Chapter 379: Paris

“My God, I hear they’re entering Paris today?” a citizen asked his companion beside him, his face pale with fear as he stared at the interse

“My God, I hear they’re entering Paris today?” a citizen asked his companion beside him, his face pale with fear as he stared at the intersection. “I hear these Germans are demons.”

“I don’t know. The army people say they’re all sick ghosts who have been hungry for ten years,” his companion replied with a shrug. “But I don’t really believe that. If our army of a million was taken out by a bunch of sick ghosts, that would be truly laughable.”

“I hear they will rape women, rob property, and will kill all the men and throw them into the wilderness to feed their pet wolfhounds,” an aristocrat not far away asked his subordinate. “Have you found out clearly? Is this true or false?”

On the morning of this day, some German troops had actually already entered Paris. It was just that these reconnaissance units had not stayed for too long. They had driven their armored cars whistling past the edge of the city, had looked at the tightly closed doors of the Parisian buildings, and had continued south with a sneer to look for the French troops.

Just as the French citizens were commenting on the German invaders, these German reconnaissance troops, their faces covered in dust and not having showered for a week, were also laughing at their opponents. “This bunch of Frenchmen are a disgrace. They fled their own capital without even daring to fire a single shot.”

“That’s right,” the commander on the armored reconnaissance vehicle nodded and then said. “If they had dared to fire a single shot, the Führer would have at least had the air force drop 200 bombs on them. At that time, you wouldn’t be able to find Paris, because it would just be a field of ruins. If it were really like that, you would miss the present even more, because you would have to clean up the ruins of Paris for at least twenty days.”

This city had really not been so empty for a long time. Of the three million citizens of Paris, a full third had fled before the German troops had advanced south and had approached Paris. Now these people were crowded on all the roads, mixed up with the fleeing French troops, which had made the traffic in the entire region extremely congested.

And these crowds of people, packed together on the roads, had provided the best targets for the German Air Force. The German air force units had dispatched 2,000 sorties of Do-217 bombers and 5,000 sorties of Stukas in one go, causing tens of thousands of tragic casualties to the southward-retreating civilians and French troops.

Subsequently, the muffled sound of military drums shook the whole of Paris, and the German army’s real entry force finally showed its face. A foreign journalist stood on the street, looking in horror at these German soldiers who had been described as monsters in the previous newspapers, and a strange thought welled up in his heart.

The first troops to enter Paris were all riding tall warhorses. The sound of their hooves rumbled, and could even be heard clearly from a mile away. These German cavalrymen tried their best to keep their horses’ steps neat, and they rolled forward on the streets of Paris.

Their resolute and deep-set eyes looked extremely cold under their steel helmets. On their tactical vests hung hand grenades, map cases, and all sorts of other small items. And on their backs, they all carried guns of varying lengths. These German soldiers looked straight ahead, riding their warhorses through the city, but their numbers were somewhat astonishing, stretching on and on, seemingly for ten thousand men.

“As this cold-blooded iron cavalry of Germany marched past in a mighty procession, even if Parisians were to see an army of robots marching, they would not be more surprised. In fact, what was marching past were just farm boys from Bavaria and Austria, riding their well-fed warhorses, for several kilometers,” an American journalist thus described the scene he had seen.

Because of the French government’s propaganda, some Parisians had imagined the German soldiers as an invincible, rock-solid, cold-blooded legion. These stone-like, terrifying killing demons rode in mechanized chariots and never spoke—in any case, they were just “things,” not “humans.”

Now these Parisians had finally seen the enemy they had feared so much. And when they timidly stuck their heads out of the windows, or bravely walked onto the streets, the cavalry on their tall warhorses had almost finished passing. And so these Parisians saw the German artillery units, riding on warhorses and pulling 105mm and 75mm field guns.

Before they could be surprised by what they had seen, swarms of German trucks followed. Behind these trucks were all uniformly 150mm cannons produced by Krupp. In 1916, Krupp’s cannons had failed to let Germany break into Paris. But now, another weapon produced by Krupp, the “tank,” had allowed the Germans to pull Krupp’s cannons onto the streets of Paris.

Some French people had believed the image of the malnourished Germans that had been portrayed by the French propaganda agencies. This propaganda had said that the Germans were starving because of the harsh wartime economy. They did not have enough food and were sallow and emaciated, becoming the pitiful victims in the hands of the dictator, Akado Rudolph.

