Chapter 218: All Quiet on the Eastern Front

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The German Panther tank, while advancing, suddenly braked. A cloud of white smoke erupted from the muzzle of its cannon, which had been aimed at a Soviet tank. The T-26 opposite was immediately blown to pieces, exploding with a violent roar.

“Boom!” Behind tank 113, tank 112 also fired. A shell hit the frontal armor plate of a T-26. Subsequently, this stricken Soviet tank also stopped moving, as if its crew had all fallen asleep.

With the addition of these two tanks, the German defensive line, which had been under strain, was instantly stabilized. The machine gun nests once again began to make their wood-sawing sound, and the G43 rifles everywhere began to return fire frantically, as if to vent the anger of having been suppressed to the point of collapse just now.

A KV-1 tank stalled while retreating and then did not move another step. A hail of bullets began to be directed at this malfunctioning Soviet tank, making a pinging sound on its armor. A short while later, several crew members pushed open the hatches and jumped out. The driver was cut down by machine-gun fire, and the commander’s head was shattered by a sniper. But the gunner was lucky; he jumped off the tank and retreated with the infantry.

“I heard the 3rd SS Panzer Division is a bunch of madmen. Seeing them today, it’s a madness that I really like,” the German regimental commander in the observation post said, lowering his binoculars and letting out a breath. “If they hadn’t come in time, our defense would have collapsed.”

“I also didn’t expect the number one tank ace of the Eastern Front to come and support us,” the regimental staff officer also breathed a sigh of relief. He chuckled and sat back down at the table, taking a sip of water before continuing, “With them here, not a single Soviet tank will be able to make it back.”

While the atmosphere on this side had relaxed, the battlefield over there was still a scene of life-and-death madness. Tank 113 began to reverse because two T-26 tanks seemed to be trying to close the distance and were approaching them at full speed. But tank 112 behind them remained stationary, firing a shot that hit a T-26 that was turning not far away.

“Hehe! I hit him! That’s three! Rein! Three!” Marcus’s voice shouted loudly in the headset. But Rein did not speak. The muzzle of his tank’s cannon spat flames, which spoke for him. The frontal armor plate of a KV-1 opposite them actually withstood the Panther tank’s thunderous blow. Due to the angle, this shell ricocheted off the KV-1’s armor plate, leaving only a deep crater.

The KV-1, having been violently shaken, seemed to have suffered a mechanical failure and stopped advancing. But the tank’s turret began to turn, bit by bit, clearly wanting to return fire on its opponent. And around this tank, a dozen or so Soviet infantry were in a panicked retreat. This attack had clearly resulted in even heavier losses.

“Bruce, load! Andre, fire!” Rein commanded loudly. His tank fired again. The shell hit the target tank’s turret directly, but this attack was once again blocked by the thick gun mantlet.

The Panther’s hull machine gun was firing continuously, quickly cutting down the dozen or so Red Army soldiers in front. Clark’s loud shout came through the headset. “My God! There are so many of them! My God, you didn’t hit that tank! It wasn’t penetrated!”

“Bruce, load! Andre, fire!” Rein continued to command loudly. Just as he gave the order, a 45mm shell fired by a T-26 hit the turret of tank 113 but was also deflected. The front of the turret was the thickest part of the Panther’s armor, and it was clearly not a place that a 45mm-caliber gun could penetrate.

The shell that the Panther had just fired, although it had failed to penetrate the KV-1’s frontal armor, had still created trouble for the Soviet tankers inside. Judging by the speed at which the tank’s turret was rotating, it was clear that this shell had caused considerable damage to the various components inside.

“Boom!” The Panther’s 75mm cannon fired again. An armor-piercing shell tore through the air and directly hit the almost immobile KV-1 heavy tank. This shell finally lived up to expectations. It struck the KV-1’s turret, then ricocheted up to the armor plate above the driver, pierced the weak hatch there, and finally brought this terrifying monster to a stop.

The Soviet troops were routed. All the courage they could muster had vanished with the destruction of the few KV heavy tanks. Many Soviet soldiers raised their hands and surrendered. More ran toward the riverbank. They were cut down by snipers and machine guns, or were killed by shells in the river.

Two German planes arrived, adding to the disaster of this Soviet rout. Machine-gun strafing plus aerial bombs stopped the fleeing Soviet troops a kilometer beyond the other side of the river.

The crews of the two T-26 tanks in the river also climbed out, jumped into the water, and fled with the infantry. Because in their eyes, those two German tanks were like the chariots of the devil, invulnerable, like monsters that had crawled out of hell.

