Chapter 299: The End

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Suddenly, a strange sound came from the sky above. A shell hit the wreckage of a French tank that was already spewing thick smoke, sending a

Suddenly, a strange sound came from the sky above. A shell hit the wreckage of a French tank that was already spewing thick smoke, sending a shower of iron fragments. A second shell then landed next to a large tree by the side of the road, instantly blowing off countless branches. Just two seconds later, a dense barrage of ammunition, one round after another, rained down on the heads of the French army piled up in the pass. The sound of explosions rose and fell, one after another, without end.

After some adjustment, and with various news and intelligence showing that the French army had indeed launched a large-scale offensive at the small road pass, the German army quickly mobilized its most powerful weapon. The divisional Friedrich rocket launchers of the 9th Motorized Infantry Division covered the pass with a dense barrage of fire.

Looking at the fireballs exploding one after another in the pass, listening to the explosions that seemed to pound against his heart, de Gaulle was speechless. He couldn’t understand why his meticulously planned counter-attack couldn’t even take a small pass. He couldn’t understand how the other side could have concentrated such a dense barrage of fire so quickly.

“General, listening to the artillery fire, the other side has at least a regiment of large-caliber artillery. Otherwise, should we let our own direct-support artillery open fire?” the staff officer asked, looking at the somewhat flustered de Gaulle and suggesting in a low voice. “Should we also shell the German positions for a round?”

“It’s useless. This place can no longer be taken,” de Gaulle said dejectedly. “It won’t be long before the German planes that have taken off from the frontline airfields will arrive. For our armored forces to be so densely packed here is no different from suicide.”

He waved his hand and said, “Contact the air force. Cover our retreat as much as possible. All units are to retreat in a dispersed manner, moving in company-sized units. Reassemble after moving south for 50 kilometers.”

Yes, there was no need to force the attack any longer. Just as de Gaulle had expected, a short while later, five Stukas arrived late. After all, due to the speed of the German army’s advance, the field airfields had not yet been completed. These planes had taken off from a more distant place, so their speed was a bit slower than the divisional rocket launcher units.

The French army was routed. The French 10th Armoured Corps, which had already suffered very heavy losses, was then hit by a round of covering fire from the Friedrich rocket launchers and was then relentlessly bombed by the Stukas, which were nipping at their heels. By the time they had retreated to their starting point, including the equipment that had been abandoned due to breakdowns and other failures, they had actually lost a full 49 tanks and a dozen or so armored cars. This was almost a fifth of the entire force in de Gaulle’s hands.

One must know that one of his main tasks was to prevent Guderian’s 1st Panzer Corps from heading south, so most of his troops could not be spared to participate in the attack. Therefore, his failure this time basically meant that he had lost his offensive capability.

Rein sat on his tank, holding his gun and staring into the distance. To the side of the tank, a small awning had been hastily set up with a dusty white bedsheet. Andre was lying on a door panel, and a medic from the infantry company was giving him a simple bandaging. Everywhere there were craters still steaming. The direct impression left by the power of the Friedrich rocket launcher was that it was overwhelming.

Bruce was sitting on the ground, his head bowed listlessly, being grumbled at by Baumann. The decadent life in Berlin as a hero crew had drained the body of this alcoholic and womanizer, Bruce, which was why he had been panting for breath during the intense loading in the battle just now.

Two assault guns that had arrived later had already driven out of the pass and had set up a security position on the perimeter. Following them were truck after truck of infantry, who jumped down by the craters that had been temporarily filled with stones and broken bricks, unloaded their anti-tank guns, and established an even more solid defense.

The grenadier company commander, who had held the line with them, walked over and carefully looked at this god-like tank, number 113. On its cannon barrel were painted the white rings that represented its previous combat record, but apart from that cannon, this tank was almost no different from a wreck.

The track on the right side had come off, and the idler wheel on the same side had also been blown into several pieces and was scattered not far away. A shell had pierced the tank’s side armor here and had hit the tank’s radio operator. Of course, the other parts of this tank were also covered in shell marks. More than half of the side skirts hanging on both sides had been blown off, and only a few pieces were still hanging on, and they were also almost like sieves.

The entire turret had been hit several times. The basket at the rear of the turret had been destroyed, and the things that had originally been in it were long since gone. The only thing that was still relatively intact was the white bedsheet that had been used as the roof of the infirmary.

A tank is not big, but it is not small either. But on such a tank, even the exhaust pipe, which was less than a twentieth of its size, had been blown off. Even the headlight, which was only the size of a fist, had been hit. It is not difficult to imagine how dense an attack this tank had faced at the time.

