Cross-Tactics

Chapter 89 Cross-Tactics

Andrei's biggest regret was sending the militia to the battlefield.

Command was completely paralyzed. There was no response from the radio regarding the militia, or perhaps they simply didn't know how to use the little black box, or maybe they were just too terrified to speak.

The real battlefield is ruthless and merciless; passion alone cannot solve any problems.

Andrei clutched his head in anguish, watching the crowd he had rushed to become cannon fodder. He was in immense pain, as if countless insects were tearing at his heart, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Where's the platoon leader? Where's the platoon leader of the second platoon of the first battalion? Can you contact the militia captain?" Andrei shouted into the radio as he retreated.

Soon, a quick, efficient voice came over.

"Unable to contact them, and we haven't seen the militia withdraw."

Andrei's hand trembled slightly. This meant the entire militia had been wiped out; not a single person had escaped. The initial heat of battle hadn't even ended, and a whole group of people had died in vain.

"What should we do? Go back and provide support?"

"Retreat," Andrei said through gritted teeth.

How can we go back to save them in this situation? On what grounds? No matter how many people we go back, they will all die.

The German army was quite powerful and its discipline was very strict. When fighting against such an army, one must not act rashly.

Fortunately, the advance was not rapid, giving Andrei an opportunity to organize a retreat to the other side of the city and then concentrate his forces for an ambush. This was his only hope; if he couldn't disrupt the enemy's formation, he would have to abandon the city and have his remaining troops move to Moscow to rejoin the main force.

But when will this constant hiding end? Andrei shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the thought.

That's not something he can think about right now. He just wants to hold off the German army as long as possible, preferably until the main force arrives, then his mission will be accomplished.

As he pondered, he began to consider the strategic deployment after moving to the east of the city.

To his dismay, there was not much open space in the east of the city, making it impossible to carry out effective strategic deployments.

When Loran found Andrei, it was almost dark.

Andrei squatted in front of an abandoned residential building in the east of the city, leaning against the wall, a lit cigarette in his hand. His overcoat was covered in ash, and his trousers were stained red with dried, dark brown blood. His face was filthy, his lips were chapped, and there were deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked down at his hands. His hands were trembling.

Loran walked over and squatted down next to him.

"Andrei".

Andrei looked up. When he saw Loran, his eyes lit up for a moment, then dimmed again.

"You didn't leave."

"They didn't leave."

Andrei held the cigarette in his mouth but didn't light it. He stared at the row of bombed-out houses across the street for a long time.

"The militia is gone," he said in a low voice. "Not a single one came out. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let them go."

Loran did not speak.

Andrei took the cigarette out of his mouth, held it between his fingers, and crushed it.

"Where is Ivankov?"

"At the command post. He said Zhukov told us to die here, even if it meant our own death."

Andrei nodded. He stood up, leaning against the wall, his legs trembling, but he stood straight. He looked westward.

There were flames, thick smoke, and the roar of tank engines. The German army was advancing, not quickly, but relentlessly. They would push through each street, stop, clear out the remaining enemy forces, and then push again. Like combing hair, they would comb it strand by strand, leaving no corner untouched.

"How many of us do we have left?" Lorraine asked.

Andrei thought for a moment. "Less than three thousand men. Ammunition is running low; we only have a dozen or so anti-tank grenades left. No artillery, no tanks, no support."

He turned around and looked at Loran.

"Tell me, how do we defend it?"

Loran stood up and looked at the row of apartment buildings across the street. The buildings weren't tall, only four stories, grayish-white, with bullet holes in the walls, broken windows—some boarded up, others dark and gaping like skull eye sockets. The buildings were very close together, some separated only by a narrow alley, so close that two people could barely walk side-by-side.

"Andrei," Loran said, "are there still people in those buildings?"

Andrei shook his head. "They all ran away long ago. They fled before the Germans arrived. Only the walls remain."

Loran stared at the buildings for a long time. He thought of the stone houses that had been bombed in North Africa, in Agaira. German tanks couldn't get into narrow alleys, and even if infantry did, they couldn't move quickly. A man hiding behind a wall could hold off a platoon. A company of men hiding in a building could hold off a battalion.

