Chapter 310: The Tiger Goes to War

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At the headquarters of the 3rd SS Panzer Division, Faehlich was listening to his 1st Panzer Regiment commander’s report on the combat situat

At the headquarters of the 3rd SS Panzer Division, Faehlich was listening to his 1st Panzer Regiment commander’s report on the combat situation near Laon. Due to Guderian’s rapid advance, Laon had fallen into the hands of the 3rd SS Panzer Division a few hours earlier. Using this city as a base, they were continuing to attack to the south.

To everyone’s surprise, the German army’s “limited reconnaissance” operation had advanced 90 kilometers without stopping. Guderian’s reconnaissance troops had accidentally captured Laon, and Rommel’s vanguard had accidentally reconnoitered the city of Cambrai.

To be honest, staring at the operational map brought by the 1st Panzer Regiment, Faehlich no longer knew what to do. The order to halt the advance had been given a day before. He had thought he could stop and get some rest, but who would have known that his division had been dragged forward by several reconnaissance units, and the momentum of the attack had not stopped until they reached Laon.

When he looked at the dwindling fuel reserves of his entire 3rd SS Panzer Division, he had the urge to grab the regimental and battalion commanders who were constantly on the attack and ask them, with a gun to their heads, “What on earth are you trying to do?”

The fuel was about to run out, and the ammunition was also in short supply. His armored forces were spread out on a defensive line stretching for more than ten kilometers, and the remaining offensive strength could only be in battalions or companies. If it weren’t for his superior, General Guderian, secretly instructing him to condone this attack, he would have long ago reported the reckless actions at the front to the Army High Command.

“The French are counter-attacking here, and here. We don’t have much fuel, so we have to use it sparingly,” the regimental commander said, pointing to the map and reporting to Faehlich. “General, the platoon of 1st Battalion’s Rein is now the only reserve we have. Can we send them up to reinforce the defensive line?”

You’ve already stretched the defensive line long enough, moved the entire unit far enough, are almost out of fuel, and almost out of ammunition, and only in this situation do you remember that you still have a division commander? Faehlich had an impulse to slap the 1st Regiment commander. He looked at the map and then said helplessly, “Even if General Guderian wanted to reinforce us now, we would have to hold on for several hours.”

“General, the French army has been thrown into disarray. They can’t organize an effective counter-attack now, so our flanks should be very safe,” the regimental commander said, pointing to a small river on the map and reporting to Faehlich. “Our mechanized infantry has organized a defensive line along here, but they have discovered French army tanks on the other side. So instead of waiting for them to attack, it would be better for us to organize an attack first.”

“Immediately order the 2nd Panzer Regiment to stop its advance to the west. We must rest and reorganize,” Faehlich said with a frown. “The division headquarters is running out of fuel. If we don’t want the tanks to become scrap metal, we need to wait for the fuel to be delivered here. I must be responsible for the entire 3rd SS Panzer Division! All decisions from now on must be made with caution.”

“Yes, General!” It was clear the 1st Regiment commander did not want to anger his direct superior. He replied at attention, then pointed to the map and continued to ask, “Then, General, shall we continue our counter-attack here?”

“Ten kilometers at the most! That is the maximum attack distance I am giving you!” Faehlich said, pointing to the highway on the map. “If you cross this highway, you will have to solve the problem of your lack of fuel yourself. Understand?”

“Understood, General,” the 1st Regiment commander saluted again. “Then I will go back to the regimental headquarters and organize the counter-attack.”

Soon, the plan for the counter-attack was sent to Rein’s unit. He needed to command his tank platoon, which consisted of only four tanks, to attack a French armored force that was assembling across a small stream after passing through a village.

Although their number of tanks was not large, everyone was full of confidence, because all along the way, whether it was the French defense or their counter-attacks, nothing had been able to stop their advance. This confidence came from a strong inner strength, and also from the glorious moments of the past.

They had once destroyed Poland in a few weeks and had occupied the Netherlands in a few days. They had destroyed French tanks by the dozens and hundreds, and then, driving the most advanced war machines in the world, they had passed the wreckage of those French B1 tanks at a speed of 35 miles per hour, rushing toward those almost undefended French cities.

“The motorcycle team of the reconnaissance company discovered the situation here. They saw about seven French tanks and some infantry assembling. If you count the cover of the buildings, there may be even more French tanks,” the battalion commander said, pointing to the village on the map. “After identification, there is at least one B1 tank, and three are S35 tanks. The rest are the almost harmless FT-17 Renaults.”

