Chapter 418: An Age of Heroes

Just as Wittmann’s crew destroyed their fifth armored car of the day, the M3 Lee tank, whose view had been obscured by thick smoke, finally

Just as Wittmann’s crew destroyed their fifth armored car of the day, the M3 Lee tank, whose view had been obscured by thick smoke, finally maneuvered around the burning wreckage and took aim at the monstrous Tiger.

Thump! The British fired their first return shot of the day, but the pathetic 47mm shell failed to penetrate the Tiger’s rear armor. It struck the stowage bin on the back of the Tiger’s turret, hitting a spare road wheel that was strapped there. The impact sent the wheel flying but did not harm the Tiger’s hull in the slightest.

The faint vibration from the rear of the tank was clearly transmitted to Wittmann’s seat. He knew the British had finally reacted. The real challenge was just beginning; it was time to test his crew’s skills.

Despite his youth, Wittmann was a seasoned veteran. During the Polish campaign, he had driven a German armored reconnaissance vehicle and achieved the astonishing feat of single-handedly routing 500 Polish defenders. Subsequently, in the invasion of France, he was transferred to a StuG III unit as an outstanding commander, where he cut a swath through the enemy, destroying three French tanks. After that, he was assigned to a Panther tank unit, where he thrived, quickly becoming the second-highest-scoring tank ace in the German army.

His extensive combat experience had made Wittmann exceptionally calm. He did not immediately turn to counter-attack the tank that was pursuing him. Instead, he maintained his course and continued to slaughter the chaotic mass of armored cars and trucks.

One after another, British trucks and armored cars exploded and were destroyed. The distant M3 finally fired its second shot. The shell flew directly at the Tiger but once again failed to penetrate its armor. The round struck the side of the Tiger’s turret at an angle, leaving a startling scar before ricocheting off into the sky.

Due to the angle, the Tiger was once again shrouded in the smoke from the destroyed vehicles. The poor M3 tank behind it was forced to move forward again. It had to drive past the exploding, smoking wreckage to get another clear shot at the detestable German tank.

“Drive! Drive!” the British tank commander roared in frustration. He desperately wanted to know why the Royal Air Force’s planes were inferior to the Germans’, and why the tanks he had bought from the Americans were also inferior to the Germans’.

But he knew this was no time for complaints. The distance between the two tanks had widened, and judging by the first shot, he had to get closer for his 47mm cannon to have any chance of threatening the German tank.

Following his command, his tank lurched forward again, moving past the smoking wreckage of a truck. But he still couldn’t see the German tank. A burning armored car to the side was still billowing smoke, obscuring his view.

With no other choice, the tank continued to advance, past the burning armored car, only to be met with more wreckage and more smoke.

“My God, how many of our vehicles have they destroyed?” the gunner, his eye pressed to the sight, couldn’t help but groan.

“Shut up! Keep moving! Don’t slow down or stop until I say so! We keep after that German tank until we catch it!” the commander bellowed in frustration.

Just ahead of the British tank, Wittmann’s Tiger destroyed another armored car. In the space of just over twenty minutes, Wittmann had already destroyed 23 tanks, 10 trucks, and 11 armored cars. His tank kill count now equaled the record set by Rein in the Battle of the Pass, and he had destroyed even more armored cars and trucks.

Wittmann saw that the area ahead was clear; the rows of British armored vehicles were gone. He knew he had broken out of the British encampment, but he still had a long way to go to reach safety.

“Driver! Pivot in place! Not to the left, pivot to the right! Gunner, watch the left side of the road! There should be more tanks on their right flank!” Wittmann commanded loudly. “Keep loading armor-piercing rounds!”

Thump! Sure enough, from the right, the M3 Lee tank that had initially missed the Tiger fired its most threatening shot yet from its 75mm hull-mounted cannon. The shell struck the Tiger’s frontal turret armor dead on.

Wittmann felt as if someone had punched him hard in the eye as his head slammed against the commander’s periscope. The entire Tiger shuddered violently. Everyone knew they had been hit, but thankfully, their tank’s armor was the thickest in the world, and the shell had not penetrated.

Boom! The Tiger spat a jet of vengeful fire. The shell tore through the air towards the American-made tank that had ambushed them. One was in American service, the other fought for Germany. These two tanks, which should never have met, had their encounter on British soil, and the contest was decided in the most brutal fashion.