"Andrei," he said, "what if we connected all these buildings together?"

Andrei looked at him. "Connect them? How?"

"The wall. Break through the wall." Loran pointed to the two nearest buildings. "Between the first floor and the first floor, between the second floor and the second floor, between the third floor and the third floor. Break through every floor, and people can run from one building to another without going out into the streets. Tanks can't get in, and planes can't bomb them accurately. If the Germans come in, they can hide behind the wall and fight. They can shoot and run, running through the hole in the wall to another building. If they chase after them, they can run back through another hole in the wall."

He turned around and looked at Andrei.

"The entire eastern part of the city is like a fortress. Not a fortress built of stones, but a fortress where people can run. They don't know where you are, which direction you're firing from, or where your next shot will come from."

Andrei looked at him without saying a word. His eyes shone brightly in the twilight, as if he were solving a very complex math problem.

"You said to break down the wall," he said slowly. "With what?"

"Hands. With pickaxes, shovels, crowbars. With your hands."

How many people are needed?

"Count the number of people as you see fit."

Andrei fell silent. He looked at the buildings, at the dark, gaping windows, at the narrow alleyways that could only allow one person to pass at a time. He thought of the militiamen that morning, those who had run out of the trenches and never returned. They didn't know how to fight, how to dodge bullets, how to survive against tanks. They only knew how to charge forward and die. But what if they had hidden behind a wall? What if they had hidden inside a building, fired a shot through a hole in the wall, and run? Would they have survived?

They walked to the nearest apartment building. The door was open, the door panel removed and leaning against the wall. It was dark inside, with only a sliver of light filtering in from the window, illuminating the broken glass and pebbles on the floor. The staircase was still there, wooden, creaking underfoot. Andrei went up to the second floor and pushed open a door. It was a small room, about ten square meters. There was a window in the wall, facing the street. Across the street was another building, also gray and white, also dark and gloomy.

Andrei stood by the window, looking across the street.

"If we drill a hole from here," he said, "we could get to that building across the street?"

"Yes," Loran said. "It doesn't need to be big, just big enough for one person to pass through."

Andrei turned and walked out of the room. He walked to the end of the corridor, where there was a wall, and on the other side of the wall was the next room. He knocked on the wall. It was made of brick, thick, but not a load-bearing wall.

"We can drill a hole here too."

"Can."

“Lorraine,” he said, “you said to break down the wall. If you break it down, people can run around inside the building. From this building to that building, from that building to the next. The whole east side of the city will be one big house.”

"right."

"When the Germans came in, they hid behind the wall and fought. They would fire and then run. When the Germans chased after them, the soldiers had already run through the hole in the wall to another building."

"right."

"They didn't know where the person was. They didn't know which direction the shots would come from. They didn't know where the next shot would come from."

"right."

Andrei turned and looked at Loran. Something in those gray eyes changed. Not bright, but deep. Like a well that had suddenly filled with water.

"This isn't war," he said. "This is hunting. We are the hunters. They are the prey."

Loran did not speak.

Andrei looked up at the dark red sky. The wind blew from the west, cold and carrying the smell of gunpowder and burning. He took a deep breath, then turned and walked down the street. His legs had stopped trembling; he finally saw a glimmer of hope.

"Let's go," he said, "to find Ivankov."

The command post was in a partially collapsed building in the east of the city. The first floor had been bombed, but the second floor remained standing; the stairs were broken, and one had to climb up. Ivankov sat in a room on the second floor, a map spread out in front of him, covered with markings. His face was pale, his eyes were red, and he held a cigarette between his fingers; the filter had burned down to the cigarette, but he hadn't thrown it away.

Andrei went in and stood in front of him.

"Comrade Ivankov."

Ivankov looked up. When he saw Andrei, his eyes lit up.

"You're still alive."

"To live."

Ivankov looked at Andrei's leg. "Injured?"

"It's alright."

Ivankov nodded. He looked at Loran, then at Andrei.

"What is it?"

Andrei paused for a second. "We need to change our tactics."

