Chapter 235: Setting Off

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In the early morning, Rein, wearing a newly issued winter coat, was walking on the thick snow at the garrison of the 1st Panzer Corps, which had been temporarily assigned to von Rundstedt’s command on the Western Front. The winter coats issued to the armored troops were jacket-style and not very thick.

After all, the inside of a tank was still very warm. The heat from the engine was transmitted through a thin iron plate into the entire combat compartment of the tank, much like a high-power electric heater. Therefore, the limited supply of cotton was mostly allocated to the winter coats equipped by the infantry.

Someone once said that in the Second World War, China lacked everything except people. And Germany, as an Axis power, was even more pitiful; it even lacked people. Although this was a joke, there was some truth to it. Germany had never been abundant in various materials. Even the ammunition, which had already been simplified to steel-cased rounds, had to be used with careful calculation.

Rein had just returned from a meeting at the battalion headquarters. It seemed the offensive was about to begin, because the battalion was already deploying detailed attack missions. It looked like the situation at the beginning of the Battle of France was much better than at the beginning of the battle for Poland.

This was because the mission that the battalion had given to Rein’s and the other crews was very simple: to pass through the forest area on several simple roads cleared by the combat engineers. Compared to missions like capturing a certain area or encircling a certain unit, this seemed very easy to complete.

The weather didn’t seem that cold, and the tanks were in pretty good condition. A few days ago, each tank had been issued with white paint, but unfortunately, due to a slight shortage of paint, each tank was only allowed to paint the front of its hull and the front of its turret white for camouflage.

This made all the German tanks look very ugly, but sometimes on the battlefield, things were just that helpless—good-looking things seemed to be no different from seeking death, while ugly things could survive. Almost no one chose to look good, because everyone wanted to live.

“How was the meeting? Have the higher-ups decided to attack?” Andre was on the tank, using a bundle of branches to clear the snow from the roof. He saw Rein return from a distance and asked, “What’s the mission?”

“We set off at 1 PM sharp. Just follow the troops forward. The mission is simple: march… through this endless forest,” Rein said, stepping on the towing hook on the front of the tank and climbing onto his vehicle. He looked at the other crews around him who were all making their final preparations and leaned against the turret. “Baumann, Clark, warm up the vehicle.”

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Bruce quipped from the side. “You’re getting more and more of General Guderian’s ‘style’ now!”

Bruce was wearing a pure white snow camouflage smock, which even had an integrated windproof hood. But the smock didn’t look very clean now. There were some oil stains on the chest, and the sleeves were already worn to a near-grey color. Rein glanced at him, feeling it was a pity for such a nice piece of clothing, pursed his lips, and said nothing.

“Hey, Commander! What’s with that attitude?” Bruce was clearly hurt by Rein’s disdainful look and cried out in a slightly aggrieved tone.

“Rein thinks that outfit of yours affects your aura,” Clark laughed from the side. “If we make it to France, the French girls won’t be willing to sleep with you when they see you.”

Bruce was taken aback, then seemed to have thought of something important. “Damn! I forgot to buy a new shirt.”

A bonfire was lit next to the tank, and soon the melted snow was running down the tank’s fenders. Rein got into the tank, hung his headset around his neck, fixed his throat microphone, checked a few important parts, and then, with one hand on the headset and the other pressing the talk switch, he said, “Tank 113 is warmed up and ready to start at any time. Testing communication system. If you receive, please reply. If you receive, please reply.”

“This is tank 112. Your voice is too much like a woman’s. I really want to send you a floral dress,” Marcus’s voice came through the headset, followed by the laughter of several other commanders.

Rein didn’t get angry and laughed along with them. “Watch your ass, Miss Marcus! If you get hit, I’ll be happy to help the French put another shell into you.” His words were full of ambiguity, and the laughter of the other commanders in the headset grew louder.

“Alright! Stop joking around. Start your tanks! Move out to the designated positions,” the voice of the company commander, Carter, came through.

All the tanks trembled, making a “clanging” sound of metal lightly rubbing and colliding. Soon, all these tanks began to move slowly, heading toward the forest not far away.

“Hey, Captain. Do you think French girls like German men?” a commander asked with a lewd smile over the intercom.

“They don’t like German men like you,” another commander replied with a laugh before Carter could speak.

“We’re going to go poke the Frenchmen’s asses,” Marcus chuckled.

Rein also smiled and, holding his intercom, replied, “Maybe. Maybe it’s the French who will be poking our asses.”

“If you all have nothing better to do, then look up,” Carter said over the intercom. “Our planes have arrived. Don’t get accidentally taken out by our own side.”

