Chapter 187: The Knights

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In the fields, several German Panther tanks in a wedge formation were searching forward. This was already the Polish heartland, more than 50 kilometers east of Kraków. The German armored forces had swept through southern Poland with unprecedented speed.

The medium tank, equipped with a large-caliber cannon and thick, solid armor, made its grand debut in Poland as the protagonist of the war, becoming an important symbol of how technology had changed the face of warfare. At this moment, human wisdom and experience were all being applied to bloody slaughter, bursting forth with astonishing achievements as always, showing the world the ferocious face of the king of battle.

“No Polish troops sighted on the left! It seems we’re advancing too fast!” Marcus’s voice came through the headset, making Rein lower the binoculars from his eyes. The vehicle jolted slightly. The terrain here was very suitable for a tank attack; as far as the eye could see, there were almost no obstacles.

On the other side, not far from the highway they had just passed, was a small hill covered with shrubs. They didn’t have the manpower or the time to see what was behind the hill. In the eyes of the German panzer crews, any enemy left behind them was synonymous with being no threat.

Rein pressed his throat microphone and joked, “Captain, Marcus says you’re advancing too fast. He says he’s taken a crap and hasn’t even had time to pull up his pants.” After speaking, he took out the small tin box from his breast pocket, opened the lid, and poured out a few chocolate candies. He then offered some to Andre, who was leaning out of the adjacent hatch, laughing uncontrollably.

“Thanks,” Andre said, waving his hand to refuse Rein’s chocolate candy. He glanced at the two thin white lines on the barrel of his tank’s cannon, grinned, and laughed again.

“This is Captain Carter,” the voice of the company commander’s vehicle came from the front. “Tank 112, report personnel poisoning status! Put on your gas masks! I can already smell Marcus’s stench from here. Hahaha.”

“Hahahaha,” the laughter of the commanders of tanks 114 and 115 came through the headset, interspersed with Marcus’s loud curses. “Rein! I’ll poke your ass with my tank’s cannon barrel!”

“Alright! Joke’s over!” Carter said over the radio. “We haven’t seen any Polish defenders for a day now. Either they’re fleeing faster than we can advance, or we’ve really left their defensive lines behind us.”

“Ever since we broke through their lines, made a detour, and handed over 500 Polish prisoners to the infantry that caught up, we haven’t seen any organized Polish units,” the commander of tank 114 also said. “They’re not going to let us just drive all the way to Warsaw like this, are they?”

“Tank 114, we can’t drive to Warsaw!” Marcus said with a laugh. “This road leads east. Warsaw is to the north.”

“I think the Polish army’s frontal defense has been broken,” Rein said over the radio. “If we run into Polish troops again, they’ll probably be the reserves deployed on their second line.”

“Attention! I’ve spotted Polish soldiers to my direct front! See them? He’s on horseback! I estimate he’s a scout for the Polish army,” Marcus suddenly shouted in the headset. “Behind me! Behind me! My God, at your five o’clock, Captain!”

“I see them, Marcus! There are two of them! It looks like they’re scouts,” Carter said, adjusting his turret and finally spotting the Polish soldiers who had appeared behind them. “They should be retreating Polish troops! We should surround and block them.”

In the distance, the two Polish soldiers on tall horses frantically turned their mounts and galloped toward a small hill not far away. It was clear that a sizable Polish army unit must be hiding behind that hill.

Logically, the German side only had five tanks, and they should not have recklessly chosen to attack before ascertaining the scale of the Polish forces. But all along the way, the German tanks, relying on their overwhelming performance, had often attacked Polish forces that outnumbered them by dozens or even hundreds of times, and had gradually forgotten the distant word “caution.”

Speaking of which, they were worthy of the title of a German panzer division, a branch of the service in which the Führer had placed great hopes. Along the way, they had destroyed countless trucks and cannons, knocked out 15 Polish tanks, captured more than 1,700 Polish soldiers, and had even captured a Polish division commander alive.

Rein glanced at Andre beside him, pressed his throat microphone, and loudly gave the combat order. “Clark, check the ammunition for the hull machine gun! Bruce, load a high-explosive shell, and then…”

“And then have an armor-piercing round ready in a handy position! You can be more concise next time!” Bruce interrupted.

“Maintain formation! Adjust your hulls! Aim at the possible enemy positions! Tank 115, you guard the rear and report any situation immediately,” Carter commanded loudly.

“Tank 112 understands!” Marcus replied in the headset.

“Tank 115 understands!” “Tank 114 understands!” “Tank 112 understands!” Everyone’s nerves were taut as they watched the hill on the other side of the rice paddy.

“Baumann, turn the hull,” Rein said, adjusting his position, one hand on the tank’s hatch, waiting for the tank to climb the not-so-high hill. In such an open area, the charge of five tanks, four in front and one behind, was a very impressive sight.