Rein pushed open his hatch and looked at the Soviet soldiers who were kneeling on the battlefield with their hands raised. He listened to the wails of those who were lying on the ground, holding their own intestines. He stared at the Soviet positions on the other side of the river in the distance, at the red flag flying there, his expression extremely grim.

A brutal image suddenly appeared in his mind. A weak version of himself, holding a pistol, gasping for breath beside a pile of corpses. There were many bodies scattered about, young mothers, children even weaker than him.

Soon, some German soldiers with rifles gathered around, cheering the names of the German panzer crews. The victory of this day belonged to them, to these people who had survived. The morning’s attack had cost the German army 71 killed in action, but they had won, and won beautifully—because at least a thousand Soviet soldiers had been killed here, their bodies littering the mountains and fields. There were also the wrecks of a dozen or so tanks left on the battlefield.

Lowering the binoculars in his hand, the frontline commander of this Soviet army attack, the famous General Zhukov, sighed and said to the officers around him, “Don’t launch another attack. It’s obviously just sending them to their deaths! The German army’s combat effectiveness is not on the same level as ours.”

“General! We’re giving up just like that? Defeat will mean…” a division commander said to his superior with his head bowed.

“Since we have lost anyway, even if we fill this river with the blood of our own comrades, we still can’t win this battle,” Zhukov said with a wave of his hand, clutching the document the signalman had just sent. “Let’s not gamble the lives of our own people on a miracle that will never happen. The other side has tanks as fire support. It’s impossible for our army to break through the defenses in this vicinity.”

Just a moment ago, news had come from another river-crossing assault position. The German armored forces had begun to counter-attack. About 20 German tanks had appeared on the position. The Soviet attacking force had been completely wiped out, with a loss of about 1,200 men. Including the losses in front of them, the Soviet forces had lost nearly 3,000 men in just a few hours. It could be said that this unit was no longer capable of carrying out combat missions.

“But…” a Soviet officer wanted to say more.

Zhukov cut him off. “Just wait for the result of the investigation from above. Don’t say anything more. I will prepare a report of the defeat. At least the protective capabilities of the KV-1 tank are still worthy of affirmation. If its reliability were a bit better, it would be even more perfect.”

The smoke of battle dissipated. The wreckage of the tanks whose ammunition had been detonated was still burning. The German soldiers carried their wounded away. More soldiers carefully buried the bodies of their own men on the riverbank. They were silent, but as they passed the German tanks, they all stopped and gave a solemn look of respect.

“We’re pulling back behind the bushes. Pick a concealed position,” Rein, having come to his senses, said to Marcus over the intercom. “Get out of here!”

“You’re right! It’s easy to be hit by retaliatory shelling here,” Marcus replied from the other side.

“Baumann! Start the tank! Get us out of here!” Rein said, raising the binoculars to his chest and looking into the distance. There, a Soviet red flag was burning, having just been hit by an aerial bomb. And the German Fw-190D fighter that had dropped that bomb was at this very moment circling above Rein and the others.

Soon, the exhaust pipe at the back of the tank trembled, and the tank began to slowly reverse. Everything on the riverbank soon returned to calm. The subsequent Soviet retaliatory attack did not come, as if this attack had never happened at all.

In the evening, General Kluge, commander of Army Group F, received the frontline special envoy of the Soviet Union. This envoy had passed through the German lines under a white flag, because the entire German army in Polish territory had been on high alert.

“The Soviet Union has no intention of launching an attack on friendly Germany. What happened this afternoon was a radical act by a few fanatical saboteurs attempting to affect the relations between the Soviet Union and Germany,” the Soviet special envoy said as soon as they met. “I have come under orders to restore the relations between our two countries with the most sincere attitude.”

“Our army has suffered very heavy losses, Sir Envoy,” General Kluge said, full of confidence. He was acting on Akado’s orders and was in charge of this diplomatic mission. A few hours before, the Führer’s Residence had received a call from the Soviet side, claiming that this attack was entirely the personal action of a frontline general. The Soviet Union was currently punishing this batch of generals who had acted without authorization.

“The Soviet Union will take responsibility for this conflict. We will give your side satisfactory compensation,” the envoy said, glancing at Kluge.

“What kind of compensation?” Kluge continued to ask.

“The original 600,000 Polish prisoners and 200,000 women, we will not be short a single one! And this time, we will give an extra 50,000!” the envoy said, gritting his teeth. “We only hope that no more unpleasant incidents will occur on the Soviet-German border.”

“I’ll treat you to a drink!” Kluge said with a smiling nod. “Of course, you are right! All quiet on the Eastern Front, isn’t it?”

The Soviet envoy was taken aback for a moment, then also broke into a smile. “Of course! There is no war here.”