Chapter 297: Continue Firing

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“Twelfth armor-piercing round!” Bruce shouted. As strong as he was, he was now panting and drenched in sweat. He didn’t even have time to ta

“Twelfth armor-piercing round!” Bruce shouted. As strong as he was, he was now panting and drenched in sweat. He didn’t even have time to take off his already soaked jacket. He could only mechanically pull one armor-piercing round after another from the ammunition rack and then stuff them into the breech.

Andre’s sweat ran down from his eyebrows into his deep-set Germanic eyes. He didn’t even have time to wipe it away. There were more and more French tanks, and they were trying to use their tanks to push aside the wreckage of the tanks that had already become roadblocks. His shooting began to require traversing the turret, and his hit rate was dropping.

Yes, it was dropping. Although the Panther tank was far from reaching its limit, as crew members, they seemed to have already reached their physical limits. The 12th armor-piercing round had landed next to the enemy tank and had not hit the target. It wasn’t until the 13th armor-piercing round that another French tank was destroyed.

“Baumann, reverse! Move position! It’s not safe here anymore!” Rein commanded loudly.

The tank shook again, dodging the fire from a French tank. Rein had already seen through his commander’s periscope that a French B1 tank had pushed aside the wreckage of a Somua S35 on one side and had charged out from the other.

“One o’clock! Traverse the turret! B1 tank!” Rein commanded loudly. But he was a step too late. A French tank shell hit the side of his turret, blowing away a section of spare tank track that was hanging on it. Because of the angle, the shell did not penetrate the turret’s side armor, but it still made Rein a little dizzy.

The Panther tank continued to rotate its turret until its cannon was pointing at the turning B1 tank. An armor-piercing round quickly flew into the front of this B1 tank. The instantaneous explosion sent the tank’s turret flying into the air. The violent cook-off even sent some rivets flying onto Rein’s Panther.

On a small road to their rear flank, a Somua S35 tank drove up a slope, revealing its ferocious turret. This was exactly the weakest point of the Panther tank’s armor, its rear. Apart from the slightly sloped angle, it was a perfect flanking route.

But in a trench under a small tree nearby, two German anti-tank troopers were aiming at this slope with their Panzerfausts. As soon as the Somua S35 tank showed its head, they had spotted their target. But because of the limited armor penetration of the Panzerfaust, they decided to wait until the tank was a little closer before opening fire.

The French Somua S35 tank climbed the slope bit by bit, aiming its 47mm rapid-fire cannon at the Panther. An armor-piercing round, trailing flames, flew toward the Panther, but it hit the basket on the back of the Panther’s turret, shredding the tents and canned food inside.

With this shot, the Somua S35 was also constantly advancing. Its vulnerable lower hull was also exposed. The two German anti-tank troopers unceremoniously pierced it with their Panzerfausts. The Somua S35 tank stopped there, smoking, motionless like a dead behemoth.

And at this time, the Panther tank had already destroyed its 15th target of the day. The French tanks were still charging the German positions endlessly. A machine gun nest that had been firing continuously had been destroyed by the French army, and in many sectors, the German troops were retreating.

“Clark! Cover our infantry with the machine gun!” Rein commanded loudly. “Baumann, keep reversing! Keep reversing!”

Their Panther tank retreated bit by bit, once again adjusting its position, and then once again fired and hit a French armored car. This was its 16th kill of the day.

But no one cared about these things, because there were still endless French tanks charging out of this pass. Rein and his crew could only fire frantically, eliminating one enemy tank after another to ensure that they could survive.

On the other side of the slope, de Gaulle was dumbfounded by his losses. In a short period of time, he had actually lost 3 armored cars and 16 tanks. This was almost a quarter of all the tanks he had deployed on the offensive line. He was a little flustered, having not expected at all that attacking such a small pass would cause him such heavy losses.

One had to know that the nearly 80 tanks and armored cars in his hands were the last force he could concentrate for battle. The rest of his tanks had to be deployed dispersedly on the long defensive line. And the reason de Gaulle had prepared so many tanks and armored cars was actually that he wanted this force to penetrate in the direction of Stonne after tearing open the defenses here.

But at this small pass, the enemy’s defensive line was still intact, and yet he had already lost a full two companies of tanks. This frustration was so suffocating that he had the urge to vomit blood. Just a moment ago, he had thought he had found a brilliant move, but now it seemed to be a complete failure that was sending his soldiers to their deaths.