As the tank rumbled, crushed the shrubs, and drove onto the top of the hill, Rein was stunned by the scene before him. He found that behind the hill, countless pairs of eyes were also staring at him in a daze.

It was indeed countless pairs of eyes. Behind the hill was a dense mass of Polish cavalry, resting in place. The sound of the tanks had startled the warhorses, and both men and horses were looking at Rein’s and the others’ tanks. The scene suddenly became very quiet: on one side were five world-class Panther tanks, and on the other were endless, innumerable Polish cavalry.

“If I were you, I’d close the hatch…” Andre said softly to Rein, his eye pressed to the cannon’s gunsight.

“Captain! Do we wait for them to attack, or do we charge down?” Marcus asked in the headset.

“Boom!” Without waiting for Rein’s order, Andre had pressed the firing button. The cannon spat hot flames, and a shell flew from the muzzle, landing in the midst of the Polish soldiers not far away. It exploded in an instant, sending human limbs and horse flesh flying, like a starting gun that awakened the two stunned groups of men.

“Machine gun, free fire, Clark!” Rein ducked into the tank and slammed the commander’s hatch. He had no intention of becoming the first tank commander in history to be taken out by cavalry. By the time he had settled into his seat, the tank had already charged down the slope and into the crowd.

“Rat-tat! Rat-tat-tat!” The tank’s front hull machine gun fired frantically, cutting down swaths of men and horses like reaping wheat.

Bruce frantically shoved high-explosive shells into the breech. Andre fired the shells out of the cannon without aiming. Their tank was like a steel knife cutting through tofu, carving a straight line through the crowd. And behind them was a trail of mangled corpses and shocked Polish cavalrymen who had forgotten to flee.

The Polish cavalrymen, their faces splattered with the blood of their comrades, stood there, not knowing what to do. They didn’t know why, in just a few short years, war had become something they no longer recognized. This morning, they had been ordered to come here, had sworn to protect their homes and defend their country, had sworn to fight until the last moment… Now they knew the strength of their opponent. Now they knew that sometimes, blood could not be exchanged for victory.

“For Poland! Charge!” Finally, a cavalryman came to his senses. He mounted his horse, pulled the lance that was stuck in the ground out of the mud, adjusted the steel helmet on his head, and with a squeeze of his legs, leaped onto the bloody path paved by the German tanks. “Brave sons of Poland! Those who do not fear death, follow me!”

As he passed, soldiers mounted their horses and followed him, charging toward the German tanks. Many soldiers raised their rifles and began to fire at the German tanks. More drew their sabers and charged the relentlessly advancing steel beasts.

“They’re insane! My God!” Clark was busy reloading the hull machine gun. The Polish soldiers swarming in front were cut down by the coaxial machine gun controlled by Andre. Because there were too many bodies of horses and men, the German tank’s advance had slowed down. Rein could hear the ping of bullets deflecting off the tank’s armor.

“Marcus! Can you see me? Cover my rear!” Faced with the frenzied counter-attack of the Polish army, he suddenly felt things were getting out of control. He shouted to his teammate, “I can’t see the captain’s command vehicle on my left.”

“I can’t see you! I’ve got two Poles on my tank trying to pry open my hatch!” Marcus’s voice also sounded tense. “Someone get them off me! My God…”

“Clark! Keep firing!” Rein shouted at the radio operator, who was in the front, vomiting up the contents of his stomach in disgust. “Or I’ll throw you out of the vehicle!”

The hull machine gun began to sing merrily again. Only then did Rein pat Andre’s shoulder. “Traverse the turret! Find Marcus’s tank 112! Use the machine gun to get the Polish soldiers off his vehicle!”

“Steady the vehicle, Baumann! Maintain your heading!” The tank suddenly shook, and Rein shouted, holding on to the grab handle.

The driver, Baumann, replied without turning his head, “They’re trying to jam our tracks with lances! How am I supposed to keep it steady?”

“I’ve found tank 112! There are at least three Poles on its turret!” Andre shouted into the sight. “I’m firing! I’m firing!”

A line of tracer rounds flew toward the target, sparking off the turret armor of Marcus’s tank 112. The few Poles on the turret were hit by the bullets and fell off the tank.

Suddenly, Clark screamed, “I can’t see any more Poles! I can’t see any more Poles!”

Rein knew they had punched through the Polish cavalry’s position. “Tank 113 calling 111! Calling 111! Captain, I can’t find your position!”

The voice that came through the headset was not Carter’s. “I’m stuck on the bodies of two horses! I’m reversing! They’re attacking my tank with sabers! There are Poles all around! I need help! Tank 114 needs help!”