OR1-EP5: Hymn of the Bridge (4)

Before the outbreak of the war, McNeil had envisioned the conditions under which he would become involved in, or even take part in, a massacre, but for the life of him, he had never imagined that he would witness the atrocities committed by the Defense Forces against the African Britannian civilian population of Rhodesia so soon. With a command from Colonel Duttmann, the soldiers charged aggressively towards the interior of the town, intent on wiping out all of these disorganized people that they had already labeled as the enemy. The townspeople who were still resisting just now shot at these soldiers from inside the buildings, the gap in weaponry between the two sides caused them to be quickly suppressed by the army, and the infantry regiment's vanguard drove into the fringes of the town unimpeded.

The African colonial villages and towns established by the EU had previously been frontline strongholds created by the colonists after pioneering the land and directly confronted with the pressure of the indigenous armies, most of the towns were built with defenses, civilians were allowed to bear arms for their own safety, and Governor-general Herzog's order of a short while ago to collect the weapons of the armed northern militias had not been implemented in many places. If the battle that had taken place on the side of the road could be explained by a misunderstanding, McNeil knew that the townspeople had regarded the defense forces from the south as the enemy from the start when he saw that almost all of the buildings on the street in front of him were manned by militia.

"We can't die at their hands." McNeil said to his companions, "We're going to take this town with the minimum of fuss."

He ducked around the corner and watched the other soldiers nearby who were fighting the militia with the help of cover. The militiamen, who overlooked the entire street, were able to easily detect enemy movements, and if not for the fact that the Defense Force's weapons were far superior to these old models that had been obsolete for years, they would have been beaten by the militiamen at the intersection of the street, cowering behind their bunkers. The group of soldiers, a dozen or so in number, under the command of their leader, fired a mortar shell at one of the buildings, which burrowed through the roof and into the interior, blasting the three militiamen ambushed on the top floor to pieces on the spot, with one of them falling straight out of the window and falling to pieces in the street. The soldiers who had just eliminated the enemy in front of them were about to move on when they were knocked back by the enemy in the other direction. From their point of view, the direction the enemy was in was dead center, and they couldn't accurately determine where the militia was.

"Come with me...4 men will be enough." McNeil gestured toward his comrades in the rear, and the four black soldiers quickly followed in his footsteps. They advanced along the other side of the street, keeping close to the buildings to avoid being attacked by the militia above them, and thus unhurriedly left the friendly-controlled neighborhood and broke into the enemy's heartland. Fierce engagements took place all over the town, with the sound of gunfire and screams being the only view of the town. McNeil wondered why these townspeople had decided to resist the defense forces; they had undoubtedly chosen a path of no return. As McNeil was pondering this question, a militiaman suddenly emerged from a store on the side of the cold, raised his gun and was about to open fire towards McNeil. The black soldier closest to McNeil immediately pounced on him, wrestled the militiaman to the ground, and the two struggled together. McNeil calmly drew his dagger and slashed the militiaman's life from the back.

"Well done." McNeil picked up the soldier, "What is your name? I am McNeil of England."

"Dumiso Tutu." The black soldier replied shyly, "I actually used to live in Rhodesia before moving to the south after I was ten."

"Good." McNeil patted the other man on the shoulder, then realizing that he himself was not currently an officer, but just a common soldier, he smoothly withdrew that hand and awkwardly touched the top of his still-bald head. The crowd rushed into the store, nervously watching every corner for fear of any suspicious militia still hiding somewhere. These locals would make good use of any conditions against them, and no one could afford to let their guard down.

Michael McNeil stepped around the cash register and headed for the back shelves. Most of the shelves were empty, with only a few of the always-lagging products still on them. He picked up a box of canned goods, looked at the date of manufacture on it, and then looked at a few of the canned good's packages next to it one after the other, and inwardly came to a conclusion. The town had been cut off from the outside world, though he wasn't sure if it was a military blockade or their own choice, in any case the local townspeople were bound to face a drastic depletion of supplies. Judging by the production dates of the other foodstuffs, the town had stopped stocking up long before the war had started, and it was probably then that they had decided to build the town into a fortress out of fear for the future - so would the African Britannians, or the rebels, be able to get through here?

He handed the can to the soldier who was searching the goods immediately behind him.

"Have a taste?"

"Maybe it's expired."

