I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun-Chapter 806: Washington D.C (22)

"The enemy is retreating across the entire front. According to reconnaissance satellite data that is updated every 90 minutes, the isolated Black Eagle base is being restored to its original form."

"According to the analysis of the operations officers, there are two possible retreat routes for the Black Eagle. One is Andrews Air Force Base, and the other is toward Annapolis."

"Considering their technological capabilities and the difficult terrain, an attack using cruise missiles, ballistic missiles, or air power is not considered to be cost-effective."

"After waiting for the retreat, it would not be a bad idea to attack with the aircraft of the 12th Carrier Strike Group, which is under overhaul at the entrance to Chesapeake Bay."

The screams of the Black Eagle as it falls shake Washington, D.C.

The casualties of the day, displayed on one side of the screen, and the total number of deaths of all American soldiers who died while reclaiming Washington, D.C. continue to rise, but the United States does not stop.

Just a few months ago, the enemy, who had seemed like an impenetrable iron wall and a human-machine wielding incomprehensible science and technology, began to crumble little by little like a sand castle being eaten away by waves, and the bodies of the American soldiers who had been unilaterally attacked were set on fire.

It wasn't just because the enemy was collapsing. It was because the 'capital recapture' that I had never thought of while serving as a soldier had become a reality.

It wasn't something that would go down in history.

The advance of the American soldiers and the blood they shed were writing history in real time.

"Don't be impatient! We will neutralize the enemy's defense line one by one!"

"30 seconds until the artillery target is reached! Get into the building! If any idiots get hit by friendly artillery fire and fall, I will laugh at them myself!"

"Get down-!"

Kuung!

At the moment when at least twenty high-explosive bombs struck the ground at once, the American soldiers hundreds of meters [N O V E L I G H T] away from the epicenter felt the shock as if the entire capital was shaking with their whole bodies.

Those operating the infantry fighting vehicles were even more tense, looking at the thermal images. They had to be the first to be deployed to the area where the artillery fire had fallen.

The ADS was in operation and ready to defend against any possible anti-tank missile attacks, but if it malfunctioned, exceeded the processing limit of the automatic interception system, or if an EMP flew in and broke the function.

The threat of death was lurking everywhere. Two Strikers equipped with Leonidas HPM (High-Power Pulse Attack Weapon) were slowly following behind in preparation for a possible drone swarm, but no one could be sure if that would be enough.

The large-scale artillery bombardment that had pounded the base ended, and the Striker armored vehicles moved forward leisurely.

The gunner, with a tense expression, continued to wiggle his fingers to check if there was anything he hadn't seen beyond the screen, and did his best to be ready to respond at any time.

Hundreds of US suicide drones launched simultaneously from the drone hangar in the rear, and filled the airspace of Washington D.C. with ominous propeller noises as they flew toward the target point.

War always unfolded on a scale that mere humans could not understand, and every US soldier there chose to be one of the many soldiers who thought so.

"Open the way! We have to push this place even if it means piling up a mountain of corpses!"

"Armored vehicles are ahead... damn it, the turret is firing at us! Return fire! Striker, you damned bastards! Return fire! Before all of them get torn to pieces!"

The moment the bombing ended, what followed was a pure and honest battle between the two.

The US military lost the equivalent of a squad for every few dozen meters they advanced, but they were burning the Black Eagle bases to ashes at the cost of blood and lives.

Tens of thousands of dollars were lost every second, and dozens of soldiers on both sides lost their lives every minute.

However, no one there was going to waste the blood that someone else had shed.

The Maryland National Guard, which was called a simple home guard and weekend warriors, had grown by leaps and bounds after experiencing dozens of unprecedented battles.

To be precise, there was no one in the US military who had not grown.

Such soldiers risked their lives to open the way, and their number was more than several times that of the Black Eagle operators stationed at the base. The result of their head-on collision with the base was predictable.

With each engagement, they increased the blue area on the map at the expense of those who did not return.

That was the burden that those who chose the path of a soldier bore.

And-

"Notice! The 175th Infantry Brigade has successfully recaptured the White House!"

"Damn, is this real? Oh my God, Father in Heaven...!"

"Another friend who will go down in history."

The weight came with a price.

At the cost of countless blood and sacrifices, countless units wove their own honor and glory into the tapestry of history.

It was honor at best, glory at best, but conversely, nothing could lift the morale of soldiers as much as honor and glory.

Even those who had lost their comrades and superiors just a few minutes ago did not say that the dead had made a meaningless sacrifice. The survivors could proudly honor those who had gone before.

And these achievements could make even the soldiers who had been sent to the hospital not lose their purpose in life.

The intensive care unit was filled with soldiers who had been wounded in a single battle and had to rely on painkillers for the rest of their lives, but they still had smiles on their faces.

