Chapter 466: Beating the Dog
The tank tracks left deep ruts in the grassy field, but on the wide-open plain flanking Highway 9, it hardly mattered, as the ground was already covered in the tread marks of countless tanks.
During the initial attack, a full 300 Soviet tanks had passed through here. Now, these tanks were storming back in force. This was the 2nd Tank Division of the Soviet Red Army’s 1st Guards Tank Army. The original 1st Tank Division had suffered such heavy losses in the offensive that it had been abandoned in the center of the encirclement.
“We’ve lost contact with the reconnaissance units, here and here, Comrade Commissar,” an officer said, pointing to a not-so-detailed map as he briefed his superior on the situation. “I think we should cover this area and this area with artillery…”
“There’s no time! Colonel Popov, our artillery is short on ammunition, and this is no time to be waiting for them,” the middle-aged political commissar said, frowning at the map. He pointed to the location where the reconnaissance units had lost contact. “Since the enemy is here, all we need to do is attack.”
A perfectly good reconnaissance unit had been turned into a sacrificial pawn to “step on mines” by a group of incompetent commanders. If the German panzer forces, who were adept at using reconnaissance, knew that the Soviet Red Army used their scouts in this way, they would probably have laughed their heads off.
“A frontal breakthrough? The losses will be relatively high, and we cannot be certain if we can break through their defensive positions,” the colonel named Popov said, strongly opposing a frontal assault. He would have preferred his unit to bypass this relatively complex terrain and begin its attack on the plain on the other side.
Are you joking? Engaging the German panzer forces in the complex terrain of the woods and highway embankments was no different from suicide. After a full day of attacks, Colonel Popov had discovered that his Soviet tankers were developing a complex: whenever the terrain was complicated, the Soviet troops had to worry about being ambushed by German tanks. And in the several engagements they had fought, the Germans had skinned the Soviet armored forces alive at the cost of almost zero casualties.
That was why the Soviet armored forces hoped to engage the German tanks on the vast plains. That way, at least they would know how they died, and at least they could get a good look at what their enemy looked like. This was not an exaggeration; in many of their attacks, the Soviets had been beaten back without even getting a clear look at their opponent.
“How about this: have your 2nd Tank Regiment deploy on that plain and carry out a flanking attack! The main front will be the responsibility of the 1st Tank Regiment!” the commissar said, having skillfully drawn up this operational plan. He also felt that it was a bit too unreasonable to always have his troops charge the front of the enemy’s position.
So he thought for a moment and came up with this plan of a two-pronged pincer attack. This was an “art of command” that he had probably read in some history book, but it was clear that he himself felt it demonstrated his exquisite command ability far better than a simple frontal assault.
“Comrade Commissar, since the enemy has set up defensive positions near Highway 9, the woods and the nearby road embankments are very dangerous. We could have both regiments deploy in the open, which would make it easier to leverage our numerical advantage,” Colonel Popov said, trying to persuade his superior to commit the follow-on forces to the plain as well.
“Colonel Popov! I must remind you with the utmost gravity! We of the Soviet Communist Party do not fear sacrifice and do not fear the enemy! The frontal attack must be carried out! We must let those damned Germans know that we, the Soviet Red Army, have no cowards!” the middle-aged commissar roared, banging his fist on the table. He hated it when people questioned his command authority, so even though Colonel Popov was being as humble as possible, he still flew into a rage.
“I apologize, Comrade Commissar! The frontal attack will begin simultaneously! Long live the Soviet Union! Long live the great Soviet leader, Comrade Stalin!” Popov quickly snapped to attention and saluted, which slightly placated the enraged commissar.
Since the strategy of a simultaneous, two-pronged attack had been decided, the frontline Soviet armored forces began their preparations. The 2nd Tank Regiment, assigned to the plain, was naturally overjoyed, while the 1st Regiment, responsible for attacking Highway 9 and the woods, was utterly dejected. But with the roar of their tank engines, the battle began.
With the hatches buttoned up, a KV-1 tank followed behind two T-26s and slowly charged onto the flat terrain. The radio was filled with static and noise. Many were complaining about the messy formation and the lack of ammunition.