The group continued to search the shelves and found a shivering clerk in one corner. When the other soldiers were unimpressed by this and intended to search elsewhere for something of value, the clerk suddenly pulled out a pistol and shot the soldiers across the shelves. He wasn't a very good shot, and the bullets were stopped by the shelves, and no one was hit. McNeil, who was as far as two shelves away from the clerk, immediately flanked him, kicked the gun out of the clerk's hand, and pinned him right to the ground. The soldiers, who had been robbed of their lives, became furious and rushed up together to punch and kick the store clerk, cursing uncontrollably under their breath:

"Bastard! What a waste for your white skin ..."

That sounded like cursing white people no matter how you looked at it, but McNeil didn't think they were deliberately insulting anyone or taking it personally. The anger within blacks of indigenous descent had been buried for centuries, and if they weren't given a chance to vent it, they would one day turn that fire on EU themselves. Currently, a significant portion of this group of law-abiding citizens consider themselves part of the EU and are willing to serve it, and as long as those legislators provide them with token opportunities, they are as docile as the dogs that return to their masters with a dish in their mouths. It's sad and realistic, they can't find any other path, are they going to defect to the Britannian Empire?

The soldiers escorted the shopkeepers out of the store, they stuffed large bags of merchandise haphazardly into their backpacks, maybe the food would save their lives later in an emergency. McNeil didn't take anything; he didn't want to add extra burdens on himself. The group had just walked out of the store when they encountered Lt. Heinz Meyer, who had led another group of soldiers into the neighborhood, and the soldiers behind the lieutenant looked like they had gotten a good haul, perhaps they had also just taken advantage of the soldiers-only zero-euro special events.

"Geez, what are you guys dragging this thing out for?" Lt. Meyer looked in disgust at the clerk who had collapsed on the pavement after being pulled out by McNeil, who drew his pistol and dryly rewarded the clerk with a bullet.

Michael McNeil watched Lt. Meyer take his pistol back before speaking, "We can't tell the difference between civilians and the enemy right now, anyone could be the enemy. With this trend, it seems to be a bit difficult for our troops to capture the town and rest here before nightfall."

"The Colonel thinks an indiscriminate attack is possible." Lieutenant Meyer looked across the street at the area where the firefight was taking place, where about a company of soldiers were laying siege to a large mansion, "We can't risk the lives of our soldiers, McNeil."

"That being said, they will after all become citizens of our country again when the war is over." Seeing that Lieutenant Meyer was planning to leave, McNeil hurried to follow closely, "We should still show mercy."

"As long as they're all dead, no one will know what we did." Lieutenant Meyer said this without changing his face, causing McNeil to be inwardly shocked. If every African Britannian could become an enemy soldier who took up arms against the EU, then they would have no choice but to wipe out the community completely. Had Governor-general Jacob Herzog considered this? Perhaps he finally made up his mind to get rid of all his entanglements with the African Britannians after much pain and suffering.

Lieutenant Heinz Meyer and his subordinates disappeared at the end of the street, and McNeil sighed helplessly as he looked at the joyous soldiers.

"I thought we were out for a public robbery." He said to himself.

In the other street behind the store, the battle was more intense. Relying on the intricate complex of buildings, the townspeople introduced the Defense Force soldiers into the traps they had prepared, and then began to close the door on them. In order to rescue his friends from the trap, Adalbert ordered the defense forces from the nearby streets to blow through the walls of the buildings and come to his aid. At this point, Adalbert Herzog was approached with the idea of using this opportunity to plant a bomb underneath a large building where the townspeople were stationed and then detonate it. Adalbert gladly accepted the idea and ordered the death squads to launch an assault on the first-floor lobby where the militia was entrenched. The townspeople fought the defenders in the hall, and each side suffered casualties, with the battle not going in favor of the defenders. Half an hour after the battle started, the defense force reinforcements arrived, rockets and grenades together to the militia armed, militia armed was blown to the ground, the townspeople were forced to give up their positions and retreat upwards with heavy losses, the defense force temporarily controlled the hall. According to the plan that had just been made, Adalbert ordered the soldiers not to attack upwards rashly, and instead had the soldiers install bombs on the load-bearing walls. When all the preparations were complete, the defense forces withdrew from the nearby blocks and then detonated the bombs. The entire building collapsed with a deafening explosion, tilting to the right, and striking other buildings on the other side of the street, creating a strange arch in mid-air.

Some of the militias were still trapped inside the mid-air building, and rather than surrender, they continued to fire at the defense forces. However, the situation was very unfavorable for the militia, as they themselves were being attacked from both sides, and the structure of the building in the air was already very fragile and could collapse twice at any time. In order to end the battle more quickly, Colonel Duttmann decided to mobilize a heavy artillery bombardment of the vulnerable areas of the building, a measure that would effectively eliminate any remaining enemy resistance. Ten minutes later, the building was blown through the center and split into two pieces that fell toward the street, becoming a ruin blocking it. The militiamen still remaining inside the building had probably been buried by the rubble, and there was categorically no hope for them to leave the area alive.