Even those who couldn’t smile often cheered when they heard information coming from the front lines.

“Our troops recaptured the White House! The 175th Infantry Brigade was the main character!”

“Oh my god, damn it, I had to be evacuated without seeing that sight...!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man. It was because you paved the way that the guys who were following behind survived.”

“Ha, haha. That’s right, that’s right!”

The operatives were more enthusiastic than anyone else in delivering news from the front lines to the wards.

Due to the enormous number of wounded increasing every day and every week, even the amount of painkillers was extremely insufficient, and because of that, the wounded who were receiving only the bare minimum of treatment and groaning in terrible pain for a moment forgot their pain and cheered.

Although no one knew when the physical injuries would heal, the situation, which was updated every minute or hour at the shortest, or every few days at the longest, quickly relieved the soldiers' inevitable PTSD.

Of course, this was also due to the fact that the battlefield was Washington D.C., or the capital.

The Lincoln Memorial, the Tidal Basin, the Washington Monument, and the White House once again fell into the hands of the US military.

A few days later, the Smithsonian and the National Museum of Natural History were dyed blue, indicating friendly territory, and two weeks later, all the Black Eagle troops occupying the US Capitol were killed.

Around that time, the Pentagon TOC was able to gain a closer look at the current situation of the Black Eagles.

"Kestrel, Talisman, Wraith, Crow, Slingshot, Atlas... I guess all the ones that were going to be revealed have been revealed. Was that mosquito guy's call sign Wraith? You have a better sense of naming than I thought."

"I think he was really hurt because he was always called a mosquito, but now if you call him by his proper name, he'll be touched and change his mind, right?"

"We can't do that. So... Team Leader Owens, when we meet again, please call him properly. And let me know how you reacted."

"...Did you drink vodka?"

"Um, don't take jokes too seriously."

Through information about the commander-level personnel deployed to Washington D.C., the Pentagon TOC had a clear idea of ​​who they had to deal with and how.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. As soon as the Dagger team checked the data, they were able to see who they had been so passionately interacting with.

Out of the four commanders in charge of each brigade, he was the most striking in appearance, and at the same time, they had been familiar with him for months.

No one in the Dagger team reacted indifferently to that appearance or the race.

After some time, silence fell over the TOC, the operational command center where the Dagger team was located.

It wasn't that they simply had nothing to say. They were thinking. Among them, the first thing that came to everyone's mind was the issue related to Race's position.

They had thought that he was at least a commander who would be directly dispatched to the field, but the position was much higher than expected, so the Dagger team opened their mouths in a nervous manner.

"...He was a guy with a lot of liver."

"Now even his skills so far, the allied mutants can somehow overwhelm it, but it is not a type that can measure the activation range, power, or transformation method of the ability, and it is also quite difficult in that it continues to grow...

"Well, we will do something about that part. You guys, just worry about getting back safely."

"That's right."

It was unclear what Race would think of the other mutants, but it didn't really matter.

The mutants belonging to the Dagger team, including Olivia, were planning to take advantage of the Black Eagle's most vulnerable moment to head to the enemy's retreat point, near Anderson Air Force Base.

Based on the internal network data that was left without a chance to be destroyed, the Pentagon TOC knew around mid-October that the Talisman Brigade was retreating first using the Kestrel Brigade as a shield, and naturally, the TOC guessed that the Talisman Brigade was a more important target.

The Dagger team didn't know about the internal conflict within the Black Eagle command, and they didn't need to know.

The Dagger team's minds were already filled with the Black Eagle forces in Washington D.C., being unilaterally beaten and naturally disappearing.

"Should we leave the youngest behind? "You're good at traps, so that'll help you when dealing with Wraith."

"All right. It's common to block mutants with mutants, but we have to be prepared for cases where that's not the case."

"Well then."

Laurentina smiled as if she was about to interrupt, then added, remembering something.

"If you meet Wraith in Washington D.C., tell him to say goodbye to the Talisman Brigade."

"That's funny. "Let's do that."

Clank.

Laurentina picked up a briefcase-sized object that said 10kt.

Her mouth opened.

"It's going to be a lot of trouble to blow up an entire airbase, so let's finish it before those guys get there."

"I'm looking forward to it."

No one was going to make it back alive - no, maybe one or two would, but there was no one to decide.

The Washington, D.C., operation was coming to an end.

"Race, the official order to retreat has come down. As of now, we have 36 hours to end the engagement in Washington, D.C., and move to Annapolis. I don't know what to do with Secretary Webb's consideration, who is like Ha-hae."

"... What does Mr. Crow think, who commanded several operations in my stead?"

If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.

"Stop the strange honorifics. Of course, it's very late. There are still three air defense bases left, and if you can take them down and prepare to retreat within 36 hours, what else could you be but Jesus?"

"There is no irony like this, haha."