If the Tiger’s 88mm cannon couldn’t penetrate the M3’s armor at this range, all of Germany’s artillery experts deserved to hang themselves. Effortlessly, Wittmann’s crew completed their 24th kill of the day, decisively breaking the record from the Battle of the Pass.

“Reverse! Aim straight ahead, there should be one more tank there!” Wittmann commanded loudly. He looked somewhat comical now; the violent impact had given him two black eyes like a panda, and the skin over one of his eyebrows seemed to have split open, blood streaming down his cheek.

The Tiger began to reverse at high speed, leaving the chaotic British armored force behind and retreating towards its starting point. And just then, from within the burning smoke, the M3 tank that had been pursuing them burst out and saw its nemesis.

“Fuck! Shit!” The moment he emerged from the smoke, the British commander saw through his periscope the dark, gaping maw of the Tiger’s cannon aimed directly at him. He only had time to utter that curse before he saw a brilliant flash erupt from the enemy’s muzzle.

His tank felt as if it had been struck by a giant. The violent tremor and the sound of tearing, screeching steel sent a piercing pain through his ears. Everywhere were shattered fragments of metal and scorching hot air, and then he knew no more.

Watching the British tank explode in the distance, Wittmann finally let out a sigh of relief. “Holy shit! The next time I see Rein and Carius, they’d better call me the God of Tank Warfare!”

His gunner ripped the cap from his head and threw it to the floor, shouting in catharsis, “Who the hell is going to remember Rein’s Battle of the Pass now? Our Battle of the Woods is the greatest tank battle in the world!”

“Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! How many tanks did we destroy? 20? 30?” the loader asked excitedly from the side. Although no one had time to answer him, he was still grinning from ear to ear.

“Driver, keep reversing! The British might pursue!” Wittmann shouted the order to retreat. He then switched channels to contact the commander of the armored reconnaissance vehicle, who had been waiting behind, unaware of what had happened. “Hey! Pal, I just stormed the British headquarters! You won’t believe how many British tanks I destroyed! Twenty-five! A full twenty-five! Get ready to bring some people to confirm my kills! Haha!”

“You’re saying there’s at least a regiment of British tanks there? Are you crazy? You charged in there with that many Brits around?” the armored car commander’s voice came through the headset, sounding exasperated. “Next time you do something like that, tell me in advance so I can call people to collect your corpse!”

“Get off the road! The British might counter-attack. Contact the air force and have them bomb that forest. But before they do, you’d better send some scouts to check it out. The British aren’t stupid enough to just wait there to die…” Wittmann’s tank retreated to its starting point. The German armored reconnaissance vehicles hadn’t been waiting foolishly on the road; they were hidden on the other side, concealed behind a thicket of bushes.

The British, of course, were not stupid enough to wait for German planes to arrive, nor did they have the courage to attack the beachhead, which was now defended by German armor. The confidence they had gained from taking out two Panzer IIIs had been completely shattered by a single German Tiger. They abandoned the wrecks of 25 tanks, 11 armored cars, 10 trucks, a few empty fuel barrels, and over twenty tents, and fled the terrifying little forest in a panic.

Now they finally understood why the French government-in-exile spoke of German tanks with such horror. Now they finally understood why that general named de Gaulle had repeatedly stressed the importance of taking the German panzer forces seriously. Now they knew that the Battle of the Pass had not been a failure of the French armored forces. Now, these British tankers had become the new laughingstock, at least until someone more unlucky came along.

That afternoon, General von Rundstedt set foot on British soil, the first general from a rival European power to do so in centuries. In this respect, his achievement had already surpassed Napoleon’s, which put him in a very good mood.

But another piece of good news made him even happier. German forces had routed the only British armored unit near the landing site, successfully expanding the defensive perimeter by five kilometers. The 5th Light Panzer Division was already threatening Great Yarmouth to the southeast, while the main force of the 2nd Panzer Division was advancing on Norwich.

“General, we have a new hero,” his aide said with a smile after briefing him on the situation, pointing to the report. “In an unnamed forest, the number two tank ace, Second Lieutenant Michael Wittmann, single-handedly destroyed 25 British tanks, surpassing the record set by Raine Hardt in the Battle of the Pass.”

“We live in an age of heroes…” Rundstedt said with emotion, his hands clasped behind his back after hearing the news. “If we don’t strive, people will not remember nobodies like you and me…”

The novel has already been fully translated up to the final chapter. You can access it on my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair