Chapter 431: War… and War

You don’t get respect just because someone gives it to you; you have to fight for it yourself. If you have a pride hidden deep in your bones, then you must face the life-threatening difficulties alone. And sometimes, a man must have a persistence that disregards his own life.

“You take the machine-gun team! Circle around to the rear and separate the British infantry from their tank! You must hold on!” the C-Company commander ordered the young platoon leader following behind him as he ran, steadying his helmet.

“No problem! As long as you can make them drop their guns and pick up a deck of cards… I can fight these bastards all day!” the young platoon leader, his assault rifle slung on his back, shouted back as he sprinted forward.

His joke was clearly not funny at this moment. The company commander ignored his wisecrack and just kept running. If he didn’t keep moving, he could easily be hit by an enemy bullet, and then it would be too late for crying, let alone laughing.

Behind them, bullets from the British kicked up clouds of dust and dirt, but luckily, they didn’t hit either of them. The two men ran from the cover of one crater to the back of a large building, by which time the Matilda tank had already entered the C-Company’s position.

Without a word, the young platoon leader took a few of his men and the MG42 and ran towards the defensive position on the other side of the building. The C-Company commander was just as direct, leading his remaining soldiers to attack the distant British tank.

When the young platoon leader and his men got behind the Matilda, they discovered a comical and frustrating fact: there were actually two tanks. Following the Matilda was an American M3 tank.

“What do we do?” the soldier carrying the machine gun asked, gasping for breath behind a section of parapet. The terrain was highly advantageous for defense, and the German soldiers had indeed used it to repel several large-scale British attacks. But now, facing an enemy tank assault, the infantry was still in a panic.

“What else can we do? Let the tanks pass! Then attack the infantry behind them! Keep firing until the last bullet is gone!” The young platoon leader was all business when it came to fighting, a very seasoned infantryman. He pointed to a nearby crater and ordered the two men behind him who were carrying G43 rifles, “You two provide cover from that crater. Make sure the British don’t get too close! I’ll cover you and the machine-gun team from the rear. If they push forward, abandon your position and fall back to my line! Got it?”

“Yes, sir!” The two German soldiers grabbed their weapons, scrambled into the crater in front of them in a few quick steps, and began to pick off the British soldiers on their flank, one by one. They took down three or four before the British even realized there were German soldiers on their flank.

“A bunch of inexperienced fools,” the young platoon leader said with a wave of his hand. At his signal, the German machine-gun team in front of him opened fire. The roar of the machine gun and the crisscrossing tracer rounds finally alerted the British soldiers that their flank was under attack.

“They’re over there! Attack!” a British soldier shouted, pointing in the direction of the German fire. Not far from him, a dense burst of bullets cut down two of his comrades. The rest of the infantry accompanying the tanks lost their courage to continue forward and turned to deal with the flanking German infantry.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! With a series of controlled bursts, the young platoon leader dropped two charging British soldiers, then was forced back behind the parapet by the British return fire. There were simply too many British soldiers; his small group couldn’t possibly suppress them.

But the German MG42 not far from him was still spitting fire, cutting down swaths of British soldiers. Although the British were already spread out, the German firepower from the main defensive line was clearly stronger, compressing the British into a dense area behind their tanks.

And the German machine gun on the flank was dealing with these very soldiers. The gun fired continuously, inflicting heavy casualties on the British. But soon, as the assistant gunner was reloading, he was shot by a British soldier and collapsed in a pool of blood. Then, as the young platoon leader watched, the machine gunner was also shot through the head and fell beside his gun, his face covered in blood.

Several British soldiers tried to run over and grab the MG42. The young German platoon leader raised his assault rifle and emptied a magazine, adding five more bodies next to the machine gun. He glanced at the nearby crater; the two German riflemen were still firing, which restored a bit of his confidence.

Having lost its flanking fire, the German position was beginning to collapse. The pressure from the British infantry left the German anti-tank teams with no room to maneuver. In the end, two young German soldiers chose to make a desperate gamble. They destroyed the Matilda tank with a Panzerfaust but were riddled with bullets by the British infantry in the process. Taking advantage of this opportunity, the American-made M3 tank charged onto the German position, using its machine gun to take out a German machine-gun team that had been firing nonstop.

