Chapter 278: I Can’t Hear You

Advanced chapter at my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/c/caleredhair

“Things shouldn’t be this simple,” Rein said, his face pressed against the commander’s periscope, carefully observing the surrounding situat

“Things shouldn’t be this simple,” Rein said, his face pressed against the commander’s periscope, carefully observing the surrounding situation. He then placed his hand on Andre’s shoulder. This was a habit he had developed over a long period of combat. If something urgent happened, he would squeeze Andre’s shoulder hard, and then at least Andre would know it was time to fire.

“Are you saying the French fled too quickly? They’ve always fled quickly,” Andre replied as he slowly traversed the turret.

“No, this is different. This was their only chance to stop us. So it’s impossible for them to give up so easily,” Rein said as he observed his surroundings. “Our combat engineers were building the pontoon bridge. They knew about it long ago. They had two hours to prepare, yet they didn’t even put up a decent fight.”

“Are you saying that tank we took out doesn’t count?” Andre asked with a snort.

“I can’t say for sure. In any case, I have a bad feeling,” Rein said with a frown.

He took an MP-44 assault rifle from its rack, then checked the bullets in the drum magazine, and stuffed the binoculars hanging on his chest into his collar. He worked the bolt and then said to Andre, “Load armor-piercing! Stay on alert at all times! Baumann… go up that slope over there, and then find a concealed position. Andre, you take command for the time being. Pay attention and cover me.”

As he spoke, he took off his intercom headset and hung it in a handy place. He then picked up two hand grenades from a storage compartment and hung them on his breast pocket.

After he had assigned the tasks and prepared everything, he pushed open the tank’s hatch and quickly climbed out. Although the French army was in retreat, bullets were still striking near Rein. He jumped off the tank, found a place to crouch, and squinted to look around. Only then did he discover that one of his epaulets had been shot off by a bullet.

Raising an eyebrow, Rein ran in a crouch all the way to a large rock. There lay the bodies of two French soldiers. It was an abandoned French position. He leaned against the rock, took out his binoculars, and observed the area he could see, but did not find anything suspicious.

Three French soldiers climbed out of a trench not far away, trying to escape. Rein raised the assault rifle in his hand and pulled the trigger in that direction. With a few shots, “Thump! Thump-thump!”, a cloud of white smoke kicked up in that spot. The three French soldiers fell to the ground and never got up again.

Rein rolled over, went around the large rock he was using for cover, and jumped into the trench the French had dug. As his feet landed, he found that he had stepped right on the body of a French soldier whose head had been shot through.

He moved through the narrow trench, hunched over, and soon came to a T-junction. He pressed himself against the wall and glanced around another corner, and saw that the French soldiers there were firing fiercely at tank 112, which was about to cross the river.

Without a second thought, Rein braced his gun against the trench wall, then took a hand grenade with one hand, pulled the pin, and threw it around the corner. He then turned back, picked up the gun he had braced on the ground, and just as he did, the hand grenade exploded in the trench behind him, sending out a cloud of black smoke and debris.

He rushed into the thick smoke and put another bullet into a French soldier who was struggling in agony on the ground. He then continued to walk forward. A French soldier was fleeing in a great hurry. He raised his gun, aimed at the man’s back, and shot him.

He still did not dare to expose his head, because he was afraid that a sniper from his own side on the opposite bank would take a shot at him. So Rein continued to move through the French trenches, hunched over, until he discovered a French command post. Only then did he slow his pace.

He leaned against the wall of the trench and waited patiently at another corner. Here was a French mortar firing position, set up in a deeply dug trench. And next to it was a French command post. It looked quite large, and there were still telephone lines connected to it. It was probably an important frontline command post. Including the officers, there were no less than ten French soldiers inside.

Rein didn’t think much more about it and walked in boldly, holding his assault rifle. A French soldier carrying a mortar round stared at him, dumbfounded, unable to say a word. Rein walked over and, under the cover of the sound of cannons, fired two shots at him. The man fell unwillingly, his eyes wide, blood gushing from his chest.

But he was not alone, because soon a second French soldier fell. As Rein got closer and closer, more French soldiers discovered this uninvited guest and prepared to draw their guns to fight back, but they were ultimately a step too late. Rein, with his MP-44 assault rifle, was clearly more suited for trench warfare than the French’s bolt-action rifles. The first French soldier who had fallen to the ground was not yet completely dead. He saw the young man in the German officer’s uniform, holding a gun and firing fiercely, cutting down one French soldier after another.

