Capítulo 1368: Chapter 660: Look, the Sun Is Setting

The morning fog in Belfast was mixed with the smell of gunpowder.

The advance units of the Third Parachute Brigade were pushing north along the M1 Highway.

The tracks of the “Challenger” tanks rolled over the wet road surface, flinging mud from between the track teeth onto the roadside signs, smearing the words “12 miles to Belfast City Center” into a blurry brown.

There might be shit on it too.

“Stay alert, increase spacing between units to 50 meters.”

The voice of Colonel Hawkins, the brigade commander, came through the radio to each vehicle.

Suddenly, a flash of light reflected off the roof of an abandoned textile factory 300 meters ahead.

“RPG!” Gunner Miller’s shout hadn’t hit the ground when a rocket, with a gray-white trail, had already shot towards them.

“Clang——”

The reactive armor of the tank exploded into a ball of orange-red fire, and the shockwave violently rocked the vehicle. Miller’s forehead hit the sight, instantly seeping blood, leaving him dizzy.

Before he could recover, dozens of figures suddenly emerged from the ditches on either side of the highway.

They wore oil-stained overalls, faces smeared with coal dust, as they fired AK-47s, bullets ricocheting off the tank armor. More frightening were the young men with anti-tank rocket launchers, who didn’t even hide, standing in the middle of the road aiming at the track links, as if performing a death ritual.

“Left side! They’re trying to blow the tracks!” The tank commander yelled while pulling the control lever. The tank’s gun barrel quickly turned, a high-explosive bomb collapsing half of the factory building, muffled sounds coming from the debris, but more figures emerged from the ruins.

A “Warrior” infantry fighting vehicle tried to speed through the ambush zone but was ensnared by steel cables dropped from the overpass. Before the crew could jump out, three figures wrapped in fire blankets rolled under the vehicle with explosive packs, the fuses sizzling in the morning fog.

“No——!” Before the infantry fighting vehicle commander could push open the hatch, a fierce explosion lifted the vehicle off the ground, parts and body fragments pelting the highway like raindrops. The three young men’s silhouettes were frozen in the flames as black shadows, and then ripped apart by the shockwave.

Colonel Hawkins watched the steadily blinking red coordinates on the radio, his teeth grinding.

These resisters didn’t care about casualties. They attacked the steel torrent in the most primitive way—someone rode motorcycles towards the tank tracks, the passenger tossing Molotov cocktails into the engine compartment; some lay in the highway ditches, using explosive packs to blast craters in the road to trap the tanks; even an old woman rushed out from the ruins, clutching bundled Hand Grenades. She was gunned down ten meters from the tank, the grenades rolling next to the tracks, detonating with a dull boom.

Modern warfare…

Still the old saying, even a dog with a bomb can kill dozens of people.

“Stop the advance! Build a circular defense!”

Hawkins finally ordered, watching the figures fall on either side of the highway. He suddenly thought of his grandfather’s stories about the Dunkirk retreat.

Back then, the German Army had likewise delayed mechanized units with light weapons.

As the sun rose overhead, the advance units had only made it 3 miles, the highway littered with burning vehicle wrecks and roadblocks.

The resisters retreated like a tide into the outskirts of the city, leaving behind only bullet-riddled streets and the casualty list Hawkins held: 27 dead, 11 vehicles damaged, ammunition consumption exceeding the expected 40%…

The coffee at 10 Downing Street wasn’t yet brewed when Sir Davidson, the Minister of Defense, barged into the Prime Minister’s office with the report, dark circles under his eyes deeper than the color of his tie, the numbers on the report glaringly red.

“Prime Minister, we can’t hold on.” Davidson slammed the report on the table. “The Third Parachute Brigade’s ammunition reserve is down to 30%, and the 120mm shells for the ‘Challenger’ tanks need to be transported from German warehouses, the transport cost alone is 8 million British Pounds. And the repair of those damaged vehicles will cost at least 12 million—”

“More money again?” The Prime Minister’s fingers dug deep into his temples, the funds from mortgaged assets disappearing like water three days prior. “I only just approved funding for the Royal Navy’s escort expenses, the Treasury Department’s account is already depleted.”

“The front line is bleeding!” Davidson raised his voice.

“Colonel Hawkins’s telegram reported that the resisters had dug tunnels in the residential areas; they suddenly emerged from sewers to attack patrols. Yesterday, a squad of soldiers was trapped in a supermarket, surviving on canned food and bottled water for 12 hours. We need more night vision goggles, bulletproof vests, and tear gas for clearing operations, all of which require funds!”

The Prime Minister stared at the gloomy rain outside the window, the spires of London Financial City looming faintly in the fog. The capital tycoons who purchased UK assets were sipping champagne in their offices, while he fretted over funding for tear gas.

“Go talk to Silver Wing Capital and Equatorial Trade.” The Prime Minister’s voice suddenly turned hoarse. “Tell them I can transfer another 5% of Scottish Power Company’s shares, and have them send over 20 million immediately.”

Davidson was stunned: “That’s the core asset of the national grid—”

“I have no choice.” The Prime Minister interrupted him. “If the Belfast garrison collapses, the entire Northern Ireland will be out of control, and what we lose then won’t just be the power company.”

The Prime Minister’s fingertip lingered on the Scottish Power Company share documents for a full half-minute, the paper’s edge creased by his unconscious grip. Outside, the rain streaked the glass diagonally, blurring the spires of London Financial City into a gray haze, mirroring his muddled state of mind at that moment.