At the same time, another part of the soldiers went to look for possible ammunition depots or arsenals under the orders of their superiors. Since these townspeople were prepared to fight a protracted war, they must have stockpiled a large number of weapons and ammunition within the town. These men would not have had the guts to stand against the regular army if they had relied solely on the assistance of the rebels (if they were indeed in contact with them) or if they had followed the rebels' instructions exclusively. At the time this order was received, McNeil was searching a private house with several other soldiers, which no longer had any inhabitants and had a thick layer of dust piled up on the floor.

McNeil had been backstabbed several times before, and he was worried about trick mines or other traps in the place. Therefore, he asked the other soldiers to wait outside, and he entered the house alone to conduct a cursory search, and only after determining that there were no traps, did he feel comfortable and bold enough to allow his teammates to enter the room. The interior of the room was quite empty, and the owner of the house had probably taken all the articles he could carry away.

"They may have decided to centralize the residents." McNeil opened the cabinet in the living room, which was empty, "It's easier to manage and the invaders won't have a chance to hold the other militia hostage after capturing the civilians."

"It's hard to imagine them following orders." Someone in the back said, "I thought they never wanted to act collectively."

"Those who want to stay alive know what to do when collective action is the only option." McNeil walked into the kitchen, again not seeing any of the items that had been left behind. It was almost as if these guys had fled, leaving nothing behind for the defense forces or other EU citizens in the south that they saw as their enemies. Perhaps it was the propaganda of the African Britannians that made these people insane to such an extent, or perhaps it was the usual brutal style of the defense forces. As McNeil disappointedly intended to exit the house, he found some breadcrumbs in the corner.

"McNeil, let's get out, there's nothing to find here."

McNeil signaled his comrades to be quiet as he tiptoed over to the corner and picked up the bread crumbs. The crumbs were not thoroughly dry and were even a little soft to the touch. He skimmed them off and wandered around the room with the kind of couldn't-care-less look that made even the soldiers who had come to urge them on feel a little impatient. Just when these people were already planning to leave on their own, McNeil suddenly knocked on the wooden floor with his military boots, and the floor made a hollow ringing sound. The people snapped their heads back and looked at each other, all seeing a hungry wolf-like gaze in the other's eyes.

"What's going on?" Some of the latter guys didn't understand what was happening.

"Don't talk." McNeil raised his right hand again. The amplitude of his movements was not exaggerated, nor were there any rather symbolic auxiliaries of tone, but everyone unanimously decided to follow his command. The young soldier crouched down on the floor and tapped the ground with his left hand, while once again stepping repeatedly on certain spots with his boots. Finally, he took the submachine gun from his companion and strafed the floor as a surprising series of shrieks came from below, with the voices of men, women, and children mingling together in a way that wasn't quite audible.

"Ahahaha, the rats turned out to be hiding here." The crowd was overjoyed and rushed to assist McNeil in finding the entrance to this basement. After some carpet searches, they found a secret door in the bedroom, and sent a few of the strongest soldiers among them to be the first to go down and explore, lest they be backstabbed by any traps that might exist. Michael McNeil was the first to rush into the basement, where he saw dozens of civilians hiding and shivering in the corners, and in the center of the open space left open lay an elderly man, who had already been shot to death, obviously killed by McNeil's indiscriminate shooting earlier.

Michael McNeil walked over to the old man who had fallen in a pool of blood and drew a cross. He turned his head to look at the fearful civilians and spoke:

"We are the National Defense Force and have come to liberate you from the Brittany rebels. Now you are safe."

He knew that these people were hiding precisely from them. The African Britannian civilians had hatred in their eyes; they were simply afraid of the rifles in McNeil's hands. Had the situation been reversed, even their dogs would have run over and cursed McNeil - if dogs could talk.

The other soldiers surrounded the civilians and searched the basement. They were pleasantly surprised to find a large amount of food that had been stockpiled there, and it appeared that they would not have to consume field rations. The men conferred and decided to tell Lieutenant Meyer the good news and let the platoon leader decide where the food would go. A tall Negro soldier took a bag of bread from the corner where the grain was being hoarded, and immediately someone came up to stop him:

"What are we going to eat-"

Without answering, the soldier swung the rifle in his hand and the butt of the rifle hit the man hard on the head. The civilian fell to the ground on the spot, bleeding from the mouth and nose, looking badly hurt. Another white soldier passed by him, saw the man lying on the ground gasping for air, and without hesitation kicked towards him before taking off with the rations he had taken. They were about to leave the basement when they realized that McNeil, who had been the first to enter the basement, had stopped at the door at some point.

