Chapter 300: Limited Reconnaissance

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“Report!” the staff officer knocked on the door and said loudly from the entrance. “Come in,” Guderian said. He was staring at the huge map

“Report!” the staff officer knocked on the door and said loudly from the entrance.

“Come in,” Guderian said. He was staring at the huge map spread on his desk, carefully looking at the positions of both sides’ troops that were drawn on it. His office was a mess. This had originally been the city hall of Stonne. The retreating forces had not taken anything with them and, like thieves, had made a mess of their own things.

“Just a moment ago, about 10 kilometers to our direct south, the French 10th Armoured Corps launched a fierce attack,” the staff officer said, handing a document to Guderian. “I hear the scale was very large, and they even dispatched over a hundred tanks.”

“Don’t so easily believe the complaints of your subordinates, my dear Bob,” Guderian said with a smile, tossing the document aside. “They always exaggerate all sorts of difficulties. For example, they won’t say that they are tired and need a rest, but will say that their tanks are out of fuel. A similar example is that they can bravely ‘repel’ an enemy ten or a hundred times their size, but they just need to be given a month’s leave.”

Exaggerating combat records has been around since the beginning of human warfare. Sometimes it’s due to statistical errors, sometimes it’s to claim credit and seek rewards, and sometimes it’s just to cover up one’s own mistakes and losses. This kind of thing cannot be truly avoided, and sometimes it is even exaggerated and encouraged for the needs of war propaganda.

Of course, there is a very famous maxim that tells people that frequently exaggerating one’s combat record is extremely irresponsible to oneself—”Don’t always exaggerate your combat record, or your superior will send you on a more difficult mission next time.” Because of this, everyone will carefully consider the consequences before choosing to boast.

As a qualified general, one needs to possess many necessary skills, and as it happens, recognizing the boasts of one’s subordinates is one of these necessary skills. It was clear that Guderian, who often fought on the front lines and had even been on the battlefield himself, saw these problems more clearly. So when he heard of an attack by over a hundred tanks, his first instinctive reaction was disbelief.

“General, our army has repulsed this French attack on the side of a small pass, destroying 29 of their tanks,” the staff officer had to briefly introduce the combat results reported from the 9th Motorized Infantry Division.

“Twenty-eight tanks? That’s a bit of a stretch for the 9th Motorized Infantry Division. The 3rd SS Panzer Division must have helped, right?” Guderian asked, straightening up and taking off the monocle clipped to his eye to look at his secretary. “Did the French really send out over a hundred tanks? Were our losses heavy?”

“General, we lost 63 soldiers at the pass, and two more are seriously wounded and are being treated,” the staff officer reported. “In addition, the French attack was very sudden. At that time, there was only one of our army’s tanks there, and this tank was destroyed.”

“One tank?” Guderian was taken aback for a moment, then suppressed a vague sense of unease in his heart and continued to ask, “How could one tank be allowed to hold out for so long? Did the crew all survive?”

“According to several reports from the scene, this tank was our army’s tank ace, number 113. One of the crew was killed in action, and one was wounded. The others are fine,” the staff officer said after recalling. “And a report just came from the technical appraisal department. They are responsible for collecting the damage parameters of the destroyed Panther tanks. This report needs to be sent back to the technical department in Berlin.”

113? Rein’s tank? Guderian felt an indescribable feeling in his heart and asked, “Who was killed in action? Who was wounded?”

He then pushed past his staff officer and walked out, went to the office in charge of document classification, grabbed all the reports related to this defensive battle, and began to read them carefully. He didn’t know until he read them. When he saw the photos taken on the scene and the written records, even the battle-hardened Guderian gasped.

The photos showed that the track on the right side of this Panther tank had been hit and had broken off. 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, there were other photos to show that 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, covered with dense holes.

And the entire turret of this tank had been hit several times. The analysis showed that several times it had completely avoided being pierced only because of the angle. It was emphasized that this tank’s several adjustments of position were very clever and correct.

When he saw the casualty analysis at the back, Guderian breathed a slight sigh of relief. It showed that the gunner, Andre, was wounded, and a radio operator named Clark was killed in action. He did not know these two men, but had only seen their names mentioned in some commendations, so this put his mind at ease. After all, he was only concerned about Rein Hardt, whom he knew.

“Submit this report as it is. Don’t add any embellishments. In addition, not including the air force, how many French tanks did the Friedrich rocket launchers destroy in total?” Guderian asked, after tidying up the report and putting it back on the table in the archives room.

“About five tanks were destroyed. This was a consequence of the enemy’s tanks being too densely packed,” the staff officer replied from behind Guderian.