“Are there any anti-tank guns?” Rein had been attending the battalion’s tactical deployment meetings recently. This time, as the operational commander, he could not be absent. He pointed to a small slope near the village and asked, “If they set up a defensive position here, our attack will be at risk of having its flank exposed. Although from the distance, the threat is not great, I think it’s best not to take the risk.”

“One of our armored reconnaissance vehicles has been on that small slope all along. There are no French soldiers there. The French are clearly preparing to attack and have no intention of luring us into an ambush,” the battalion commander said with a smile.

The combat skills of the French army were becoming lower and lower as the battle progressed. Most of the French troops blocking the German army’s path were newly mobilized reserve divisions, lacking combat experience and a good command system. In front of the German army, they often collapsed at the first touch.

For example, this time, the French army had finally managed to rout all the way here and had barely gathered some forces to prepare for a counter-attack. But although they had learned to concentrate their forces and also knew the importance of tanks as a decisive weapon, they had not deployed reconnaissance and defensive forces on some of the important high grounds.

After fighting for so long, the French army still relied on two methods to stop the German army. The first was to rely on an absolute numerical advantage to push the German army back—this method had a very low success rate and had only happened a few times in Belgium. The second method was to rely on solid defensive lines to hold out and wait for reinforcements. It was a pity that the French army, which had been in a state of collapse all the way to the present, had found that there were no longer any decent defensive lines behind them for them to hide in like turtles.

The current situation of the French army had actually been analyzed by someone long ago. Guderian had described this Franco-German war in his diary as follows: “When my tanks crossed the Meuse and occupied Sedan, I already knew very clearly that the French had lost this war. The only question now is, through our efforts, how much can we make those foolish Frenchmen lose…”

Rein was in a good mood when he came out of the battalion headquarters, because he had not enjoyed the passion of fighting for a long, long time. During this time, he had been thinking constantly of how to kill the enemy and take revenge for his former radio operator, Clark.

“Tank 114 will be the rearguard here. If needed, we must have an external support,” he soon gathered the commanders of his four tanks and began to assign his own tasks. He glanced at Marcus and, pointing at the map, ordered the crew, “Marcus, you are responsible for covering my flank. Eliminate the infantry as much as possible. I’m leaving those few FT-17 tanks to you as well.”

After speaking, he stuffed the map back into his bag. “Tank 115 will follow Marcus and cover our rear. Move out!”

Everyone returned to their own tanks. Except for Marcus’s tank’s radio, which was too old for Alice to do anything about, after this girl’s calibration, the tank communicators of Rein’s and the others’ crews were now very clear, which made a group of old veteran ruffians look at this girl with new eyes.

Rein put on his throat intercom, coughed twice, and then asked, “This is platoon leader’s tank, number 113. Please respond if you hear me.”

“Marcus, tank 112 is ready,” Marcus’s voice came through the headset.

“Tank 114 is ready,” “Tank 115, heard you. Voice is very clear,” the other two tanks also replied.

“Internal vehicle communication check,” Rein commanded. “Baumann, drive and take the lead. Pay attention to the road changes. Alice, load the hull machine gun. Be ready to fire at any time. Bruce, load armor-piercing… Andre, prioritize dealing with the French tanks.”

“Understood,” everyone replied in their headsets.

Amidst the rumbling roar of the engines, the tanks began to move slowly. Rein exposed his upper body outside the tank, raised his binoculars to look at the distant place, and then a very strange smile appeared on his face. On the other side of the small stream, that is, in the area controlled by the French, behind a few rows of small trees, all the way to the village where the French were assembling, was a spacious small plain surrounded by hills.

The Tiger tank took the lead, crossed the narrow stream, and, relying on its powerful engine, drove up the opposite slope. The mud churned up by its tracks was thrown to both sides, and the road wheels bounced up and down with the uneven ground, proving that the mobility of this 38-ton Tiger tank was still very excellent.

“Stop in the bushes under the two rows of small trees,” Rein commanded, pressing the throat intercom. “I need to confirm that our scouts are still on the slope on the other side. All personnel are not to leave the vehicle. Wait for my news.”

He then switched the frequency. “Alice, tune to the reconnaissance company’s frequency. I need to find them.”

“Tuning complete. You can use it, commander,” Alice had completed the work in just a few seconds. In this regard, it seemed she was much more professional than Clark.

“Are you still on the slope?” Rein asked.

“Yes! We saw you as soon as you crossed the river. That new tank of yours looks good. Send me an autograph when you get back,” the reconnaissance unit on the other side replied humorously.

“I’ll send you a French pistol,” Rein said, turning off the intercom and switching back to the platoon’s channel. “Everyone, let’s go…”