Chapter 283: The Battle for the Pontoon Bridge

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Sedan, this historically famous city, was built on the Meuse River, about 60 miles from the border region. The population of the central urb

Sedan, this historically famous city, was built on the Meuse River, about 60 miles from the border region. The population of the central urban area was only 13,000 people. Logically, it should have been just an unknown small city.

But this city had become famous because of war. During the First World War, it was occupied by the German army for a full four years. In 1870, it became the site of France’s greatest military humiliation—Emperor Napoleon III and his troops were defeated and accepted an unconditional surrender here.

And this time, the French had lost Sedan again, and lost it very cleanly and neatly, without even putting up a decent resistance that could make the German army feel any pressure. Compared to the previous times, the French were even more pathetic this time.

But there was one German frontline general who was even more pathetic. This person was the Führer’s trusted and favored general, Rommel. In the Polish campaign, he had commanded the German 7th Panzer Corps to rampage through northern Poland, achieving a glorious combat record and thus winning the reputation of being one of the “Imperial Twins.”

But this time he had been put on the shelf. Yes, undoubtedly put on the shelf. He and his 7th Panzer Corps had been placed in an insignificant position, with no important combat missions at all. They were just advancing with the troops, constantly on the march.

The mission given to him from above was very clear: to let him rest and reorganize his troops, to follow the main army west, and to join the battle at the most critical moment. So the famous German 7th Panzer Corps had actually become the tag-along for other units.

All of this made Rommel extremely depressed. He was on the verge of collapsing from the suppression. He had always felt that he himself was the center of the world, the disaster of the enemy. But now he had to face a very cruel problem: there was no battle to be fought.

When he heard the news that the 2nd Panzer Corps had occupied Sedan, when he heard that the 3rd SS Panzer Division had crossed the river at Sedan, he finally wrote a personal letter to Akado. In the letter, he expressed his eagerness for battle.

Soon, he received a reply. The Führer had written him back an enthusiastic letter. However, what moved him the most was that at the beginning, Akado had asked about his physical condition and had instructed him to eat on time to maintain a strong physique to command his troops in continuous combat. His stomach problems had always bothered him, but for this little secret to be seen through and to be comforted and instructed was a very happy thing.

And he had gotten the result he wanted. Brauchitsch had ordered the German army to carry out “Operation Sickle Cut.” His troops were ordered to take the lead, and the 1st and 2nd Panzer Corps, which had been leading the way all along, were now responsible for covering his rear.

This young general was now standing on the side of the pontoon bridge at Sedan, watching his armored forces cross the bridge at the fastest possible speed. And not far from him, an 88mm anti-aircraft gun stood there, its long barrel pointing to the sky.

“General! The 2nd SS Panzer Division has completely crossed the river. The 7th Panzer Division is now crossing the pontoon bridge,” a staff officer reported to Rommel, holding a record report. “This morning, we received a large-scale resupply. Fuel and ammunition are very sufficient, and other materials are enough for us to use for five days.”

“What about the intelligence from the aerial reconnaissance?” Rommel asked, watching a Panther tank speed across the pontoon bridge, followed by a truck pulling a 150mm cannon, which also crossed the widened and reinforced pontoon without slowing down.

“The latest intelligence provided by the air liaison officer an hour ago shows that the French forces are assembling, but the other side lacks heavy weapons. The Stuka bomber units have carried out bombing raids on these French assembly areas, and the effect is being evaluated,” the staff officer said, looking at the data in his hand.

“Send a telegram to the headquarters of the 2nd SS Panzer Division. Order them to send out a reconnaissance detachment to scout the area within a 30-kilometer radius. If they encounter small groups of French troops resisting, annihilate them on the spot,” Rommel said after thinking for a moment, his eyes narrowed. “Tell the motorized infantry division behind us to speed up. We have no time to waste.”

“Yes, sir!” The staff officer saluted at attention, then turned and left.

A few minutes after the staff officer had left, the piercing sound of the air raid siren was sounded. Rommel looked at the distant sky. There, the fighter planes of the German Air Force were constantly tearing at a dense swarm of British bombers.

From time to time, a plane, trailing thick black smoke, would fall from the sky and then break apart in mid-air, exploding violently. But the piercing sound of the air raid siren continued, and the surrounding German anti-aircraft gunners were busy, carrying shells and arranging them in a row in a handy position.

“Heil Führer, General,” a captain from the ground-based air defense forces came over, gave Rommel a military salute, and then said anxiously, “The battle alarm has been sounded here. Please follow my men to the designated shelter.”

