Chapter 1013: A Terrifying Name

To conduct a high-intensity modern war in a sea of yellow sand, logistical support is the fundamental guarantee of victory. As long as there are sufficient supplies and reserves, then even with a smaller force, an offensive can be launched and its victory ensured.

Rommel’s Afrika Korps was well-suited for launching localized, small-scale surprise attacks. He frequently broke up his units, mixing his armored strength into independent, combined-arms battle groups. With a dozen or so tanks, and dozens of trucks or armored cars as their core, they carried company or battalion-level units into battle, disrupting the entire battlefield with their chaotic state.

He used these special-purpose formations to outflank and interpenetrate on both sides of the battlefield, which was so chaotic that even command became inconvenient. Then, Rommel would commit his elite armored units to use their overwhelming firepower to reap the enemy forces, which had already lost their unified command.

This method of fighting was very suitable for the German army, because in such a chaotic state, the advantages of the high quality of the German grassroots officers and soldiers were brought into full play. They could change their direction of attack on the fly, and even coordinate locally to change their operational plan. In short, these grassroots commanders would, according to the situation, make up for the deficiencies in the operational plan and expand their combat results as much as possible.

And in that chaotic state, to want to compete with the battle-hardened German troops in temporary adaptability, and in their control and dominance of the battlefield, was undoubtedly to attack the Germans’ strengths with one’s own weaknesses. Defeat was thus a foregone conclusion.

Now, in the coastal town of Arish in the Middle East, several of Rommel’s units had already replenished their fuel and had prepared fresh water and ammunition. They had begun an unconventional offensive.

Twenty 150mm howitzers opened fire fiercely, pouring shells onto the Allied defensive positions. The fortifications on both sides of the road were instantly engulfed in explosions and fire. The sound of the cannons firing, and the sound of the shells in the distance, were like a muffled thunderclap on the horizon, making the hearts of all who heard it tremble.

If it weren’t for the fact that the shells they were firing were not produced by their own factories, and if it weren’t for the Führer’s secret order to flex their muscles in front of these not-so-honest Jews, in fact, to attack such a forward position, it would not have been necessary to commit such terrifying firepower. On the Middle Eastern front, in most cases, the German tanks would just launch a direct charge, and the Allied forward positions would just collapse.

But this time, the investment had clearly paid off, because in Rommel’s command post, in front of this German Field Marshal, the Jewish delegation, who had been clustered around the eyepiece of the battery commander’s scope, watching the firelight rising in the distance, were clearly so shocked they were speechless.

They were terrified by the scene before them. After all, not everyone had experienced such a terrible war. These Jews, who called themselves God’s chosen people, were skilled at doing business and making money, and they controlled a lot of capital and wealth. Unfortunately, they had forgotten that in the distant past, what had driven them from their own land was not the enemy’s gold coins, but the enemy’s butcher’s knife!

And now, times had changed. The power of the money controlled by the Jewish people was not what it used to be. They were conceited about their own greatness and wealth, feeling that the gold coins they controlled were enough to manipulate the world. These arrogant people believed that the time for the restoration of their country was already ripe, and that all countries would bow their heads and admit defeat in the face of their great wealth.

But today they knew they were wrong, wrong in an absurd way. Because while the power of capital had grown to the point where it could destroy the world, the pillar of another state machine, the power of the army, had also grown like a demon, becoming an even more terrifying existence.

The shells were smaller than before, but they flew further and exploded with greater force. The warhorse had been replaced by the tank and the truck, but the efficiency of killing had increased by a hundred, a thousand times. For the first time, mankind was truly fighting in the sky, using altitude to destroy their opponents. Even the depths of the sea were already filled with killing weapons, devouring people’s lives.

As long as humanity was willing, then before the economic field of the opponent could be destroyed by the power of capital and money, the opponent’s more powerful cannons, tanks, and warships could destroy one’s own body. The powerful force of the Third Reich’s army was displayed before these Jews, teaching them a terrible lesson: even in a situation where reason was spoken, the Jews were already invincible. But in a situation where reason was not spoken, the little power the Jews had was really not that strong.

“Marshal! I’m beginning to wonder if there are any living people left on the enemy’s positions,” the old Mr. Enrique said, moving his eyes from the battery commander’s scope. He turned his head and looked at the smiling Rommel. To be honest, Enrique, who had met Akado at the beginning, had not taken this Field Marshal of the Third Reich very seriously, because he was absolutely certain that in the art of making money, ten Rommels would be no match for him.