Guderian nodded, then ordered the civilian officer who had stood up in a fluster, “Help me draft a commendation, to be circulated to the entire army… In addition, submit an application in the name of the 1st Panzer Corps, to apply for the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross with Oak Leaves for Lieutenant Rein Hardt.”

“Lieutenant?” The chief of staff glanced at Guderian, then nodded. “I understand, General. I will sign an order to promote Rein to lieutenant tank commander.”

“Give him a leave. Just have them advance with the battalion headquarters. Don’t arrange any other missions for them. When the replacement tanks arrive, give him priority for a new one,” Guderian said after a moment’s thought.

He then walked out. Halfway there, he stopped, turned back, and added, “Pick the best radio operator for him, to cooperate with their crew. Remember, use your head when you do this. Arrange for someone who can quickly integrate into their crew, and his skills must be top-notch. Understand?”

Guderian thought for a moment, then continued to instruct his staff officer. “In addition, pick some good things from the supplies and send them over as a supplement. Say it’s a reward from me to console their battalion.”

“Yes! I understand,” the staff officer nodded.

“Is there anything else?” Guderian asked, looking at his familiar staff officer. He knew that his constipated-like expression must mean that there was still some problem he hadn’t mentioned.

“General von Rundstedt has sent a telegram. For some reason, the fuel transport must be delayed for two days before it can reach us,” the staff officer said. “He suggests that we stand by and wait for the infantry to come up before continuing west.”

“Oh?” Guderian was taken aback for a moment, then with a roll of his eyes, he figured out the twists and turns. Von Rundstedt must have been under pressure from the Army High Command to have the armored forces stop their attack. The army had always been very worried about the radical “Sickle Cut” operation. This time, they wanted to stabilize the front and, bypassing the Führer, to restrain the armored forces, which were as radical as the Führer.

“How many days’ worth of fuel does the corps still have in reserve?” Having thought of this key point, Guderian asked with a frown.

The staff officer was naturally well-informed about such matters and immediately replied, “We captured a portion of the French army’s reserve gasoline at Stonne. The quality is quite high. Including our own, if we mix it, it will be enough for at least five days. But this portion of gasoline is on the report of captured materials. It’s not very easy for us to just take it and use it…”

“Immediately send a telegram to Army Group headquarters. Tell them that due to French sabotage, the gasoline we captured has been detonated,” Guderian said, wiping away tens of tons of materials from the books with a single stroke of his pen.

As if that wasn’t enough, he said to his already rather embarrassed chief of staff, “Also, bring me the original telegram.”

A few minutes later, the telegram was delivered to Guderian. It read: Due to the overly rapid advance of the troops, which has caused chaos in the fuel transport, Army Group is temporarily suspending the supply of fuel to the frontline troops. In addition to strengthening their defenses, all units may send out reconnaissance units to confirm the enemy’s further movements and to prepare for subsequent actions.

After reading it, Guderian threw the telegram on the desk. A confident smile appeared on his face again, and he pointed at the map and said to his chief of staff, “Order the 1st Regiment of the 1st Panzer Division to continue advancing west. The mission is to ‘reconnoiter’ French movements. But you can privately talk to their regimental commander and tell him that I have defined the ‘farthest reconnaissance distance’ for him as Laon.”

“Laon? Isn’t that too far?” The chief of staff felt that this kind of behavior was almost no different from disobeying an order on the battlefield, so he had no choice but to brace himself and ask, “If this is investigated…”

“No one will investigate,” Guderian said with a wave of his hand, encouraging his chief of staff. “Since General von Rundstedt’s order did not prohibit reconnaissance, then he has left us a loophole. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

For a frontline general in command of troops, the order of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army was, of course, not to be disobeyed. But who among those who had risen to command an army of several hundred thousand was an idiot with a low IQ? They naturally knew that the order from the Army High Command went against the Führer’s wishes, so they had to choose “who to obey” on this fundamental issue.

Von Rundstedt was, of course, a clever man among clever men. By ordering the troops to be restrained, he was following the wishes of the Army High Command. And by giving his subordinates unlimited reconnaissance authority, he was covertly supporting Guderian and Rommel’s continued offensive. And as long as the various corps and division command posts at the front did not continue to advance, they could endlessly push the responsibility downwards.

And once it was investigated, then it would be a fight between the gods of the Reich High Command and the Army High Command, and it would have nothing to do with them, the frontline officers and men.

The chief of staff was naturally not a fool either. Hearing Guderian say this, he also understood the reason for the matter and immediately nodded and gave the order for the various units to continue to “reconnoiter” forward.