Re: Blood and Iron - Chapter 766: The Weight of Responsibility
Chapter 766: The Weight of Responsibility
The fires over Manila finally ceased burning as the winds of change swept them away.
In the months following the assault, the German Army drowned the ruins in a tidal wave of steel and concrete, rebuilding what they had burned and demolished with almost divine efficiency.
The occupying force provided relief, stability, and order to the city they had shattered, and in doing so, the locals held opinions of them that were equal parts hatred and reluctant admiration.
On one hand, the Germans were enemies brought to their shores by the Americans, and were only doing their best to deny their own enemy a foothold in the region.
But on the other hand, their onslaught had been relentless and brutal. Civilian casualties were often, if not always, disregarded in pursuit of overwhelming tactical and strategic victory.
The American Army, what was left of it, had fled Luzon and dispersed across the other islands of the Philippines, trying their best to use the broken terrain to continue a fight they had already lost by every practical measure.
Erich found himself at the airfield in the aftermath of the victory.
His battalion, and the brigade it belonged to, were in the midst of recovering from their losses. Replacements were shipped to the Philippines almost as soon as Manila fell, and he stood there watching them disembark from the strategic airlift.
The men came in new vehicles. A design from his grandfather’s factories, meant to replace the infantry fighting vehicles and light tanks that had been reduced to scrap.
While still based on the Entwicklung-series chassis, several improvements had been made to increase troop capacity and distribute landing stress more effectively.
In the past, many airborne vehicles had failed to survive real combat drops.
Wheeled 8×8 APCs survived training drops during peacetime, but under fire, operators pushed the limits, deploying chutes too late, wrecking their vehicles and risking catastrophic failure.
Terrain outside Europe, the Middle East, and the steppe had proven equally unforgiving. Mud, foliage, and broken urban streets turned wheeled vehicles into beached whales.
Because of this, all airborne vehicles had been standardized to a tracked composite chassis with explosive reactive armor covering critical sections.
The turrets had also been changed. Gone was the standard 30mm auto-cannon as the primary armament.
In its place was a hybrid system reminiscent of the BMD-4M from Bruno’s past life: a 105mm low-velocity, low-pressure gun capable of firing HE-Frag, HEAT, APDS, and even ATGMs. Its secondary was a coaxial 30mm auto-cannon.
The main weapon was meant for heavier armor, bunkers, trench systems, and fortifications.
The secondary was for lighter armor and soft targets.
Erich stared at the new machines as they rolled out. And the same thought echoed in every survivor’s mind:
If we had these months ago, half of us would still be alive…
Then came another vehicle, based on the same chassis but stripped down for a crew-only complement. A new airborne light tank, though “mobile support gun” was probably the more honest name.
The older light tanks had been stripped of their 75mm turrets and replaced with a 105mm high-velocity main gun. The same smoothbore used on the E-50s, now mounted on a sleeker turret and a lightweight frame.
The sight of it made Erich stamp out his cigarette and walk away. After the difficulties he and his men had overcome in Manila due to a lack of proper armored support, he felt as if the sudden rollout of these new vehicles was an insult to those who had died fighting.
Sure, he understood that these new designs were likely based on the failures of the operation. But he couldn’t stomach the idea of looking at them, especially as they rolled off the plane with replacements for the good men who had perished under his command.
He headed toward the barracks, where he spotted the colonel of his brigade wearing a particularly grim expression. Erich snapped a salute; the Colonel returned it half-heartedly, his mind clearly elsewhere.
“I suppose some congratulations are in order…” the Colonel muttered.
Erich raised a brow.
“For what, exactly?”
The Colonel sighed. His face bore wrinkles that had not been there before Manila—etched lines of exhaustion, guilt, and age.
“Those halfwits in Berlin dragged their heels, but they finally decided to award you the medals you’re due. And… there’s something else.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Erich unfolded it and read the words from High Command. He didn’t even manage to speak before the Colonel cut him off.
“It appears Generalfeldmarschall Erwin Rommel needs a new adjutant, and I’m being transferred to the position. Which means you’re the new Brigade Commander. I know this is probably inappropriate of me to spoil the surprise, but I won’t be here to congratulate you when they give you your new rank.”
Sorrow flickered across the Colonel’s face, not just for the men lost in Manila, but for the reality now confronting him. He had been outshined by a subordinate during a near-disastrous operation, and High Command had made its decision.
Erich was at a total loss for words. He stared at the paper for a very long time, disbelief washing over him like static.
Finally, he raised a salute, sharp, full, and honest. The kind of salute a soldier gives only once or twice in his lifetime.
“Thank you, sir. It has been the honor of my life to serve under your command.”
The Colonel forced a tired smile, shaking his head. He returned the salute briefly before turning away. But he glanced back with a wry, heartfelt smirk.
“You’ll hate it more than I do… looking after those boys, keeping them from getting themselves killed in the dumbest ways possible. But you’ll be better at it than I ever was. You have already proven that…. Until we meet again, Oberst.”
Erich didn’t know whether he’d ever see the Colonel again, or whether he’d live long enough to.
All he knew was this:
He was now responsible for the lives of four times the men he’d commanded yesterday.
And the weight of that truth settled on him heavier than any rucksack he had ever carried.