But now, Enrique had no choice but to put away his contempt. Because the facts had already proven: although in the field of making money, Rommel was not as invincible as he, Enrique, in the field of war, ten thousand Enriques would only be enough for one of Rommel’s charges.

Of course, this was what he was thinking now. But when he saw the German armored cars and tanks launching their charge on a nearly straight horizon, he even dismissed this thought. Even if he were really given ten thousand men, he would not be able to withstand a single German charge.

The formation of the Panther tanks, covering each other, was already approaching perfection. The distance between them had even been gradually formed through a thousand trials. The infantry followed behind these steel monsters, the angle of their crouch full of experience and science. They were not close to the tanks, but they were not far either. Even such a simple distance had been practiced in countless offensive drills. Too close, and too far, would both affect the efficiency of the attack.

The seemingly randomly placed machine gun nests, at the instant they opened fire, had suppressed the enemy’s fire points. The tracer rounds flew in a straight line, close to the horizon. This was Rommel’s feast, a domain of death that was different from the marketplace, filled with the stench of blood.

Unfortunately, most of the Jews present could not understand these things. All they saw was the tracer rounds from the machine guns enveloping the positions opposite them, the Stuka bombers screaming as they dropped their bombs and flattened the hills, and the tanks rolling over the trenches and breaking through the enemy’s defense line.

The world-destroying power was astonishing. By the time the news came back from the front that the troops had already captured the city of Rafah, all the talents had begun to feel thankful that they were allies with such an army. Enrique even felt a sense of crisis, from who knows where, rising in his heart, making him feel that if he had not stood on the side of the Greater German Party, he might very well have been sent to a concentration camp by the soldiers before him.

“We’ve captured about 100 Allied prisoners. Would you like to go and see these poor people?” Rommel asked, putting down the phone in his hand and smiling as he walked to Enrique’s side. “In a few hours, my vanguard will be able to advance to Gaza. Jerusalem is only a few days’ journey away.”

“Thank God, in my lifetime, I can really go back there, to pay my respects to our ancestors,” Enrique said, closing his eyes and muttering words of gratitude. He then opened his eyes and looked at Rommel in front of him. “Then, I will have to trouble you, Marshal.”

“Not at all. We are just following the Führer, doing what we should be doing for the coming of the new world order,” Rommel replied with a smile. “Then, please come with me, gentlemen, to see those pitiful prisoners of war. After all, we need to find out what kind of defensive positions they have deployed in the vicinity.”

Enrique smiled and waved his hand, then suddenly began to talk about something that had nothing to do with the current situation. “We boarded the ship in Italy, and from our business channels there, we heard some very strange news. I wonder if you have heard, Marshal, about that special villa in Italy, the one belonging to the Americans…”

Originally, Enrique had not paid much attention to this matter. Even when he had heard some news in passing, he had no intention of getting involved in this muddy water between the Third Reich and Italy. But now, with his Jewish state within reach, this old merchant, with his deep city, had finally chosen to stand completely on the side of the Third Reich.

He had directly sold out Mussolini, hoping that at a time like this, he could help Germany to secure a stable rear, so that his Jewish state, which was leaning on the great tree of the Third Reich, could get through the most dangerous initial period of its founding.

Enrique did not want his country to be established, only for the Axis, which supported him, to be defeated in the war. At that time, he, the greatest hero of the founding of the Jewish state, would very likely be driven from the altar by America’s Baurman. For the fruits of his victory to be stolen was not good news for anyone.

Hearing Enrique mention the domestic affairs of Italy, Rommel, after a slight smile, said very casually, “We have this matter under control. If the Third Reich’s intelligence department couldn’t even find out the news that you know, then Heydrich and Gascoigne might as well pack it in.”

At the mention of these two great, baleful names, the faces of the several Jews present clearly changed. After all, General Gascoigne was still a man of the army and was relatively restrained. But that SS commander-in-chief, Heydrich, who was no different from the god of death, was simply a nightmare for all Germans.

If the Wehrmacht’s intelligence department’s omniscience relied on those spies who had been sent out by Akado more than 10 years ago and who were deeply buried all over the world, then the SS’s ultimate weapon, which was as all-pervasive as mercury, was the terrible fanaticism of the members of the Greater German Party.

“Heh heh.” Hearing the names of these two terrible men, Enrique could only force a smile and tactfully shut his mouth.

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