Chapter 296: Defensive Battle

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Lowering the binoculars in his hand, de Gaulle proudly pointed to the French tanks charging up the slope in the distance and said to his adj

Lowering the binoculars in his hand, de Gaulle proudly pointed to the French tanks charging up the slope in the distance and said to his adjutant, “We are determined to win this time. There shouldn’t be many German defenders near Stonne.”

“Oh? And how do you see that, General?” the adjutant asked with a smile.

“The German armored forces are rapidly attacking to the west. I judge that they must be trying to encircle our main forces in Belgium. But they have, after all, underestimated our France. With me attacking their flank at Stonne, it’s still a question of whether they will dare to continue their rapid push toward the English Channel,” de Gaulle said, pointing to the distance.

Sometimes, when your own superior is a rather shrewd figure, you often need to pretend to be a not-so-bright subordinate—it’s like when there is already a “lead comedian” on stage, you need a “straight man” to build up the atmosphere.

So, after learning of de Gaulle’s abilities, this adjutant of his had become a “straight man” who did odd jobs. He was accustomed to letting de Gaulle express his opinions, and as long as he clapped and cheered on the side, he had completed his task as a staff officer.

“So this time, our attack on Stonne is a sure thing?” the staff officer continued to ask.

“It all depends on whether we can pull off a feint,” de Gaulle said, pointing to the slope in front of them. “If we can capture this place, we can avoid the main highway that the Germans have heavily fortified, bypass the main German defensive positions, and cut into Stonne.”

He glanced at his staff officer with some pride and then continued, “To achieve the surprise of this attack and to not give the Germans time to call for reinforcements, there was not even a preparatory artillery barrage.”

“It seems that this time, the Germans are in for a rough time,” the staff officer said with a nod.

De Gaulle said loudly to the dispatch rider behind him, “Order the troops! Begin the attack!”

The French tanks slowly charged up the slope and then poured toward the narrow gap where the highway passed. Only a few tanks could pass through there at a time, so most of the French soldiers and tanks were unable to deploy.

“Front! French tanks! Two of them!” Rein shouted, holding his binoculars. “B1s. Aim carefully before you fire!”

“Armor-piercing!” Andre shouted, his face pressed against the gunsight.

“Armor-piercing, loaded!” Bruce reported loudly, his muscular arms pushing a shell into the chamber.

“Fire!” Rein commanded loudly.

“Boom!” An armor-piercing round flew toward its target with a loud roar, the immense impact kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust around the tank.

“Bruce, load!” Andre roared.

“Loaded!” Bruce shouted back as he pushed another shell into the chamber.

And on the small road directly in front of them, a French tank had had its hull pierced by a shell and was paralyzed on the road, spewing black smoke. But the tank next to it did not stop and continued to charge toward the German positions at its fastest speed.

“Boom!” Another armor-piercing round shot from the muzzle, flying toward its target with great kinetic energy. This shell was powerful and directly destroyed the turret of the charging B1 tank. The huge impact twisted the entire turret, and the rapidly advancing French tank, with this powerful blow, swayed and came to a stop.

“Target destroyed! Traverse the turret!” Rein said, lowering his binoculars and shouting into his intercom. “Baumann, reverse five meters! We need to move! Bruce, continue with armor-piercing! I see more French tanks coming!”

The tank quickly reversed a few meters, leaving its original spot. Rein raised his binoculars and saw more French tanks crossing over the wreckage of the two tanks, charging toward the German defenders’ position.

“Armor-piercing! Load!” Andre shouted, his eye pressed to the sight.

“Boom!” The shell flew out of the barrel again, hitting a charging French Somua S35 tank. This time, the French tank driver was not so lucky. The entire tank burst into flames, and the burning driver tried to climb out, but he stopped struggling halfway.

“French tank! Load armor-piercing,” Andre shouted again without a pause.

“My God! Where did so many French tanks come from?” Clark asked, looking at Baumann with some horror. Baumann did not speak but just pressed his head against the periscope, waiting for the next order.

“Rat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!” The German machine guns roared to life again and began to strafe the French infantry fiercely. Soon, a dozen or so French soldiers had fallen in pools of blood. But under the cover of the tanks, the French were still constantly closing in on the German defensive line.

