Mediterranean hegemon

The soldiers didn't care whether the enemy had artillery or not. They immediately lay down like a conditioned reflex and used the experience of avoiding artillery fire in World War I to avoid flying mines. Of course, there was some effect, but the buildings in the city could not be compared with anti-artillery holes and trenches. In addition, the explosive packs used by flying mines were extremely powerful. Many soldiers were not injured by shrapnel, but were killed by the shock wave of the explosion. In particular, there were only a few roads leading into the city. Goering had ambushed on the necessary roads long ago. No matter what the result was, he just fired them one by one.

The sound of "boom" was endless. In the shock of the collapse of the sky and the earth, whether it was the soldiers who were directly killed by the shock wave or the soldiers who were crushed by the collapsed buildings, there was only one result - death.

"Go in, go in... don't stay outside!" As the flying thunder offensive came to an end, General Wetzel, who was observing from a distance, couldn't help but shout: he had seen clearly through the telescope that this was not artillery. If it was artillery, there would not be such an obvious trajectory and irregular parabola of the shells. He couldn't figure out what it was for a while, but he still had self-knowledge. He had to rush over and fight hand-to-hand to have hope.

The vanguard officers and soldiers of the garrison regiment seemed to have heard the order from the rear, and immediately got up and continued to attack, but their nightmare continued: a person might suddenly appear in the corner, in the building, at the window, or even in the sewer, and then throw a bottle over.

At first, the soldiers thought it was a grenade and continued to lie down habitually. Later, they found that it was not a grenade at all, but a Molotov cocktail. Lying down was actually a very bad way to deal with it - not only would glass fragments fly over without warning, but the freely flowing gasoline would spread flames to people. What was even worse was that the old tanks they had high hopes for and were originally intended to use against the Nazi armored trucks (Germany was banned from building tanks after World War I, and all tanks were old stockpiles) were also hard to escape from the incendiary bombs. The crew screamed and ran out of the tanks, and then the fuel tanks detonated by the incendiary bottles exploded.

Wetzel's eyes turned red, and he hurriedly ordered the artillery troops to move forward and suppress the attack with mountain artillery.

Although the mountain artillery blasted the buildings in front of the attacking troops into pieces of broken walls, this kind of ruins did not speed up the pace of the attack. On the contrary, because of the blocking of traffic and roads, it was more convenient for the stormtroopers and commandos to carry out sneak attacks, especially the commandos under Goering. They were fully prepared for street fighting according to the routine of the brave mountain infantry. They did not know the offensive tactics of fighting field battles, breaking through the middle, and flanking on both wings. They were very suitable for this kind of sneak attack and harassment. Moreover, all the personnel involved in the street fighting had taken bravery drugs before the battle, and had an extraordinary tolerance for blood and violence. They even became more excited and excited as they fought.

"Tu Tu Tu" this is the submachine gun shooting;

"Bang" this is the G98 firing a cold shot;

"Pa" and "Bang" are the Molotov cocktails showing off their power.

The soldiers of the garrison obviously have better combat skills, but they are also flesh and blood, and can also be knocked down by bullets. Street fighting is not only about experience and courage, but also about numbers. Wetzel only has two battalions of troops to attack. Facing the endless weapons and stormtroopers in the city, they gradually feel a little fear.

Every house, every ruin, every street, every corner will have unimaginable things waiting for them - bullets, Molotov cocktails and even small explosive packs.

"Asshole!" "Asshole!" Watching the soldiers fall in a pool of blood, Wetzel's eyes turned red. These are the essences retained from the large layoff system after the war. Each of them can lead a battalion. Now the Bavarian thugs have beaten at least 300 battalion commanders and more than 200 people have been injured. The overall casualty rate has exceeded one-third, and the morale of the entire army has become turbulent.

But what was even more desperate was that after the mountain artillery opened fire, the plane led by Goering finally arrived at the junction of Munich and the suburbs. The Hotchkiss machine gun that was removed from the plane was installed again today. Goering rushed to the front with this Fokker fighter, and then there were several civilian aircraft converted from bombers behind him. After the Munich Airport was controlled, these planes were also forcibly recruited by Goering to join the commando. At this moment, all the backbones of the National Socialist Party who had been pilots before the war were operating on it.

"Tu Tu Tu" The Fokker fighter spit out a chain of fire and swept the mountain artillery position behind it; the rest of the planes fired machine guns while letting others throw Molotov cocktails from the air in a hurry. At first, the first few only ignited the position, but one of them happened to hit the ammunition box. The bursting gasoline burned for a while and then exploded with a "boom" amid the artillerymen's terrified screams. The huge air wave swept across the area, and the entire mountain artillery position became a Shura field.

Wetzel was going crazy, but he had no way out. His hastily set up machine guns to try to defend against the air was ineffective. Instead, he was beaten by the National Socialist Air Commando from above and could not take care of himself. He could only run away.

Now, the officers and soldiers in the city were entangled by the stormtroopers and commandos, bleeding all the way. Every step forward into the city center was a huge price to pay, and the remaining troops on the periphery, especially the artillery units, were chased away by the planes and had no way to deal with it.

"We can't fight this battle any longer..." Several officers advised Wetzel, "Sir, we are too few in number, and the rebels have planes to help us. It won't solve the problem even if we just break into the city center."

"Then what do you say we should do?"

"We must increase our forces, and then surround the city and clear it out... Maybe it will take several days."

"Okay..." Wetzel sighed helplessly, "Send a telegram to the commander-in-chief, we are in trouble, send reinforcements quickly..."

"What? A reinforced Berlin garrison regiment can't beat the rebels? What forces are behind the rebels supporting them?" Seeckt was shocked, slamming the table and angrily scolding, "From Wetzel's tone, adding another regiment may not be enough, at least a division is needed. Is he too incompetent or the rebels too powerful? Can such a good-for-nothing be the director of the military department?"

The staff were speechless: You decided to appoint Wetzel to this position yourself, and now you blame him for being a good-for-nothing? Who has a problem with vision?

"Tell him to send me the details by telegram..." Sickert looked up at the ceiling and sighed helplessly, "Mobilize another division... No, two!"