Chapter 533: They Have at Least Ten Artillery Regiments
Namur, Belgium.
This is a city with a population of several hundred thousand, and its architectural style differs slightly from other Belgian cities—it resembles Florence in Italy more than Brussels.
However, despite its many charming bridges, canals, and castles, Namur has long suffered the ravages of war due to its strategic location.
(On the map: Namur's architecture)
On this particular day, Namur woke up as it always did, to morning mist and the chimes of church bells.
As the streets paved with stone gradually filled with pedestrians, a squad of heavily armed German patrol troops passed by with tired bodies and irregular steps. Passersby quickly moved aside, bicycles came to a halt, and wary, fearful gazes followed the soldiers.
Only when the patrol had moved on did the people breathe a sigh of relief and resume their activities.
They greeted each other with smiles, but observant onlookers could still catch fleeting traces of disappointment in their eyes and gestures.
They were disappointed because the flames of war had not yet reached Namur.
When news arrived that Charles' troops were preparing to launch an assault on Namur, the people appeared calm on the surface, but secretly the news spread like wildfire:
"Did you hear? Charles' army is about to arrive here!"
"Are you sure? Is it really Charles' forces?"
"Yes, absolutely. Everyone in Paris is talking about it—it's Charles' troops!"
"That's wonderful. We're going to be liberated soon!"
…
To the people of Belgium—in fact, to people all over the world—wherever Charles pointed his finger, freedom followed.
But they rejoiced too soon.
A few days later, a new piece of news crushed their hope:
"They say Namur is unsuitable for an assault by Charles' troops."
"Yes, I heard it too. It's a trap set specifically for Charles."
"They're trying to use Namur to kill Charles and his men."
…
This plunged the residents of Namur into a deep despair.
If Namur could be used as a trap to kill Charles, one could imagine just how difficult it would be to retake it.
It also meant that the liberation of Namur was still far away—even Charles might be powerless to change that.
…
And it wasn't just the Belgians who thought this way. The German soldiers stationed outside the city, in the "Meander District," also believed the same.
The Germans had deployed two infantry divisions and one tank division here, bolstered by six artillery regiments—a formidable force.
Their commanding officer was Nicolas, who had just been promoted to lieutenant general. He served simultaneously as commander of the 21st Corps and of the 1st Tank Division.
Upon taking command, General Nicolas immediately promoted Erwin from captain to lieutenant colonel in recognition of his outstanding performance. Erwin had become his most trusted advisor.
…
General Nicolas set up his command post in a forest in the Meander District. It was a standard half-buried bunker, offering a clear view through observation windows of the artillery deployed in the Meander and the roads across the river.
It was the safest location—nearly impossible for the enemy to cross that natural moat.
"We can't let them pull out more troops!" Erwin said anxiously, watching the growing number of flags being removed from the map, each representing withdrawn forces.
Since the Battle of the Somme had started, half of Namur's troops had already been transferred out. Only one infantry division, another infantry regiment, two tank regiments, and three artillery regiments remained.
"Relax, Lieutenant Colonel." General Nicolas replied calmly, his gaze drifting beyond the observation window toward the Meuse River flowing gently through the morning mist.
It reminded him of the river near his hometown. He wondered if these waters would eventually flow back there.
"This is extremely dangerous for us, General," Erwin complained. "Especially since we only have three artillery regiments left. We need to use these guns to seal off two roads, coordinate with the defensive lines, and many of our shells have been taken away as well."
General Nicolas turned to him with a leisurely expression and said:
"As senior officers, we must look at the broader picture, Lieutenant Colonel."
"You know what I mean, General. The French are unlikely to launch an attack on Namur, but the Somme is currently being battered by nearly a million enemy troops."
"Clearly, they need artillery and soldiers more than we do."
Erwin shook his head in disagreement. "I understand, General. But I believe Charles will attack Namur!"
"Why?" General Nicolas raised an eyebrow.
Erwin hesitated, then shook his head again. "No specific reason, General. It's just a gut feeling."
Then he added, "If I must offer one, it's that Charles always acts unexpectedly. Just when everyone assumes he won't attack, that's exactly when he does."
General Nicolas laughed and offered him a cigarette. "I can't use reasoning like that to convince Falkenhayn."
Erwin accepted the cigarette in silence and struck a match to light them both. Though he accepted the general's words, the worry on his face didn't ease one bit.
As he smoked, his eyes returned to the map.
If Charles really were to attack Namur, his first move would likely be to destroy the artillery in the Meander.
Could Charles do it?
Under normal circumstances, it was impossible. The French didn't have any artillery with a range greater than the 105mm howitzer. Moreover, the Germans were well-prepared to deploy smoke screens, making them immune to French bombers.
Still, Charles would have to find a way. Without neutralizing those artillery positions, any assault on the Namur fortress would be doomed from the start.
So Erwin knew he had to focus on what to do if their artillery were destroyed or suppressed—how to hold the line under those conditions.
Suddenly, from across the Meuse River came a series of "whoosh whoosh whoosh" sounds.
Erwin and General Nicolas jumped toward the observation window like they'd been jabbed with needles, both raising their binoculars in unison, scanning the direction the noise had come from.
They saw volleys of projectiles flying toward the Meander District, each trailing a long tail of smoke.
They weren't shells—they were rockets. Only rockets left such clear trails.
"Artillery barrage!" General Nicolas shouted.
Erwin ran back to the desk and grabbed the phone. "Counterattack! Organize a counterattack immediately!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Boom! Boom!
…
The earth trembled as rockets rained down in rows over the Meander District. In an instant, the entire area was consumed by smoke and fire, as if the ground itself had caught fire. Trees were flattened, dirt flung high into the air, and the artillery hidden in bunkers devastated.
The whooshing sounds in the sky didn't stop, nor did the explosions—they came one after another in a relentless chain.
"God—they have at least ten artillery regiments!" General Nicolas gasped in horror. As an artilleryman himself, he instantly recognized the intensity of the bombardment.
But his mind remained in a haze, unable to process what had just happened.
How had such a vast artillery force managed to avoid detection by the front-line scouts?
And how could they be so close? The straight-line distance was probably less than eight kilometers!
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