Watching his comrades on the main position getting torn apart, the young platoon leader gritted his teeth, vaulted over the low parapet, and charged towards the unmanned MG42. Bullets whizzed past him. Several British soldiers, seeing this lone German jump into the crater, finally remembered to aim and fire.

But their hesitation would not be reciprocated by the young platoon leader. This was war. If you didn’t kill the enemy, the enemy would kill you. The MG42 roared to life once again. The British soldiers once again got a taste of a storm of steel. A dozen of them were cut down, and the British soldiers who had been on the verge of breaking through the German line were once again thrown into chaos.

“Think you’re number one in the world? Think you’re the boss? Who’s the boss now? Who’s the boss now? Huh?” the young platoon leader muttered as he held down the trigger. He pressed down on the top of the machine gun with one hand and held the grip with the other, the vibrations from the gun making the dust all around him tremble.

With the cover of this machine gun, the German troops on the main defensive line were under much less pressure. Although they had no good way to deal with the M3 tank at the moment, the other fire positions began to try to stop the British infantry from getting closer, pulling back from the brink of collapse to a state of orderly defense.

But soon, the turret of the M3 tank began to turn backwards, seemingly to deal with the MG42 to its rear. The coaxial machine gun on the turret began to fire, cutting down a German soldier near the tank as it turned.

Soon, the coaxial machine gun had adjusted its angle and cut down the two German riflemen in the nearby crater. And it was only then that the young platoon leader realized he was being targeted by the steel monster.

“Fuck! Shit…” The young platoon leader quickly let go of the machine gun, pulled his head down, and curled up in a ball in the crater, hugging his helmet. The British tank’s machine gun swept over his position, tearing the MG42 in half and sending dirt flying everywhere.

Clods of dirt, debris, and bullets flew all around the edge of the crater. The young platoon leader cowered at the bottom, screaming in terror. He was in hell. The small stones kicked up by the bullets weren’t enough to seriously injure him, but they were enough to leave scratches and bruises on his face and arms, causing him immense pain.

Hearing the German’s screams, the British soldiers grinned. A moment ago, they were the ones crying for their mothers under the fire of that MG42. Now, they finally had their chance for revenge. They even forgot that the war was still going on; they seemed to have forgotten the indisputable fact that they had not yet broken through the German defensive line.

Boom! An armor-piercing shell suddenly slammed into the M3 tank that had been toying with the young German platoon leader. The shell easily tore through the M3’s side armor, causing the ammunition inside to cook off. The powerful explosion sent the tank’s turret flying, and a torrent of steel shrapnel cut down a swath of the surrounding British soldiers. These men, who had been laughing at the German soldier just moments before, immediately paid the price for their actions. The rest of the British soldiers were stunned by the scene before them.

On top of a pile of ruins not far away, a German StuG III assault gun slowly revealed its low-slung form. Its long gun barrel was still smoking, but the sight of its tracks crushing a half-destroyed stone wall completely broke the remaining British soldiers’ will to fight.

The battlefield fell silent in an instant. There were no gunshots, no cannon fire, no cries, no shouts. Everyone stared at the German assault gun, at this infantryman’s chariot, as it slowly advanced. The sound of its tracks and the roar of its engine grew louder and louder, becoming the only sound in this ruined landscape.

It’s not clear who was first, but the British soldiers began to drop their rifles. These young men, who just a moment ago had dreamed of breaking through the German lines and retaking their homeland, had now lost even the courage to run. They simply dropped their weapons and chose to become shameful prisoners of war.

A young British soldier buried his face in his hands and began to cry. Perhaps he was grieving for his failure to retake Norwich, or perhaps he was weeping for his own cowardice and incompetence. But for him, this battle was over. It had ended the moment he dropped his weapon.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Suddenly, gunfire erupted. The young German platoon leader, standing at the edge of the crater, held his weapon, which was still smoking. Two British soldiers in the distance were cut down. Everyone stared at the German platoon leader who had fired. He just stood there and said quietly in German:

“What the fuck are you laughing at…”