but he couldn't even hear his own voice — he was deaf.
Nobody responded to his call.
At least where he stood, there were no survivors left.
His dazed and buzzing head had not yet figured out a plan when he saw a tank turn its gun barrel and aim right at his location.