But when these French people saw the healthy faces of the German soldiers, a great deal of their hostility was actually dispelled. “Our newspapers actually said that these German soldiers hadn’t eaten for ten years…” a French woman said, staring at the German soldiers. As enemies, these soldiers were marching with a light and neat pace, their leather boots striking the ground with a clicking sound. They walked past the French people, curiously sizing up these French residents.

“Look at these handsome soldiers! They’re all good young men!” a French girl exclaimed. Then the person beside her reminded her in a low voice, “Hey! Calm down! What about our dead children? How did they look?”

Following the mechanized artillery into the city was Germany’s war ace, the awe-inspiring tank units. These Panther tanks were covered in shell marks. The German panzer troops, their collars already turned black, leaned against the open hatches on their turrets and looked with a smile at the beautiful scenery around them.

It had to be said that Paris was a great city full of artistic atmosphere. Every blade of grass and every tree here seemed to have the style of an artist. This refreshing atmosphere was something that the German soldiers, who had fought their way here, had rarely seen. So they were like Grandma Liu entering the Grand View Garden, curiously looking around.

The tank engines roared. On both sides were the follow-up reconnaissance and signal corps on motorcycles. From time to time, they would stop to direct the crowd, to keep the increasingly bold French citizens away from the dangerous German war machines. Because they were afraid of any unnecessary accidents, the armored units behind were even notified and required to load the magazines of the assault rifles equipped inside the tanks.

One after another, the Panther tanks rumbled past the Arc de Triomphe. The German panzer troops sang their battle song, and the sound of their singing echoed over Paris, one wave higher than the last. A French citizen watched as the national flag near his home was quietly lowered and replaced by a red flag with a white circle and a black swastika. He began to sob sorrowfully.

Because most of the armored units had been thrown to the front to do what they were supposed to do, the number of German tank units that passed through the city this time was not large, and most were not the main force. So after only a few formations of Panther tanks had passed, what followed were the Panzer IIIs from the other panzer corps.

The performance of these tanks was actually not too outdated. It was just that with the brilliance of the Panther in front, these “prototypes” that had been produced earlier to accumulate tank production experience seemed a bit old-fashioned. But as the main force of the German second-line armored units, the Panzer III was still given more combat missions because of its low cost and simpler production.

The units that followed behind the Panzer IIIs were a bit of a surprise.

First were the low and ugly StuG IIIs. These turretless, small combat vehicles were infantry support weapons, belonging to the infantry for close-range support missions or serving as mechanized artillery. Most were equipped with a short-barreled 75mm gun. The improved models were equipped with a long-barreled 75mm gun or had been re-equipped with a larger-caliber 105mm short-barreled gun.

If these assault guns could still be considered to have a neat military appearance, then the messy and chaotic equipment that followed was really a bit of a shock to the French. One formation was of tank destroyers converted from the Czech 38(t) tank, another formation was of 40mm self-propelled anti-aircraft guns converted from the Panzer II. Following them were the 40mm anti-aircraft guns improved from the Panzer III chassis, and then a mix of the 150mm self-propelled howitzer improved from the Panzer II, the 105mm howitzer improved from the Panzer II, and the light tank destroyer converted from the Panzer II…

The German propaganda department, which had originally wanted to hold a grand entry ceremony, had overlooked the Führer’s nature and had also forgotten the nature of the frontline commander, Guderian. It could be said that these two, who were both teacher and friend, were both realists who did not like to put on airs. They preferred to operate things efficiently. As for the other aspects—if there were none, then there were none. If there were, then all the better.

And so the grand entry ceremony was not held. In its place, some of the frontline combat units directly entered Paris, and then passed through the city to continue their southward attack on France. Some of the units looked relatively clean because they were all the cavalry units that had caught up later. And the real combat units were all covered in dust and looked like a bunch of sloppy boys.

Some of the panzergrenadiers who followed behind even had bloodstains on their bodies. Many of them had entered Paris with wounds because they could not bear to give up the supreme honor of a German soldier, to be the first to break into Paris. These men, with their rifles on their backs, and some with bandages on their foreheads, although they did not look ferocious, could definitely not be called friendly.

They drove past in their trucks and armored cars, the joy of capturing Paris on their faces, and headed for their new operational objectives. In their eyes, France had already been defeated, without a doubt.

Just as the German army was continuously passing through Paris, in the headquarters of Army Group A, the two armored unit commanders who had arrived by helicopter, known as the Imperial Twins, Guderian and Rommel, were promoted to General of the Army and were ordered to organize two new armored army groups, L (the Rommel Group) and G (the Guderian Group).