"Put everything back." He gazed coldly at the soldiers, "Don't make me repeat it."

The atmosphere was a bit awkward for a moment, and the other soldiers who didn't intend to go along with the situation huddled at the exit and watched the situation unfold. The soldiers, who seemed to be treating the march as a robbery, didn't pay any attention to McNeil, but McNeil quickly turned his gun on them with a hint of menace in his tone:

"These things now belong to the Defense Force, and soldiers who misappropriate military supplies on the battlefield without authorization will be executed."

Lieutenant Heinz Meyer, who had arrived at the news, duly appeared and kindly took hold of McNeil's gun from behind, demanding that everyone put their guns down. McNeil saluted his officer and explained what had just happened. The Lieutenant listened to the report absentmindedly, his eyes focused on the piles of grain behind the civilians.

"Does this basement have access to any other basements?" Lieutenant Meyer inquired, "I can't believe they would decide to seal themselves off in a place like this. In case of an accident, they wouldn't even have a chance to escape."

"Perhaps other secret passages exist and we are looking for them." McNeil stopped in front of the lieutenant, "Sir, these civilians ..."

"We can't afford to feed that many." Lt. Meyer said disdainfully, "They chose to make enemies of us, we'll spare their lives, but they should be charged a small protection fee."

Lt. Meyer ordered all the food to be carried out and left the rest of the problem to Colonel Duttmann. By this time the Colonel was being accompanied by Gene Smilas on a tour of the recently captured Town Hall, perhaps one of the most imposing buildings within the entire town, the defense forces having dropped dozens of bodies to snatch the building into their hands. The Colonel sat jovially in the town mayor's office, announcing that he would be using it as a temporary command post for the time being.

"Colonel, Major Herzog-"

"Let him in!" Colonel Duttmann had a compressed cracker in his mouth and was opening the canteen he carried with him. Adalbert Herzog entered the office with a square step, saluted the regimental commander, and then informed the colonel of the latest battle situation. In addition, he mentioned that a number of civilians who had not joined the rebels were hiding in various parts of the town, and that these people shouldn't be seen as enemy soldiers. The colonel finished his dinner under the gaze of a dozen pairs of eyes, and then slurred his words:

"But we have to consider our own consumption as well." The colonel wiped his mouth, "Friendly forces have failed in their duty, forcing us to stay where we are and wait for them ... General Headquarters probably won't make a point of making up for our losses over this. Besides, if the rebels mobilize or hold citizens hostage to join the fight on a wide scale, we can't be considered to be in the vicinity for more than an inch."

Major Herzog looked at his wooden-faced colleagues and gave everyone a poor rating.

"In that way, when we kill one militia member, we give the enemy one more militia member - and their families will hate us."

"This regiment has already lost close to a hundred men today, and if any militia we face will be so tenacious, I can't think of any excuse that would allow us to show mercy." The Colonel sternly countered Adalbert's remarks, "In any case, the civilians of Rhodesia will not assist us, sooner or later they will become accomplices to the rebels, so let's squeeze them of all their resources before they have the ability to rebel."

"Our army is not a nomadic tribe-"

"Dismissed, pending new orders from the Oberkommando tomorrow." Colonel Duttmann gave his expulsion order, and Adalbert exited the mayor's office in exasperation.

The Europa National Defense Army was currently organized as an eight-company standard regiment, and the loss of almost an entire company was an unacceptable defeat for Duttmann (despite his complete victory in the skirmish). The senior officers of the regiment rested at the town hall, while the other soldiers seized separate civilian houses within the town.

It was well into the middle of the night, and McNeil could faintly hear cries coming from the neighborhood.

"It's noisy." The other soldiers beside him complained in dissatisfaction.

"Hurry up and sleep, don't think so much." McNeil rolled over, banishing the ghosts of the septuagenarians from his mind.

Not everyone agreed with his approach. The three soldiers angrily picked up their rifles and searched the area, following the sounds, finding the two girls in the adjoining house. The group fired dozens of shots indiscriminately, leaving two cold corpses behind, and went back to bed satisfied.

TBC

Chapter Notes:

We still cannot pinpoint which of the two sides is defending natural human rights.

Where there is war there must be war crimes.