“Tell the tanks of the 1st Regiment to keep charging! This breach must be opened for me within ten minutes!” de Gaulle commanded loudly, pointing his finger at the burning tanks in the distance. “Send in another 20 tanks! I don’t believe their defensive line is made of iron!”

Another team of French tanks began their charge. Their tracks kicked up the muddy, snowy earth around them, and their engines let out a pleasant roar. With a dark mass of infantry, they rumbled toward their target.

“Rein! This can’t go on! We have to retreat!” Baumann shouted as he drove the tank in reverse again. And Andre, who should have been saying this, was still concentrating on aiming at his next target.

“Armor-piercing! Bruce!” Andre shouted.

“I… know, I’m… getting… it!” Bruce replied loudly, panting. The stuffy environment, combined with the heavy physical labor, made the sweat drip from the tip of his nose to his feet.

“Boom!” The Panther tank fired again. The shell did not hit its target but flew over the tank and hit a large tree on the side. The entire tree trunk was snapped, and it fell toward the French tank. Unfortunately, it was a bit unrealistic to expect a large tree to destroy a tank. The tree rolled off the top of the tank to the side, but it did block the advance of another French tank on the other side.

But not far away, another French tank pushed aside the wreckage of a tank and charged out, once again creating a pincer attack situation. The entire battle situation was becoming more and more chaotic. Rein stared through his periscope at a French tank firing at him. The shell hit the front of his turret, leaving a deep pit in the front gun mantlet.

“Baumann, reverse and turn at the same time! We’re retreating to the highway, and then we’ll concentrate on the French tanks in front!” Rein gave the combat order. The tank also began to move.

Because a tank’s accuracy is poor when it’s moving, Andre did not rush to fire. And Bruce, on the side, took this opportunity to take off his jacket. He wiped the sweat from his face with the sweat-soaked jacket and then casually threw it on an empty ammunition rack on the side.

“Front! A French tank! Fire!” Rein’s voice was already a bit hoarse, but he still gave the combat order loudly. Looking at the French tanks that were constantly pouring into the gap, a feeling of release suddenly came over him—Could it be that my life is about to end here?

“Boom!” The Panther tank fired again, piercing a French tank that had already seen the dawn of victory in front of them.

“Boom!” On the other side, the French B1 tank that had pushed aside the wreckage fired again. The shell directly pierced the side skirt of the Panther tank, sending a whole piece of iron plate flying far, far away. But this shell also failed to penetrate the Panther’s side armor and only damaged the shovel and axe that were hanging there.

“Ignore the side! Continue firing at the targets in front!” Rein shouted loudly. With his shout, a tank shell flew out of the Panther’s barrel with a loud roar and once again accurately destroyed a French Somua S35 tank.

Of course, this time, the French did not waste their opportunity. A B1 tank hit the Panther with its turret-mounted 47mm rapid-fire cannon. This time, it did not hit the Panther’s hull, but the tank’s track and wheel.

“Rein! Our tank’s track is damaged! The right-side idler isn’t responding! I can’t control this tank to reverse anymore!” Baumann said loudly.

“Stay calm! Don’t panic! Andre, keep firing forward!” Rein said loudly.

“Boom!” Another shell hit Rein’s tank. Even through his headset, he could tell that something had penetrated his tank. He could even feel an object pierce his trousers and fly past his calf.

“We’ve been penetrated!” Baumann screamed in terror.

“Boom!” Andre ignored the chaotic problems and continued to fire his cannon. The shell once again flew toward its target, once again destroying an unlucky French tank. Even Andre himself had lost count of how many French tanks he had destroyed. Only now did he notice that a piece of shrapnel was stuck in his shoulder, and blood was flowing out uncontrollably.

“Bruce! Shell!” he roared, only glancing at the small piece of shrapnel.

“I’m… loading!” Bruce complained loudly, pushing a shell into the breech. “I’m… loading!”

“Rein! Clark’s been hit! There’s blood everywhere! We have to do something!” Baumann’s voice came through, trembling even in the headset.

“Clark, are you there? Clark?” Rein shouted twice with a frown, but there was no answer. He looked at Andre, whose shoulder was wounded, and once again shouted loudly, “Andre! Continue firing!”