Chapter 298: Myth

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

“Boom!” The Panther tank once again spat a tongue of flame. Another French tank had its “guts ripped out,” and the entire tank cooked off, t

“Boom!” The Panther tank once again spat a tongue of flame. Another French tank had its “guts ripped out,” and the entire tank cooked off, the smoke from the explosion even obscuring the view of the tanks behind it.

The French tanks were not just standing there and taking a beating; they were also firing back frantically. Soon, Rein’s tank was hit by another shell. This one directly struck the rear of the tank, breaking off a section of the Panther’s exhaust pipe.

“Damn it, Andre! Keep firing. I’m going to go and see what’s happened to Clark,” Rein said, bending over and beginning to crawl toward Clark’s seat in the front. This passage was not long, but it was not clear. Most of the time, they piled junk here, things like buckets and brushes.

And just as Rein was ducking and crawling to Clark’s seat, the tank shells of both sides were still attacking each other. Shells blew off all sorts of things hanging on the outside of this Panther tank. The front right idler wheel had already fallen off to the side. The right track had also long since fallen to the ground, lying like a twisted, lifeless serpent. And on the side armor of the turret, just a few dozen centimeters away from his position inside the tank, was a shallow crater from a shell hit, a shocking sight.

Rein squeezed through the narrow “passage” and, with his upper body, reached the radio operator’s cabin. He found that the place was already covered in blood. A shell had pierced the side armor plate and was embedded in it. But this shell had only shattered the nearby steel, creating a very sharp piece of shrapnel.

This flying piece of shrapnel had hit Clark’s head and chest, ricocheted several times there, and then had flown toward the rear, piercing Rein’s trouser leg and then hitting Andre’s shoulder.

By the light coming in through the pierced side armor, Rein could not see Clark’s injuries clearly. So he tried hard to open the hatch, which should have been tightly screwed shut. As a result, with just a slight effort, the entire hatch fell off.

Looking carefully at the hatch in his hand, Rein stood there in a daze. Suddenly, a bullet hit the edge of the hatch he was holding, making a crisp sound as it ricocheted away. Rein looked in astonishment at the deflected bullet, then threw the hatch to the side.

Only then did he see clearly that Clark was indeed beyond saving. From the wound that was still bleeding, it was easy to judge that he could no longer be saved. The only comfort was that he did not die alone; several dozen French tankers had accompanied him in death. He had died a worthy death, because just as the Panzerlied sang, at the final moment of his departure, he at least had an iron coffin.

“Baumann! You get out of here! There’s nothing for you to do anymore,” Rein shouted. “The tank has lost its mobility. You’re no use staying here.”

“Boom!” A tank shell exploded nearby, kicking up a shower of mud. Through the hole that had been pierced, Rein could see the black smoke from the shell’s explosion. But he paid it no mind and shouted again at Baumann, “Baumann, you get out of here! There’s nothing for you to do anymore.”

“Captain! I’m staying here because this is my tank! I don’t want to leave my most trusted partner at the final moment,” Baumann replied with a laugh. “Hurry up and go, Rein. You’re the one among us who should leave.”

Rein shook his head. He knew that his subordinates were a bunch of madmen, so he did not try to persuade them any further. He just hunched over and crawled back to his commander’s position. Just as his head entered the turret, his tank was hit again by a French tank. A French shell hit his commander’s panoramic observation window, blowing the entire hatch far, far away.

Fortunately, the shattered iron fragments did not enter the tank. He was thankful in his heart. After all, his little life had just been about to leave him. Now he didn’t have to close any hatch. So he commanded loudly, “Continue firing! Keep firing for me!”

Bruce, stripped to the waist, his sinewy muscles gleaming with sweat, gritted his teeth and continued to stuff a shell into the breech. He found that his hands were already shaking violently. It was unknown whether it was from fear or from too much adrenaline, but in any case, he now felt his whole body trembling.

“Boom!” The Panther tank fired again. The hull trembled slightly. The shell whistled as it flew toward the frontal armor of the French tank opposite, then easily pierced it, directly cutting the driver inside in two, then breaking the leg bone of the commander in the back, and continuing to fly to the rear until it hit the gasoline engine and finally stopped. But at this time, this French tank also shattered due to the explosion of its gasoline engine, turning into a pile of parts that rolled in all directions.

