Chapter 1021: The Mark of the Cannon

“What on earth are we shelling? God bless, is Moscow going to be turned into a pile of rubble, just like Stalingrad?” A loader, sitting bored on an ammunition box, complained to his colleague. Even though the weather wasn’t that hot, he had already stripped down to just a white undershirt.

Another soldier was also covered in sweat. After all, loading a 210mm howitzer, one of Germany’s equipped cannons, was no easy task. They had to use specially prepared shell tongs, with a group of four men to load a single shell. It was a very dull and boring job, to put it bluntly, no different in nature from the laborers who hauled bricks in the streets. But by comparison, the place they were in was very safe, so even this kind of work was a sought-after job in the army.

In fact, to be honest, Germany was not at the forefront of the world in artillery design. On the contrary, they were very backward. At least in the field of large-caliber artillery design, Germany had stagnated for too many years, to the point that most of their experience was still from World War I designs.

But this was, after all, a weapon. When the performance of other weapons was good enough, the poor performance of one or a small number of weapons was covered up. It was perfectly fine to just make do. So when Krupp had begun to produce this 210-caliber cannon, they had not been too concerned with range or other performance indicators.

They had just been ordered to produce as many large-caliber artillery pieces as possible, in as little time as possible, to make up for the embarrassing situation of the German army’s lack of heavy artillery firepower at the front. Because the entire Eastern Front was seeing more and more siege battles, by comparison, the German army was not very suited for this kind of difficult-to-advance battle.

Most of the German generals, even now, had not fully understood just what the Soviet Union’s attitude of fighting for every inch of land was for. They simply could not imagine, after turning their own homeland into a piece of scorched earth, to still insist on fighting until the last moment, for what?

In their previous experience, there were plenty of examples that proved that to surrender when you couldn’t win was the best choice—Paris had basically not experienced the flames of war, and to this day it was still one of the most important cities in Europe. The people had not suffered, nor had their way of life been changed much by the war. A similar city was Leningrad, which had been renamed St. Petersburg… There were also many contrary examples, such as London, which was still being rebuilt, and Stalingrad, which had been renamed Saint Rudolph.

“You probably haven’t heard. A buddy of mine is in the 712th Artillery’s direct infantry battalion. He told me that a few kilometers away, there is a giant artillery position. The shells there are so big they need a crane to load them, and that place is also constantly firing in the direction of Moscow!” another artilleryman, who was sitting on another ammunition box, fanned himself with his hand and said.

Hearing this news, the faces of the other soldiers all showed a look of shock. They couldn’t quite believe that their country had, on a single front, assembled such a massive artillery force. “My God… there’s another artillery position? Just here, I hear there are already more than 40 210mm heavy guns, right?”

To be precise, the German Wehrmacht had, on the Moscow front, assembled 53 210mm heavy guns, which had been transferred from the Stalingrad direction, 6 240mm heavy guns from France, and 30 280mm heavy guns—nearly 90 large-caliber artillery pieces.

And so, the shell disaster of Moscow had arrived. The German army would, at irregular intervals, use their long-range artillery to carry out an irregular bombardment of the city of Moscow. This irregular shelling had slowed down the speed at which the Soviets were clearing up the city, and a rotten smell had begun to permeate the streets and alleys.

Two days had passed since the German bombing and shelling of the Moscow military parade. In these two days, the German army had poured a full 890 large-caliber shells of 210mm or more into the city of Moscow. These shells had exploded in the streets and alleys, destroying one building after another.

“Get up! Reload 5 more shells! Let’s go! This round of shelling is on us!” a German artillery commander shouted from a distance. He waved his arm forcefully so that everyone could see his gesture.

And so everyone stood up from their positions. Some used a crowbar to pry open the wooden ammunition box they had just been sitting on, and a shell was presented before everyone’s eyes.

Four men, together, used the shell tongs to lift this shell. Shouting in unison, they carried it to the cannon not far in front and, working together, pushed it into the breech. Soon this shell would be fired, landing on the heads of the Soviets. The power of the explosion was enough to destroy an entire building. Just thinking about these things was exciting.