There were still two German anti-tank teams, who were blocked on the small road to Rein’s left. They were responsible for covering Rein’s flank and preventing the French tanks from bypassing the main intersection and attacking the smaller intersection on the side. But they really had not expected that this time, the French would not just come with a few tanks, but with dozens.

The French tanks were still attacking forward, and some had begun to fire back. They charged past their burning comrades and, using their already adjusted angles, fired at Rein’s tank. But it was a pity that these shells all lacked accuracy and did not pose much of a threat to Rein.

“Front! A French tank! One!” The increasingly dense attack forced Rein to duck back into the tank turret. He shouted at Andre as he closed the hatch, “A B1. Aim carefully and fire directly!”

“Armor-piercing!” Andre shouted.

“Armor-piercing! Loaded!” Bruce did not hesitate in the slightest, once again pushing a shell into the chamber and then reporting loudly that he had completed the operation.

“Fire!” Rein commanded loudly.

“Boom!” Another armor-piercing round flew toward its target. Another French tank burst into flames, spewing smoke. And soon, another French tank charged past the wreckage of its comrade and fired a shot in Rein’s direction.

The 47mm French anti-tank shell drew a straight line and directly hit the frontal armor of Rein’s tank. The shell was deflected by the sloped surface, leaving only a deep pit in the steel plate that had been welded on the outside. And Rein’s tank, because it had been hit this time, shook violently.

“My God! I’ve been hit! I’ve been hit!” Clark’s voice came loudly from the front.

“Shut up! They didn’t penetrate our frontal armor! Stay calm! Stay calm!” Rein commanded loudly. “Baumann, keep reversing! Keep reversing.”

The tank shook again, and after a while, it stopped again. On the slightly tilted turret, the powerful 75mm long-barreled anti-tank gun roared once more, letting out a loud “boom.”

The shell once again flew toward its target, easily tearing through the hull armor of the B1 opposite, shattering the 75mm howitzer mounted on its hull. Of course, the French tankers inside could not escape death, and this huge French tank was soon paralyzed on the road.

As the battle continued, a line of seven wrecked French tanks now stretched down the slope at the intersection. However, the battle still continued. The German machine gun nests were still spitting fire, and the French soldiers had not been able to open a breach and were still struggling at a great distance.

Of course, these seven French tanks, lined up in a twisted line, almost formed a wall that extended down the slope. Because of the burning and the thick smoke, Rein still did not know how many French tanks were behind the wreckage. He only knew that the situation, as it was now, was indeed not very optimistic.

Another French Somua S35 tank charged out and fired a shot at Rein’s tank with its 47mm cannon. The shell once again hit Rein’s tank. This time, it not only left a shallow pit but also directly broke the weld, and the entire steel plate fell off again.

“Boom!” In the gunsight of the French tank driver, the demonic Panther tank 113 opposite fired again. He watched as the enemy’s tank cannon spat fire, and his own tank immediately exploded, and then an endless darkness rushed toward him.

“The eighth tank!” Andre’s shout was a little off-key, not because of excitement, but because of panic. The French tanks were charging over in an endless stream, putting an unparalleled pressure on his nerves.

When the ninth tank charged out, Andre fired the first shot of the day that did not destroy its target. The armor-piercing round hit the front of the tank’s turret and, due to the angle, was deflected. But because this shell had still hit the French tank, the vibration caused the French tank’s own shell to miss their Panther.

“Boom!” This shell flew directly over the Panther and hit the collapsed house where the Panther had been hiding just a moment ago, turning the pile of broken furniture there into splinters.

“Load!” Andre shouted angrily. He then fired again, directly blowing the turret off this French tank.

But because of this mistake, two French tanks had charged to a closer distance. A shell once again hit Rein’s Panther. But it was fortunate that this shell did not penetrate the Panther’s frontal armor and was once again deflected by the sloped plate.

A second shell followed close behind, but this time the Panther’s luck was very good. This shell scraped past the top of the tank’s hull, only taking out one of the side night-driving lights.

“Boom!” The Panther tank fired again, achieving its 10th kill in a short period of time. A French tank opposite was hit and exploded, sending up thick black smoke.