Munitions Empire

On the undulating sea surface, the crowded Navy Marine Corps soldiers of the Great Tang Empire Navy, already drenched by the splashed sea, swayed along with the warship beneath their feet.

"The coastline is right ahead!" The driver operating the infantry landing craft loudly reminded the marines squeezing aboard his vessel.

"Who the hell invented this crappy boat with the hatch opening right at the front, so we get shredded by machine guns the moment we land?" A soldier holding his assault rifle complained quietly amidst the crowd.

After so many training sessions, they no longer vomited on the ship. Their faces were still pale, but at least they weren't throwing up their lunch onto their comrades' backpacks anymore.

"Shut up, this design lets us rush onto the beach the moment we land." An old soldier at the front rebuked, while the approaching waves shattered at the front of the landing craft, dousing the camouflaged steel helmets with salty water as if it were a light rain.

This was far better conditions than when these veterans had landed on Dongwan Island, where more than half of them had to climb ashore from the sea.

The younger soldiers these days really don't know how to be content. Having a ship to deliver them right under the enemy guns, to die—what a blissful thing that is.

The engine was too noisy, the sound of the waves slapping the hull too loud, making it impossible for them to hear the sound of their own beating hearts.

"Your Majesty will bless all brave soldiers! He is the Almighty God! The War God! The God of Health! Devote your all wholeheartedly, and your souls will reach the tranquil beyond! For the Great Tang Empire!" The platoon leader at the bow raised his arm high, leading everyone in prayers to the deity they worshipped.

"Long live the Emperor!" All the soldiers responded with a deep, devout, and determined echo.

"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!" Behind them, shells fired from the destroyers flew over the dense formation of landing crafts, falling onto the distant beach.

The explosions sent up columns of sand and water as high as tens of stories, and the atmosphere on the landing craft grew even tenser.

"Spread out quickly to both sides after opening the door! Don't cluster together! Keep moving to avoid enemy fire! Watch your step! Don't get tripped up by the sea and the reefs!" The squad leader began to remind his men, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of the last landing drill.

The driver piloting the landing craft could see clearly: the smokescreen shells fired by the destroyers had already formed a screen of smoke over the beachhead, obscuring vision.

This is the reality of amphibious warfare: the situation where one watches helplessly as their troops climb ashore under enemy machine gun fire rarely occurs.

Smoke will obscure everything, the enemy will only be able to shoot blindly, which would significantly reduce the accuracy of attacks, covering large numbers of troops as they advance to positions where they can be effective.

The landing troops will disperse through the smoke, pushing forward to a closer distance before launching an assault on those enemy strongholds, ultimately breaking through the beachhead and establishing a firm beachhead position.

Throughout the process, the landing troops might even have tank cover and can communicate with the warships behind them through communication equipment to suppress enemy fire points and destroy bunkers or bombard enemy positions.

If enemy defenses can be accurately scouted before battle, special teams could even be arranged to guide the corresponding warships to bombard enemy bunkers earmarked for them, ensuring that these tough bunkers are completely destroyed.

Of course, that's the case for landing operations on enemy heavily defended coastlines. In reality, the landing beachhead is often free of enemy bunkers, having only simple minefields or just a small number of garrisoned defenses.

"We've arrived! The front door is opening! Machine gunners! Covering fire! Covering fire!" The craft's captain opened the hatch and shouted loudly to the machine gunners on both sides responsible for providing cover.

Machine gunners hiding behind shields immediately began strafing, firing blanks just to create an atmosphere.

As the front gate slowly fell, crashing into the cold seawater, the marines inside the landing craft began their unlucky charge.

With a step into the seawater, socks were instantly soaked through. Carrying weapons and backpacks, laden with equipment weighing tens of kilograms, they trudged through the sand with irregular steps, feeling as if they were truly being worn down by their superiors.

Someone who failed to stand firm fell straight into the water, gulping a mouthful of seawater before struggling to stand up again due to the heavy equipment.

Water dripped from inside the steel helmets down into the collarlines, an exquisitely uncomfortable sensation. Everyone kept moving forward relentlessly, driven by the commands of platoon and squad leaders.

The sand quickly invaded the shoes, chafing against the tops and soles of feet, making every step exceedingly difficult—but they could only continue staggering through the smoke, all the way to a soft sand beach full of craters.

The air was permeated with the salty scent of seawater and the pungent odor that was hard to breathe— the smell of smoke grenades is hardly pleasant, and breathing in this smoke was more irritating to the nostrils than second-hand smoke.