“What?” Rommel pointed to the imposing 88mm cannon behind him, looked at the captain who was urging him to take shelter, and said with a smile, “Captain, this is an anti-aircraft cannon right here! Do you think there is any place safer than where I am standing?”

“General! I need to be responsible for your safety! So you had better leave here with my men!” the captain said again, stubbornly.

“Captain, I think you have misunderstood one thing! Your purpose here is to protect the absolute security of that pontoon bridge, not to protect a general like me. Don’t you know that for the outcome of the entire campaign, my personal safety is negligible?”

“But,” the captain wanted to say more.

But Rommel interrupted him. “I will stand right here. I want to see how you repel the enemy’s attack! I want to see with my own eyes how you protect that important pontoon bridge!”

“As you command, General!” The captain had no choice but to give a military salute, then walked to the side of the anti-aircraft gun next to Rommel and began to lay out his tasks. Sure enough, he did not look at Rommel again, as if this general of the armored forces did not exist at all.

Although their losses were huge, the British bomber group still gradually approached the Germans’ pontoon bridge. The orders these bombers had received were to destroy the bridge at all costs and to stop the German army’s advance. And they carried out this order with the most loyal attitude.

Just a moment ago, the German fighters had already shot down nearly 20 British planes, but these crazed British pilots were still constantly charging the German Air Force’s defensive line, and had finally dragged the German fighters to the sky near the pontoon bridge.

“Rat-tat! Rat-tat!” A Bofors anti-aircraft gun in the distance opened fire. With its high rate of fire, this anti-aircraft gun fired desperately at the sky. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust around it. Rommel could clearly see the position of that defensive position without needing binoculars.

“Boom!” Unexpectedly, the 88mm cannon behind Rommel opened fire. The huge sound startled him. As the flames shot out of the barrel, the cannon’s body moved backward with the help of the recuperator and then quickly returned to its original position on the gun carriage. A unique little device at the breech helped the German gunner to complete the entire process of ejecting the shell. The breech opened, and a heavy shell casing fell to the ground, making a clanging sound.

“Load!” a young fire control officer commanded loudly.

An artilleryman, holding a shell, came to the gun position, quickly stuffed the shell into the chamber, and then a soldier on the side quickly closed the breech. At the moment of closing, he shouted the command he had shouted countless times during training: “Ready!”

“Boom!” Without the slightest hesitation, this cannon fired again fiercely. Under Rommel’s gaze, it fired its second shell. Rommel quickly looked in the direction the muzzle was pointing and saw a plane being hit by the shell there. At an altitude of a thousand meters, it was enveloped in a ball of fire and instantly shattered into pieces.

“Target hit! Adjust the gun’s angle! Continue to load!” the young officer in charge of commanding this cannon shouted, lowering the binoculars in his hand.

Several artillerymen scrambled to turn the several rotating wheels of this 88mm cannon. The cannon began to turn rapidly, not looking clumsy at all. And in the process of turning, another shell was pushed into the chamber.

“Boom!” A British bomber dropped its first bomb of the day. As a result, it missed the pontoon bridge by at least 30 meters. The huge blast wave spread out on the bank, even creating ripples on the surface of the water, but it only left a deep, large crater on the bank and did not affect the work of the German combat engineers on the pontoon bridge at all.

“Boom!” The 88mm cannon beside Rommel fired again. The shell rose rapidly, trying to destroy anything that stood in its way. But this time, it did not hit a British plane, but flew straight into the sky and exploded not far away.

But the soldiers of the German air defense unit had once again adjusted the angle with extreme speed, loaded the shell, and fired another shell into the sky. Coordinated with the extremely high rate of fire of the Bofors anti-aircraft gun, the German anti-aircraft fire formed a dense anti-aircraft net in the sky above the pontoon bridge. Every British plane that crashed into this huge net was instantly shattered to pieces.

Rommel saw the soldiers of the German air force’s anti-aircraft artillery regiment sweating profusely. He silently watched these soldiers fire frantically at the sky. Under the efforts of the 40mm Bofors and the 88mm anti-aircraft guns, all 40 of the British bombers that had broken through the German fighters were shot down near the pontoon bridge.

He had personally witnessed the birth of an anti-aircraft ace. This anti-aircraft gun beside him had, in one hour, shot down 11 British bombers.

The efforts of these anti-aircraft gunners were not in vain. The pontoon bridge was safe and sound. Rommel’s steel army had passed through Sedan at the fastest possible speed, had crossed ahead of the German 1st Panzer Corps, which was on forward alert, and had charged to the very front of the entire German offensive force, appearing where they should be, on time.