Ivankov threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stubbed it out with his boot. "Speak."

Andrei walked to the table and pointed to the eastern part of the city on the map.

"Here. Residential buildings. One after another, the streets are very narrow, tanks can't get in. Infantry can't move fast even if they do get in."

If we connect these buildings and break through the walls, people can run inside. They can run from one building to another, and from one to the next. If the Germans come in, we'll hide behind the walls and fight. We'll shoot and run. They can't catch us.

Ivankov stared at him for a long time.

"Break down the wall?" His tone was tinged with doubt. But that doubt vanished when he saw Loran, and he waved his hand, "Do whatever you think is feasible."

Loran nodded. He knew this method was feasible because he had seen such urban warfare in historical reports. The Germans had defended Berlin this way at the end of World War II; Loran was simply bringing this tactic to the Soviet Union ahead of schedule.

Whether they can play a crucial role depends on the soldiers' familiarity with the city and their ability to flexibly apply tactics.

They climbed down the half-collapsed stairs and stood on the street. It was completely dark; there was no moon, no stars. The wind blew from the west, carrying the smell of gunpowder and burning, and it was cold. Occasionally, a few cannon shots rang out in the distance, muffled, like drums beating far away.

Andrei stood there, looking at the dark, silent buildings. Row upon row, one next to another, like a group of silent giants. He stood there for a long time, then spoke.

"Lorraine, do you think a person can break through a wall?"

"able."

"how long?"

"If everything goes smoothly, we can get through in an hour, before the Germans arrive."

Andrei nodded. He took the crushed cigarette out of his pocket, looked at it, and put it back. He turned and walked down the street. Loran followed behind. They passed the bombed-out building, walked through the narrow alley that could only accommodate one person at a time, and arrived at the square in the east of the city.

The square wasn't large, paved with stone slabs, with grass growing in the cracks. Dozens of people were already standing there.

Andrei stood in the center of the square, looking at the people.

"Comrades," he said, his voice hoarse but steady, "the Germans will be here soon. They'll come from the west of the city, tanks leading the way, infantry following. They'll push through street by street, clear building by building. They think we'll run. But we won't run."

He looked at the faces of those people.

"We must fight, and we must launch a fierce counterattack."

He paused.

"But to do all this, we need to do one thing first."

He pointed to the nearest building.

"Break through the wall. Break through the wall. Between the first floor and the first floor, between the second floor and the second floor, between the third floor and the third floor. Make a hole in each floor, big enough for a person to pass through. Connect this building to that building, and that building to the next one. The entire eastern part of the city will be a fortress."

Someone raised their hand. It was a young soldier with a round face and big eyes.

"Captain, even if we break through the wall, won't the Germans still be able to get through through the tunnel?"

Andrei looked at him. "But the tanks can't get through. We have a huge advantage in individual combat because we are familiar with the city's layout, while they are not. That's our tactic. If there are no other objections, then let's make the most of our time and start now."

After he finished speaking, he glanced at Loran, and the two of them went to a wall.

Andrei stood in front of the wall and tapped it with his hand. The bricks sounded crisp and hollow. It wasn't a load-bearing wall, just an ordinary partition wall, one brick thick, the mortar long since crumbled after a few years. He tapped it three times, and the joints between the bricks cracked.

"Break it open?" he asked without turning around.

"Break it open," Loran said.

Andrei turned around, glanced at Loran, then picked up a pickaxe from the ground and smashed it down. The pickaxe tip embedded itself in the brickwork, the mortar crumbled into powder, and the brick loosened. He pried it open, and the entire brick fell to the ground with a thud. A hole. Less than a minute had passed.

He handed the pickaxe to Loran. "Simple."

Loran took the pickaxe and smashed down a brick. Another one. Another one. In a few minutes, the hole in the wall was big enough for a person to pass through.

Andrei squatted down, looked at the size of the hole, and nodded. He stood up and dusted off his hands.

"Loran, you said you wanted to connect the entire city."

"right."

"How many holes?"

"Several hundred."

Andrei pointed out that a few hundred holes would be enough to catch the German army off guard.