Chapter 216: Preparation and Carnage

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Early in the morning, an infantry patrol squad from the German Army’s southern border defense force on the Eastern Front discovered something that made their brains freeze. They found that the Soviet troops on the other side of the river were preparing to attack.

Yes, they had discovered it… In fact, such a meticulous offensive plan should not have been so easily discovered by the other side in advance. But as it happened, the patrolling German infantry discovered the Soviets’ offensive intentions because these preparations were as obvious as if they were filming a movie.

The Soviet troops on the other side were messily distributing ammunition, setting up their cannons under some trees, and of course, more soldiers were cooking breakfast. In the Germans’ eyes, these were all things that should have been done secretly the night before, but the Soviets were laying them all out in the open in the morning and doing them without a second thought.

“Call Army Group headquarters and report the situation we’ve found here!” a division commander ordered immediately after receiving the report. “Have the nearby StuG IIIs enter their defensive positions. Notify the air force to conduct aerial reconnaissance.”

“Consult with Army Group headquarters and ask for armored forces to support us! The reconnaissance troops have confirmed that the enemy is assembling tanks. I’m afraid the assault guns and anti-tank guns won’t be able to stop them,” a staff officer added.

The commander of this border defense division slammed his fist on the table in annoyance. “Are the Soviets insane? Attacking at a time like this? Is this a drill? Couldn’t they just have a nice afternoon tea? Are they madmen? Bastards!”

Cursing could not change the facts. Seeing that the Soviet troops opposite were becoming more and more belligerent, the German army could no longer afford to be perfunctory. The ammunition stored in the field depots was distributed to the soldiers. But compared to the noisy Soviets, the German side was much more orderly.

The German army quickly entered its frontline defensive positions. Machine guns were set up in concealed locations, anti-tank guns were placed in the bushes, and the Polish fortifications near several bridges were reinforced. The pre-dug V-shaped anti-blast trenches were filled with German soldiers holding rifles.

These soldiers all had net-like textiles, similar to gauze, covering their steel helmets. These were new-style helmet covers that had been shipped from Germany in the last few days, used to attach camouflage to the helmets and to prevent them from reflecting light. They seemed to be very effective. Now, these German soldiers only exposed their heads, and with the branches and weeds on the outside of their helmets, they blended in perfectly with the surrounding wilderness.

A sniper had found his ideal firing position under a large tree on a high ground not far away. His spotter was leaning against the large tree, from time to time observing the open areas on both sides with his binoculars. Beside this spotter was a box of rifle-caliber ammunition.

The sniper opened his wind gauge, looked at it carefully, and then began to cautiously adjust the scope on his sniper rifle, bit by bit. His face was painted with black greasepaint, and he was wearing a camouflage suit with strips of cloth sewn on it, making him look like a pile of rubble leaning against the large tree.

Once again, as he slowly adjusted his aim, he murmured softly, “I pray to you, God. In your mercy, please take this suffering from me. You have sent the great Führer to our side, let us be invincible forever… I will help you save the world’s people, and send their lives back into your embrace—if your embrace also includes hell, that is! Amen.”

“Can’t you come up with some new lines?” his spotter, leaning against the large tree, quipped.

Ignoring his chattering spotter, his movements were so practiced, as if they had been rehearsed countless times. The old sniper continued to mutter the phrases he seemed never to change in his life, looking through his scope toward the other side of the river.

Behind the sniper, about five kilometers away, on a relatively flat small hill, dozens of German soldiers were using jacks and other tools to fix several Friedrich rocket launchers in place. This was a rocket launcher unit directly under the command of the corps. Because of its good mobility and fierce firepower, it was the first choice for mobile artillery support.

“Have the firing angles been selected?” an officer on the hillside asked his adjutant, who was reporting to him.

The adjutant stood at attention, saluted, and replied, “Sir! All preparations are complete. A few days before the Soviets arrived, we had already mapped the nearby military area, accurate down to the meter.”

As he spoke, the ten rocket launch vehicles over there had already begun to adjust the angle of their rear launch rails. The friction of the machinery made a piercing sound, but this was a symphony of civilization and technology. Although it was sharp, it was very pleasant to the ear—at least for their own side, it was very pleasant.

And a few dozen kilometers behind this artillery position, on a huge grassy field, the propellers of two Fw-190D fighters with bright yellow noses were spinning rapidly. These two fighters were carrying wing bombs and drop tanks, looking as if they were about to carry out a complex mission. And to the side, there were even more planes.

“Eagle 1 is ready! Cleared for takeoff!” a German pilot with an oxygen mask in the cockpit called the ground control tower. “I have been ordered to proceed to the area where combat may occur, to drive away Soviet aircraft and bomb valuable ground targets.”