“Spread the national flag on top of the tank. Hurry up!” With a command, everyone started to get busy again, spreading the German swastika flags they had in their vehicles on top of the tank turrets. Some even waved at the sky.

“You know, the air force is quite punctual this time,” Marcus said, looking at the sky, his body swaying with the tank.

This offensive plan had been drawn up after the Reich High Command had coordinated with all the various branches of the service. It was naturally on a completely different level than the ad-hoc meetings of the various branches during the Polish campaign. With Führer Akado personally presiding, the various branches had achieved an unprecedented level of unified combat coordination. Even the pocket watches of the commanders at all levels had been synchronized with Akado’s watch.

“Mm, they’re very punctual,” Rein also said, leaning against his hatch and looking at the sky, watching the fighter planes in groups of three and five form a dense formation and fly toward the distant sky. He took out the tin box from his breast pocket, tipped another piece of chocolate into his palm, carefully put the box away, and tossed the chocolate into his mouth to chew.

The tank crashed through bushes and slender little trees, its tracks churning up the somewhat muddy earth. The cars and horses following behind struggled to follow the ruts left by the tank tracks. The column of the entire panzer division stretched for several kilometers.

The 3rd SS Panzer Division led the way, followed by the 1st Panzer Division, and behind them were the mechanized infantry. And on their left flank was the 5th Light Panzer Corps under the command of von Rundstedt. On their right flank was the famous 7th Panzer Corps under the command of Rommel. Nearly half of Germany’s armored forces were here. They were to pass through the Ardennes mountains and, in one go, penetrate deep into the French heartland along the valleys.

Soon, at a little after 4 PM, the troops stopped to rest. Rein saw the panzergrenadiers from the division headquarters hastily retreating from the front. On two off-road vehicles were stretchers placed side by side, on which lay groaning, wounded soldiers.

“Have they made contact up front?” Marcus asked, stuffing a hardtack biscuit into his mouth, his words muffled, to Rein who was standing to the side watching the medics treat the wounded.

Rein nodded. “Does that even need to be asked? Unless you think they started a firefight over lunch. Otherwise, why would they be wounded?”

A short while later, a grenadier officer came over and briefed the stopped tankers on the problems they might encounter. He used a fallen large tree as a table, spread out a local map, and introduced it to the commanders gathered around him. “The higher-ups have ordered your company to support our attack. I’ll briefly explain the situation just now: we were attacked by the Belgians here and here. They have constructed simple defensive positions and may have one or two anti-tank guns—but don’t worry, the caliber shouldn’t be too large.”

“Are you sure it’s two? Not one or more?” Carter asked with a frown. As a tank company commander, he had to understand the battlefield situation as much as possible. The further they had fought in the Polish campaign, the more everyone had come to understand a simple truth: recklessness was tantamount to suicide. Only by making reasonable tactical arrangements could everyone survive.

“They knocked out one of our armored cars, and then the machine guns opened fire. We didn’t see any tanks. In fact, we speculate that in this kind of bushy terrain, they would probably deploy a crossfire…” The officer looked very experienced. It seemed he was also a veteran who had fought in the tough battles of the Polish campaign.

“About how many men?” Rein asked, tilting his head to look at the map, asking the question he was most concerned about.

“I’m really not sure. We were attacked while on the march and could only retreat first. Our retreat was not slow, but we still lost 13 men. I estimate their numbers are not small. They have at least three machine guns,” the officer said, pointing at the map. “They’ve probably formed a pocket-like defensive position and are very good at ambushes.”

The rumbling of explosions was heard in the distance. It seemed the 150mm artillery had begun its retaliatory fire. The very earth trembled with the shelling. Listening to the sound of the cannons and looking at the groaning wounded, everyone’s mood seemed not to be very good.

“114 and 115 will lead. Rein, you are responsible for the left flank; Marcus, you and I will guard the right. The grenadiers will be covered in the middle,” Carter said, assigning tasks. “The anti-tank gun that has already been spotted is for tank 114. Charge straight through and destroy their defensive positions. Use the hull machine gun to drive them out of their cover. The rest will be left to the grenadiers.”

“No problem,” the grenadier commander said with a nod.

“Check your ammunition one more time. Load the tank cannons,” Carter commanded loudly. “Unload the extra fuel and the daily necessities piled on the tanks and hand them over to the battalion for safekeeping. Keep the intercoms working properly. Mount up.”

“Tank 113 is ready,” Rein’s tank had already started up.

“All normal here at Marcus’s,” tank 112 also replied.

“Tank 114 is good.” “Tank 115 has no problem.”

“Move out!”