A French officer without a steel helmet saw the tragic scene at the mortar position outside, where the seven or eight infantrymen had all been cut down. And amidst the swirling smoke, a young man in a German panzer NCO’s uniform was slowly walking over.

This French officer was so frightened that he hurried to reach for the pistol tucked in his belt, but he was a step too slow. A French bayonet flew over and plunged directly into his eye. He let out a tragic scream, clutched his face, and fell to the ground, and then did not move again.

The several French officers around him were taken aback for a moment, then hurried to find cover, but the sound of gunfire followed, and the few French officers who had just bent down fell to the ground with tragic cries. Only two were left, who raised their hands in fright.

“My God! I surrender! Don’t shoot!” one of the French officers shouted as he raised his hands.

“Two… French… officers. I… am… lucky,” Rein said in broken French. “I… ask questions. You… answer. Mm?”

“Alright! Alright! Just don’t shoot,” the two French officers hurriedly nodded.

Rein walked into the shelter, pulled the French bayonet from the corpse on the ground, wiped it twice on the corpse’s chest, and then stabbed it into the map on the table. He put one foot on a chair and, with the dark muzzle of his gun pointing at the two men, asked, “Why, defense, not strengthened?”

Rein had been trained in French. Although he spoke it strangely, he had no problem understanding military terms. This was also the result of the training methods and time. In order to train qualified personnel in a short period of time, Akado preferred the cramming method of teaching. So there were many “mute” Russian, French, and English speakers within the German army.

“We have set up a trap here. Soon, large-caliber artillery will attack the entire riverbank… There are red marks on the map. The firing data for these shellings has already been calculated…” the leading French officer said, pointing to the map and explaining the French plan with a stammer.

“Rat-tat!” Rein pulled the trigger, killing the speaking French lieutenant. The other French officer screamed in terror and begged for mercy over and over again. “My God! My heavens! Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I’m begging you! What else do you want to know? I’ll tell you everything!”

“What he said… I… don’t believe. It’s too… simple. You… say it again,” Rein said, pointing his gun at the almost-mad French officer and continuing to ask.

“He was telling the truth! I swear to God! I only know this much! Please, don’t shoot…” the French officer said, crying as he spoke, and then knelt down before Rein.

“Rat-tat!” Rein pulled the trigger with an expressionless face. The MP-44 assault rifle riddled the French officer, who had been crying and begging a second before, with holes. Rein walked over, kicked the still-twitching corpse, and sighed. “Sorry. I promised that grenadier I’d kill a few more. And, as you can see, I don’t have time to take prisoners.”

He carefully collected the maps, then walked out with his gun. He casually picked up a hand grenade from the body of a French infantryman who had fallen at the door, pulled the pin, and threw it into the command post. He then continued to walk out without looking back.

As he walked out of the French command post, the explosion was heard. He shook the dust from his shoulders, glanced again at the half of his epaulet that had been shot off, and, as he walked back, he took out the tin box from his breast pocket, tipped out a piece of chocolate candy, and threw it into his mouth. Now he had to get the entire German bridgehead defense force out of there, otherwise the French heavy artillery fire would directly destroy the entire beachhead position.

But he was a step too late. Just as he was preparing to rush back to his tank, the French shelling began. Large-caliber shells tore through the air with a piercing howl and directly slammed into the area near the German pontoon bridge. It just so happened that the third German Panther tank was driving off the pontoon bridge and was directly hit by a heavy artillery shell.

In Rein’s eyes, which were finally filled with a trace of shock, the turret of the tank with the number 111 painted on it was blown into the sky. The entire chassis of the tank was twisted and shattered. Then all the surrounding soldiers fell into pools of blood. A huge explosion followed, and the shockwave, carrying river sand and water droplets, flew out dozens of meters, striking his face with a stinging pain.

However, the French artillery was not rampant for long, because there were still German Stuka bombers on patrol in the sky. As soon as the French heavy artillery opened fire, they had exposed themselves. So the Stukas dived down and soon made the French artillery pay a heavy price.

But the German army on the riverbank was still in a mess. Those few heavy shells just now had cost the Germans a tank and more than thirty infantrymen in an instant.

When Rein returned to his tank, Andre was silent. Rein placed his gun on its rack, then silently put on his headset. Inside was the voice of the commander of tank 124, shouting over and over again, “Carter! Answer me! Captain!… I can’t hear you!…”