Rein knew that they were creating a myth, that they were using their lives to write a myth that would be difficult for future German panzer troops to surpass. In just 40 minutes, they had actually destroyed 19 French B1 and Somua S35 tanks, and had also destroyed 3 armored cars—a combat record that many tank crews would not be able to complete even by the time they were destroyed.

What was even more terrifying was that this record was still constantly climbing. Almost every two minutes, they would refresh their own record again. Soon, they had destroyed their 20th French tank of the day, and then the 21st.

They had used the favorable terrain, using the destroyed enemy tanks to form roadblocks, forcing the enemy tanks to fight them in single numbers or in smaller groups, fully utilizing the performance advantages of the Panther tank in armor and firepower, and creating a glorious tank battle record.

In any respect, this was a myth, so it was not that Rein did not know how to be humble. This was a tank battle god-myth of a single tank taking on a full 21 French tanks, a myth that would be repeatedly studied in the classic battle examples of tank warfare by later generations, a myth of a 21-to-0 combat record.

If it were the Rein of before, he would definitely be happy, cheering for being able to survive, for being able to continue to kill. But when he found that his hands were stained with the blood of his radio operator, Clark, he really couldn’t laugh. He didn’t know why, but he felt somewhat angry. This emotion was very subtle for him, because in the past few years, he had not had this feeling for a long time.

Under the influence of this annoyed mood, he continued to order Andre to fire. He wanted to avenge the German grenadiers who had died in agony on the beds of the field hospital. He wanted to avenge the radio operator, Clark, who had just died and whose body was not yet cold.

So he had to kill, to kill without stopping. To use slaughter to make up for the panic in his heart, to use slaughter to soothe those bloody wounds, to use slaughter to firm his own beliefs, to use slaughter to prove that he was still alive.

Alive! Yes, alive! Rein’s originally somewhat unfocused gaze suddenly became firm. He looked at Andre beside him and commanded loudly, “Two o’clock! Traverse the turret! Destroy that B1 tank… Baumann, try it. If the hull can still move, turn to the right.”

“Boom!” A French shell hit the Panther’s frontal armor, finally piercing this steel plate that had held for so long and hitting the transmission inside. The Panther tank had lost its power and could no longer move its position.

“Rein! I’m out of options,” Baumann said loudly, looking at the smoking machinery. What he didn’t say was that a control lever, pushed out by the great force, had almost smashed his head.

“Boom!” Andre’s cannon returned fire, but it did not hit any target. Because of the huge vibration, the error of this tank’s gunsight was already very large. Now he could no longer hit a target with the gunsight and could only rely on his own feeling.

He slightly adjusted the turret and then fired again, firing his 39th shell of the day. A shot hit the French tank opposite. But soon he could no longer rely on experience to shoot, because a French shell hit the front armor of the Panther’s turret, striking less than five centimeters from the gunsight. This fatal blow completely destroyed Andre’s cannon sight, making it impossible for him to fire another shot.

Due to the huge vibration, Andre’s head had hit the gunsight and was beginning to bleed. He leaned back in his chair, gasping for breath, and then said to Rein beside him, “Sorry… I… did my best. There’s nothing we can do now.”

Bruce had also become unemployed because Andre had lost his gunsight. He slumped onto the mostly empty ammunition storage rack, panting for breath, unable to say a word. But from his eyes, it could be seen that he had already put life and death out of his mind.

A brief silence fell over the entire tank. Bruce and Andre both looked at the silent Rein, as if waiting for his final command.

Andre was already wounded, and Bruce was almost exhausted. Baumann in the front only had a P-38 pistol to defend himself. Now, in the entire tank, only Rein was still capable of fighting. And as a tank commander, his dismounted combat capability was much higher than that of an ordinary infantryman.

Taking an MP-44 assault rifle from the turret, Rein looked at the two crew members who were no longer able to fight and raised the corners of his mouth in a confident smile. “You’ve completed your mission! Abandon the tank.”

He looked at the bullets in the drum magazine, then reloaded it onto the gun, worked the bolt, and continued, “As for me, I still want to continue the fight. I can’t let Clark die here for nothing, can I?”

“Rein, we did our best! Even if you go out, you can’t change anything,” Andre said, closing his eyes. “It was an honor to know you.”

“It was an honor to serve with you all,” Rein said with a smile. He then prepared to climb out. As he pulled himself up with the handhold, he said, “But I have to hold on until the last moment. I will do everything I can to protect you so you can live!”

“If… this is… our… end, then… it’s also a very… wonderful ending,” Bruce said, gasping for breath from the side.