This grenadier company commander leaned against the fender of Rein’s tank and handed his cigarette case to Rein. Rein, who never smoked, took one, put it in his mouth, lit it with the commander’s lighter, took a deep drag, but was choked and began to cough.

The grenadier company commander was clearly taken aback for a moment, then laughed. “First time smoking?”

“Cough, cough. Yes, first time smoking,” Rein nodded, holding the cigarette between his fingers with a somewhat unpracticed gesture. He blew out the smoke and said, “How are things on your side?”

“More than sixty dead, almost half,” the company commander said with a desolate sigh, but then with a hint of pride, he said in a cynical tone, “We were also thinking of retreating, but when we saw you were still fighting, we didn’t go. My men still have some face. They don’t have the habit of abandoning their comrades and running on their own.”

“You are all good soldiers. Clark was too,” Rein said, taking another drag from his cigarette. He was once again choked to the point of tears streaming down his face, but he still stubbornly swallowed it. “This cigarette is really strong. My throat hurts after one puff.”

“It’s from a small German factory. The tobacco isn’t processed carefully, and they even cut corners on the filter. Of course it’s harsh,” the company commander said with a smile. He touched the half-empty cigarette pack with his fingers, looked up at the completely wrecked tank, and said, “We’ve received orders to retreat to Stonne in half an hour to rest and wait for replacements. What about you? When are you pulling out?”

“I don’t know either. I’m waiting for my unit. I’m not sure when they will arrive. My radio is broken…” As he said this, he thought again of the soldier with the round glasses.

When they had first met, Captain Carter had pointed to this person and introduced him. “This is Private First Class Clark. He is the radio operator and, of course, also responsible for your hull machine gun.”

Rein remembered that at that time, he was different from the others. He had immediately stood at attention and returned the salute, looking very sharp. Carter had even added a word of praise for him. “He’s probably the most normal soldier in this dormitory! His technical skills are quite solid.”

But now, neither Captain Carter, who had led Rein into that small dormitory, nor Clark, whom Carter had described as the most normal soldier, were there anymore. They had just become memories. And if the entire company, or even the entire battalion, were to disappear, who would be there to prove that they had ever existed?

“If you don’t mind the trouble, I can help you notify the regimental headquarters, and then have the infantry there tell your men to come over,” the grenadier company commander said, helping out enthusiastically as he smoked.

The army is a very strange place. The people here are cold-blooded enough to kill and fight without batting an eye. The people here are indifferent enough that the veterans usually don’t bother to remember the names of the new replacements. The people here are righteous enough that for a soldier, honor and friendship can even surpass life.

Although they were both indifferent and cold-blooded, they worshipped the strong from the bottom of their hearts. When they had decided on a person they admired, they would not easily change for their entire lives. What was even more incomprehensible was that this sentiment had continued from the time of Caesar in Rome to the present day and still had not changed in the slightest. So it is not difficult to understand why some soldiers could not even borrow a cigarette, while some soldiers were even sent off with a smile when they borrowed a truck.

Rein smiled and shook his head, then took another drag of his cigarette, still coughing nonstop. “Cough, cough. No need. They should already be on their way.”

Yes, the infantry had already caught up. The defensive line had been reinforced. One after another, anti-tank guns had reinforced the riddled defensive line, making the defenses in the area south of Stonne impregnable. It was unlikely that a tragic battle like the one for this pass would happen again.

“It was an honor to fight alongside you,” the grenadier company commander said. As an old smoker, his smoking speed was clearly much faster than Rein’s. He threw the cigarette butt he was holding between his fingers into the mud, stamped it out with his leather boot, and blew out the last puff of smoke. “Welcome to visit the 1st Company anytime. What’s next? Any plans?”

“Kill Frenchmen. Kill them until they realize how miserable it is to be my enemy,” Rein said, looking at the burning cigarette between his fingers and laughing softly. “Next time, I will take out 20 tanks without a scratch!”

“Hahahaha! Take care!” the grenadier company commander was taken aback for a moment, then laughed out loud, and then continued, “I hope to see you again.”

Then this grenadier company commander turned and left. And Rein also finished the last drag of his cigarette, threw the butt to one side, and shouted to the dejected Bruce and Baumann, “Come and help. Get everything that’s still usable out.”

So the three of them climbed onto the tank and began to work. They moved the remaining shells out of the tank one by one and piled them in a trapezoid on the side. Then there were the drum magazines for the machine guns, the toolbox in the corner, and the small mirror and the coaxial machine gun. Of course, using a leather hose and an empty gasoline can, they also scavenged the fuel from inside the tank.

When they had moved all these things out, Marcus arrived with the other two tanks. They divided the ammunition and fuel, put Andre on one of the tanks, and then the others split up. After blowing up the now-useless tank 113, they were ordered to return to Stonne.