The entire Washington D.C. area began to be covered in red.

At least until a few months ago, the US military avoided unnecessary engagements and left most of the work to the team for fear of excessive casualties, but now it was different. The US military was pushing forward, using their lives as bullets.

A path opened up after a complex combination of numerous factors. It was a success after making an unreasonable attempt to bring nuclear weapons into Washington D.C., and no one wanted to miss the opportunity.

The US military had no choice but to accept the fact that they had to open the future with blood.

And the Kestrel Brigade was bearing the brunt of the consequences.

"So, did our honorable Secretary Webb say he would take me with him?"

"Yes. Except for a few, the order to retreat was given to the Kestrel as a whole. They probably didn’t intend to abandon them. Among them, they specifically singled out you and me. If you want, they’ll send a helicopter, so get out.”

“... I tried to laugh it off, but now I’m starting to get a headache. I’ll stop listening.”

“Let’s do that.”

Even a situation that was ridiculous enough to make you laugh would start to hurt your head if it went too far.

The fact that such a statement was made was indicative of how Secretary Webb viewed the troops deployed to Washington D.C.

A literal shackle.

Originally, they were going to end it by crashing into the Pentagon, but after thinking about it, they decided it was a waste, or maybe they thought there was a chance that Kestrel could be rescued...

“Even a middle schooler’s heart would turn around more slowly than this. There’s no other comedy.”

“Well, no one knows the truth. It would be a reasonable decision to openly use a brigade unit as a waste of time."

"The decision is reasonable. It's just that the process of getting there was surprisingly stupid."

That was exactly what he said.

Since there were signs of retreat, he retreated. She didn't want to nitpick that part, but the shameful behavior she witnessed while reaching that conclusion made her completely lose interest in Black Eagle.

This content is taken from fгeewebnovёl.com.

However, given the circumstances, she couldn't discuss that part, so she quickly changed the subject.

"It seems like large drones have been flying around the base all over the place since a while ago, but it was all because of the withdrawal operations."

"Yes. They're destroying key information, and the drones are transporting important supplies. At least 24 hours ago... So, since it started while you were out, there must be a lot of equipment piling up at the staging area by now."

"I see."

A brief silence.

Race leisurely lifted her wrist tablet and checked the orders that had been given while she was away. The names of about 1/5 of the 2,500 Kestrel soldiers were marked in red.

Race burst into laughter after confirming that.

"About 500 people were selected as meat shields for Kestrel."

"It's not a small number, but it's an appropriate number compared to the number we brought. So, do you think 500 people will be enough to buy time until Kestrel retreats?"

"It's not impossible to hold them off until they reach the staging area. Holding off the US military until they get to Annapolis... "It's bullshit."

Retreat support troops, in common parlance, meat shields.

The initial number of troops dispatched to Washington D.C. by combining Kestrel and Talisman was about 5,000, and in a little less than a year, Black Eagle lost about 1,500 soldiers.

And HQ separately ordered about 500 of them to be taken out and set up as meat shields while Kestrel Command and the rest of the troops retreated, so the expected final loss rate was about 40%.

Although it was far beyond annihilation in terms of judgment, HQ seemed to think that if they could rescue 60%, that would be fine.

As I said, the final decision was not bad. Race could agree with that fact.

However, as I said. The true face of the Syndicate and the pettiness revealed during the process only made her feel sick about staying here.

Race, who had been staring at the screen, said.

"... Goodbye, Crow."

"Will you stay?"

"I can't put Eclipse Gas on the hands of 500 people who will be the meat shields. I don't want to take responsibility, but if something happens before we even transfer to the Pentagon cage, it will be my fault."

"I see. "You've already made up your mind."

"Would you understand if I said I didn't want to stay here anymore because there are too many idiots?"

"Haha, I can't tell you, so tell me later."

At that moment, Crow grabbed her hand.

Race's eyes widened at the sudden change in the situation, but Crow naturally transferred his command to Race through physical contact. It was a desperate measure because her authority was still in a state of demotion.

In the corridor outside Kestrel TOC, there were soldiers whose names were written in red, in short, who were forced to stay here and buy time, and as soon as they noticed that the command structure had changed, they knocked and entered the room.

A mechanical, inorganic voice spread out.

"Transfer of command confirmed. Welcome, Commander Race."

"... You."

"I can't break your will. You've worked hard all this time. Do you have a plan in mind?"

"... Yes. "Roughly."

She added with a sigh, and Crow turned and walked out.

Before he could completely leave the room, his mouth opened.

"... Don't just fall down and die somewhere."

"Same. We still have more than a day left until we leave, so I'll help you out in the meantime."

"Do you think I'll thank you?"

"How dishonest."

I didn't know if I'd ever see him again, but for now, it was for the best.

Maybe.

It was 36 hours until the big retreat.