“Eagle 2 is ready! Mission is the same as the lead plane. Over,” his wingman also said into the intercom.

The voice from the tower came through the headset. “This mission is not to cross the temporary border line first. Before the other side opens fire, please maintain restraint. Do you understand?”

“Eagle 1 understands!” “Eagle 2, as you command!” two clear replies came back. And behind these two replies, many more followed. “Eagle 3 understands!” “Eagle 4 is ready!” “Eagle 15, as you command.”

“You are cleared for takeoff!” the commander at the tower commanded loudly. On the runway not far away, twenty fighter planes took off in sequence, forming a massive flight formation in the sky above the airfield.

“Squadron Leader, are the Soviets insane?” a pilot joked in the intercom. “They couldn’t beat the Poles, and now they want to try and get even with us?”

“Shut up! Do not underestimate any enemy!” a heavy voice came from the lead plane’s intercom. “Be careful in a bit! I don’t want to lose a single plane here! Heil Führer! Into the clouds!”

“As you command! Heil Führer!” all the pilots in the planes replied.

“Comrades! Attention! The Comrade Commissar will now address you!” a regimental commander said, standing at attention and making way for a political officer.

“The motherland needs you, comrades! Ahead are the evil Germans! They have once expelled our comrades and slaughtered our best friends! Now is the time to pay the blood debt! We will use our own hands to avenge our comrades!” the commissar shouted. “Everyone received enough food this morning, right? Then, the attack begins!”

“Fire!” On the artillery position, an officer waved a small flag, and a Soviet 152mm howitzer fired with a “boom.” A Red Army division commander standing in a nearby command post glanced at the commissar beside him and suddenly had the inexplicable feeling that he had just poked a hornet’s nest.

A 152mm howitzer shell hit the center of the small town where the Germans were stationed. A two-story wooden building was destroyed by the shell, leaving a huge crater on the ground. Then, the sound of explosions continued, as if the Soviet shells were all aimed at this small town.

In the German frontline command post, about a few hundred meters from the small town, a staff officer walked up to a major general with a telegram. “General! A message from the Wehrmacht High Command. The Führer orders: Counter-attack!”

The major general lowered the binoculars in his hand and commanded the walkie-talkie operator beside him, “Heil Führer! All forces, counter-attack! Give them hell.”

Just a few minutes after the first shell was fired, the Soviet starting positions bloomed. The Friedrich rocket launchers had covered the slowly moving Soviet infantry on the flat ground in an instant.

It was as if a fertile field planted with rice had instantly been transformed into the desolate surface of the moon. The destructive power of the Friedrich rocket launcher against unprepared infantry was proven once again. This one salvo had destroyed the Soviet artillery positions and had wiped out half their infantry.

However, the Soviets’ nightmare was far from over. Following the Friedrich rocket launchers was an attack by German 150mm heavy artillery and 75mm field howitzers. Because they had complete coordinates and intelligence provided by concealed German observation posts, the shells were as accurate as if they had eyes. The Soviet army, which had just gathered together in fear, was covered by this artillery fire and once again learned the power of precise German shelling.

However, under the coercion of the commissars and the barrier troops, these terrified Soviet Red Army soldiers still steeled themselves and began to cross the river. Because the rainy season was late, the river was still relatively shallow. Most of the Soviet troops began to wade across to the other side, holding their guns above their heads.

“Is this suicide?” a veteran German machine gunner asked, working the bolt of his gun and then mercilessly squeezing the trigger. The unique sound of the German machine gun, like sawing wood or tearing cloth, rang out. But what it brought to the Soviet troops in the river was not beautiful music, but painful death.

There was no more efficient way to kill people. It was as simple as shooting at a target. The Soviet soldiers moved slowly in the river, from time to time tripping on the stones under the water. The machine gun was like a scythe reaping wheat, cutting down these drenched Red Army soldiers into the water. Soon, the river was dyed red, and thousands of Soviet soldiers floated on the surface, silent and still.

On the high ground, the old sniper once again reached for his pocket, only to find that his magazines were all empty. Beside him, a dozen or so empty magazines for his G43 sniper rifle lay scattered about. He couldn’t even remember how many shots he had fired just now, but by a conservative estimate, he found that he had taken out at least several dozen enemy soldiers.

The Soviet attack was routed. The enraged commissars roared loudly. Looking at the mountains and fields of corpses, they still did not believe the fact that the enemy was too strong. They still felt that it was the despicable Ukrainian bastards who had not exerted their last ounce of strength.

“Bring up the KV-1 and T-26 tanks! Let’s show these Germans what an armored force really is!” the commissar beside the division commander commanded viciously, looking at the red river.