A few minutes later, a new round of shelling began again. Everyone covered their ears, squinted their eyes, and watched as these Krupp heavy guns, which were slightly backward in design and whose range was completely inferior to the American cannons, were thrown back by the powerful recoil, kicking up dust. They felt the deafening sound, watched the flames and smoke spewing from the muzzles. The last time the German army had poured ammunition on a city on such a large scale had been in the First World War.

Several photos were spread out on the desk of Field Marshal von Rundstedt’s operational command post. Compared to the dim basement, this temporarily requisitioned civilian house had bright glass windows, exquisite chandeliers, and a whole cabinet of red wine and vodka. It was said that this was a country villa of a high-ranking Soviet official. When the German army had occupied this place, there had still been two maids cleaning.

By the time Rundstedt’s army group headquarters had requisitioned this place, those two good-looking maids had already been “used” by a good number of German soldiers. So Rundstedt could only use his own guards to continue to clean this place, and it was also for this reason that this place looked a little more messy than when it had just been occupied.

“Your Excellency, Marshal! This one is an aerial photo taken during the last reconnaissance, before the bombing. Because of the altitude, here, here, and here, these city blocks are relatively blurry…” An air force staff officer pointed to several blurry places on the aerial photo, and then pointed to a map of Moscow that was spread on the table. “But we can still compare it with the map to find some of the corresponding locations.”

Rundstedt nodded, took a magnifying glass, and, after comparing it with the photo, said in agreement, “This altitude is already the lowest that the reconnaissance plane can descend to. Although the military aerial camera we bought is probably already the best in the world, we still need to improve the accuracy a little bit.”

As a frontline general commanding an army group, Rundstedt was also a veteran of the battlefield. He often compared the aerial photos in his hand and analyzed the intelligence in them. Having done this for a long time, even if he was not an air force commander, he could tell the altitude at which a photo was taken with just one look, and could also roughly guess the model of the reconnaissance plane used.

He had the superiority of a man who could guess the vintage of a fine wine with just one sip. The air force staff officer beside him smiled and nodded, which was his agreement with the Field Marshal’s deduction. “This is a photo we took at low altitude at great risk the day before yesterday. We can still find these few city blocks.”

He then pulled out a few clear, partial photos that had just been taken at a lower altitude this morning. He pointed at the already unrecognizable places and said to Field Marshal von Rundstedt, “Our shelling has destroyed these few city blocks. From the photos, it seems this is where that building was before the bombing. It has now completely disappeared.”

“In the photo, half of the spires of the Kremlin have disappeared. Some have collapsed, some have been directly broken off…” From a professional point of view, the air force staff officer introduced to Rundstedt, one by one, the combat results that the German army had already confirmed on the photos.

“Then, these huge craters, were they caused by the 280mm railway gun, right?” Rundstedt asked, picking up one of the photos and speaking to the air force staff officer beside him. “They are bigger than the other craters, and more concentrated…”

“Yes, Marshal!” The air force staff officer nodded, then picked up several other similar photos and placed them together. He then pointed to the three rows of photos, from top to bottom, and compared them. “The top is the mark of the air force bombing, the middle is the craters of the 210mm and 240mm cannons, and the bottom is what’s left by the 280mm railway gun.”

“The Führer’s intention is to carry out another air force bombing, to completely destroy Moscow’s defense system,” Rundstedt said, pointing to a few relatively intact city blocks on the map. He then ordered his air force staff officer, “In our inventory, the reserve of napalm incendiary bombs is relatively large. Use them on these few city blocks and see what the effect is.”

The officer was taken aback for a moment, then nodded, stood at attention, and replied, “Yes, Your Excellency, Marshal! I will go back and start preparing for the bombing. Then I will take my leave, Marshal! Heil Akado Rudolph, my Führer!”

“Heil Akado Rudolph, my Führer!” Rundstedt returned the salute and then turned his gaze back to the theater map hanging on the wall. There, in the northern part of Moscow, E Army Group had already firmly occupied its positions. And on the main front of Moscow, A Army Group and F Army Group, like Mount Tai, were pressing down on the Soviet army. Now, as long as Guderian’s G Army Group could reach its designated position, then Moscow would be caught in a massive encirclement by several of the German army’s main army groups.

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