"Squad one! Move to the left! Look at the map! Damn fools! Look at the map! Find the target reference points! Damn it!" The platoon leader, seeing his subordinates' clueless faces, wished he could rush over and kick them.

"I can't see anything! Platoon Leader! It's impossible to see anything!" The bewildered squad leader explained with difficulty.

The place where they landed might not be the pre-determined position. Surrounding them was smoke everywhere; the squad leader simply couldn't find the target he was supposed to attack, nor could he find any nearby reference points.

"Don't just stand there like an idiot! Lead your men forward! Advance!" The platoon leader ripped open the waterproof plastic sheet, took out his assault rifle, and loudly reminded his men, "Prepare the explosive charges! Take down the barbed wire!"

The surrounding soldiers followed, sprinting forward. They felt the real battlefield situation couldn't be more than this; with the choking smell enveloping them, sandals filled with sand, while carrying heavy gear and holding the damn rifles—could there be anything more difficult than this?

"Attack! Attack! Ahead is the enemy's bunker! Be aware of your positions!" Agilely running forward, the platoon leader saw a vague outline. He found a safe spot, jumped into a shallow crater, and lay on the edge to remind his men.

According to the exercise plan, right in front of the "enemy's bunker" should be barbed wire, with trenches on both sides. Their goal was to breach the trenches and get around to the back of the bunker.

"Explosive charges! Where's the demolition team! Get up here!" The platoon leader followed procedures in search of the engineer demolition team assigned to his platoon.

A squad leader, following the sound of his shouts, came back, crouching next to the crater to inform his superior, "Platoon Leader... damn it, the barbed wire ahead has been cut by artillery shells..."

Just now, the destroyer's covering artillery fire was meant to create craters and set the mood using live ammunition. Due to errors, accidents were inevitable.

This time, the accident was that a shell happened to land right on the barbed wire; the explosion severed it, and the soldiers could now move through directly...

The platoon leader climbed out of the crater, awkwardly gestured, and issued a new order: "Continue the attack! Arrange for machine gun cover, circumvent the bunker and breach the enemy's trench defenses from the flank!"

"Yes!" The squad leader picked up his rifle and jogged back to his troop; by this time, the smoke had already dissipated a bit, and the platoon leader could see figures rushing past the barbed wire, one after another, moving towards the trenches beyond it.

"Much better performance than last time... At least there were far fewer accidents." Glancing at the updates from the landing troops, Bernard commented with satisfaction.

"Yeah, much better than last time. But I still wonder, is it really necessary to train like this? Not every part of Mirage Country's coastline is fortified; do we really need to prepare so extensively?" Lu Qianshan, standing behind Bernard, shared his thoughts.

He was once a general of Zheng Country, naturally familiar with the training level of Zheng Country's troops. Compared to the training and exercise standards he knew before, those of the Tang Army were unheard of to him.

Facing such a military, he had no reason to feel wronged by his defeat. Even at this moment, he felt a small sense of relief, pleased that he was now a member of the Tang Army.

"His Majesty once said something," Bernard said to Lu Qianshan with a smile.

As he said this, Lu Qianshan immediately stood at attention, and all the staff officers present stood up straight.

Bernard continued: "'Sweat more during peacetime, bleed less during war.' Now, the more we train, the more proficient we'll be in battle."

After saying that, he lowered his hands, and everyone relaxed from their attention position and returned to their previous busy state.

Lu Qianshan immediately corrected his attitude, expressing remorse: "I spoke rashly. His Majesty has far-reaching wisdom and is brilliant in martial valor."

"The landing craft are starting to withdraw from the beachhead... The second wave of the landing troops is boarding the deck." While Bernard was still smiling, an officer came over and reported to him.

"Make safety the priority, organize the troops to board the craft!" Bernard continued to command: "How is the aviation doing?"

"Take-off and landing training is under way, with the third wave of air support having completed formation..." The officer responsible for coordinating with the Aircraft Carrier Fleet immediately reported.

For security reasons, the aircraft carrier did not participate in the same exercise as the landing fleet, but did report synchronously on the air support situation. Of course, their training was just as serious, with even the start time of the exercise calculated precisely.

"Have the troops calculate preliminary loss assessments... Use the strictest standards!" Bernard instructed, then delegated the command authority of the scene to Lu Qianshan: "You take charge here, make sure there are no messes!"