The emperor's blade, unveiling the curtain of hell

The next day, a fierce bombardment blasted holes four to five meters wide in the positions the Germans had built.

The entire defensive line teetered under the bombardment. Eitel nervously held up his binoculars, watching the distant positions.

"Your Majesty, please return to the command post first. It is still too dangerous here."

General Konstantin urged Eitel from beside him. After all, they were still within range of the Allied bombardment, and shells could fall at any moment.

He was old, and his death would not matter, but Emperor Eitel, who had only just ascended the throne, could not be lost here. That would be a heavy blow to the entire Hindenburg Line and the whole German Empire.

Despite Konstantin's urging, Eitel stood firm and continued looking through his binoculars. "General Konstantin, have the artillery positions on the east bank of the Meuse River calculated the precise locations of the enemy guns?"

Konstantin immediately perked up at Eitel's words. "According to Georg Bruchmüller's report, the enemy artillery positions this time are mainly distributed along the right bank of the Meuse River, within range of our guns."

Konstantin's report was within Eitel's expectations. Although he was not quite clear on the precise locations, the German artillery of this era were no freeloaders.

As long as the enemy dared to fire, they could calculate the location of their artillery positions in a short while and immediately strike back.

"Who did you say?"

Eitel had been listening to Konstantin's report, but that name instantly caught his interest.

After all, this was the inventor of hurricane bombardment tactics. He had never expected such an officer to be in the Fifth Army under his command.

"Georg Bruchmüller. Is something wrong, Your Majesty?"

Eitel's question left Konstantin somewhat puzzled.

"Nothing. If we have already calculated the locations of the enemy artillery positions, why are we still not returning fire?"

Konstantin pondered for a moment, then extended a hand to indicate the approximate area of the enemy artillery positions. "According to our calculations, the intensity of this bombardment amounts to roughly fifteen hundred light and heavy guns firing together."

"According to the intelligence we received, they have deployed twenty-seven hundred guns this time. The remaining twelve hundred are being held back to counter our artillery positions."

At this point, Konstantin stroked his beard. "If we open fire rashly, we could easily come under counterfire from the guns they have concealed."

Eitel nodded in understanding, then looked toward the distant positions. "Then can our soldiers only let them bombard us at will like this?"

Konstantin nodded somewhat awkwardly. "Yes, Your Majesty. For now, we can only wait for their bombardment to end."

The wait for the enemy bombardment to end was long and tedious. Three hours later, they finally ceased firing.

Hearing the bombardment stop, Eitel and Konstantin emerged from the command post and looked toward the distant front once more.

This time was different from before. As the artillery fell silent, masses of troops poured over the distant horizon.

"Tsk, they really do have money to burn. They bombarded us for so long before sending their soldiers in."

Eitel clicked his tongue. Unlike the exhausted European nations, which had already been fighting for four years, America was fresh blood newly entering the war.

It was swimming in heavy firepower and all kinds of weapons.

Yet although it was rich in weaponry, its troops fell considerably short.

The attacking soldiers advanced in utter disorder. Eitel did not know whether soldiers like these could even be called soldiers.

To him, these men were merely cannon fodder to fill the lines.

"You want to defeat us with superior numbers?"

"Then let me show you why Germany nearly steamrolled Europe twice."

On the distant battlefield, the disorganized American troops charged toward the positions along the Meuse River Line, shouting as they came.

Meanwhile, in the Allied command post, Gouraud and Berthelot both sneered as they watched the disorderly American troops on the battlefield.

Defeat Germany with troops like these alone? How could that be possible?

Beside them, Liggett looked somewhat embarrassed as he listened to the two French commanders sneer.

After all, compared with the armies of France and England, their troops really were a sorry sight.

That was why they had spared no expense in pouring shells onto the enemy for three solid hours, hoping to make the battle report look a little better.

"Hmph. I believe my soldiers will definitely take the positions along the Meuse River."

Liggett offered a quiet retort. Gouraud and Berthelot beside him said nothing in response.

On the battlefield both sides were watching, the American troops gradually approached the positions.

Seeing the positions within easy reach, with no Germans firing at them, the Americans immediately grew excited.

Together, they began sprinting toward the German positions.

Watching this unfold, Gouraud and Berthelot exchanged a peculiar look.

Beside them, Liggett's eyebrows immediately shot up. "Oh, I think the Germans really have beaten you into submission. The moment we arrive, they obediently give up their positions."

"This so-called German army is nothing but a pack of paper tigers before us."

Faced with this situation, the two French commanders were rather baffled.

"Have the Germans really withdrawn?"

"I don't believe it. They have spent so long building up the Hindenburg Line, and this is its most important sector."

As they discussed it, countless German soldiers suddenly surged into view in their positions. Guns cracked, pouring concentrated fire into the oncoming Americans.

The American troops, carried away by the prospect of victory, were instantly stunned by the attack.

Their advance abruptly stalled. The troops at the front were stopped in their tracks, falling in heaps.

The Americans behind them had no choice but to grit their teeth and keep charging as they fired.

Behind them were troops enforcing the advance, while they had already pushed deep into the ground ahead. Who knew how many casualties they would suffer before they could pull back?

As time passed, more and more American soldiers fell.

A recruit who had joined the battlefield hoping to win honors heard his comrades screaming beside him and watched the flashes from German gun muzzles. He could only lie on the ground, his body still trembling.

Smack.

A soldier who had entered camp with him fell in front of him, sending up a splash of water. Blood spurted from his mouth beneath his smoke-stained face.

"Help... help me." The soldier shakily reached out a hand, but within seconds, his eyes lost focus.

Watching a life truly slip away before his eyes, the recruit broke down.

To hell with honors. All I want now is to survive!

"Aah!!!"

With a scream, the soldier threw his rifle to the ground, clutched his head in both hands, and ran toward the rear, like a falling domino.

With this soldier's collapse, the already disorganized attack instantly turned into a rout.

After leaving behind several thousand corpses, the American troops retreated.

Watching the American defeat on the battlefield, Liggett's face turned livid. "A bunch of useless fools!"

Meanwhile, on the German defensive line.

Eitel stood before a body of troops who looked exceptionally well trained and equipped.

"Today's victory will be directed against all our enemies, and will stop only when we trample through the enemy's blood on French soil!"

"Gentlemen, we have already marched through too many campaigns. Everything here cannot simply end along the coast of Belgium!"

"I see Germany's strength in you. Victory belongs to us! You will fear nothing and never give up! Stormtroopers! We have already drawn back the curtain of hell. Now let them see who the real devils are!"

Eitel's words fell heavily upon the hearts of the Stormtroopers. Only when he finished speaking did all the Stormtroopers raise their weapons.

"Fight for His Majesty!"