Colonel Popov sat in the commander’s position of his tank, repeating his orders over the headset. “Maintain distance between the tanks! All tanks, stand by with armor-piercing rounds! Maintain distance! Maintain!”
But as he was shouting “maintain,” he noticed that the Soviet tanks in the front row had opened fire. Not only had they opened fire, but their commanders were screaming into their headsets, and the content of their screams made Popov’s mind go blank. “Germans! German tanks! They’re charging us!”
After a full day of fighting, the Soviet tank commanders had become accustomed to a certain phenomenon: in every battle, it seemed the Germans were the ones winning, but because of the absolute number of Soviet tanks, these constantly victorious German armored units were also constantly retreating. So, in the eyes of most Soviet tankers, even with heavy losses, they still believed they were the victors.
Today, this phenomenon was completely shattered. The German tanks, which had been constantly retreating, had finally appeared, and they were counter-attacking. This struck fear into the hearts of all the Soviet troops. They didn’t know if they had truly defeated the Germans in the past day, and they couldn’t even be sure if the German counter-attack in front of them was a desperate last stand or a premeditated plan.
Unfortunately, they did not have much time to hesitate. Forty Tiger tanks of the 502nd Heavy Tank Destroyer Battalion, arranged in a single line, charged towards the endless sea of Soviet tanks.
The moment these tanks appeared, they fired a volley from a small slope, destroying more than 30 of the foremost Soviet tanks in just a few seconds. The power of the 88mm cannon was unparalleled. At a range of a thousand meters, it effortlessly reduced the T-26 tanks on the perimeter to spare parts.
“Colonel! Colonel! Colonel Popov! It’s the 502nd Tank Battalion! It’s that German unit!” a voice screamed through the headset, on the verge of a breakdown. “I see it! I see tank number 113! It’s him! It’s him!”
The 502nd Tank Battalion? Popov almost reached up to throw open his hatch and jump out of the tank to run. The terrifying German tank battalion that had crippled the attacking 1st Regiment of the 1st Tank Division on Highway 9?
The Red Army was already aware of the tanks that were even more formidable than the Panther. They knew that this type of tank was called the Tiger by the Germans, a more terrifying super tank. In actual combat, they had discovered that the enemy’s tanks had more powerful guns, thicker armor, and were paradoxically faster than their own KV-1s.
“Damn it! Fire! Organize a counter-attack! There aren’t many of them! Flanking units, envelop them! Destroy these tanks from the side and rear!” Popov commanded loudly.
Just as his order was given, the Soviet tank unit on the left flank was completely engulfed by a sudden, dense series of explosions. Popov didn’t need to look; he knew from the sound of the explosions that it was the German “Friedrich” rocket launchers. It was because they had been attacked by this type of rocket launcher a few hours ago that they had hastily begun this breakout retreat.
Boom! Boom! With the dense explosions, the tank unit of the Soviet Red Army on the left flank was immediately turned into a series of burning fireballs. Dozens of tanks smoked after the explosions, their ammunition cooking off violently next to the still-warm shell casings. Many tanks had their engines or tracks damaged and were paralyzed on the ground like soulless beasts, motionless.
And during that rocket barrage, the German tanks had stopped their advance and had fired another volley from a distance. These armor-piercing shells, with a whistling sound, tore through the frontal armor plates of the Soviet tanks, effortlessly turning one brand new Soviet tank after another into twisted scrap metal.
“Speed up! Speed up! Close the distance! Otherwise, we’re finished!” Popov commanded loudly. But he suddenly felt his own tank shake violently, followed by a huge explosion that was audible even through his headset. He didn’t know what had happened, only that his head had slammed hard against the hatch cover, and then he passed out.
“Colonel! Colonel Popov! Wake up!” When he heard a voice again, he found the gunner of his tank staring at him anxiously.
Popov remembered the predicament his unit was in, and he struggled to sit up. He opened his dry, cracked lips and asked in a trembling voice, “Were we… hit?”
“Yes, sir! Our tank was hit by an aerial bomb on the tracks. It broke the shock absorber and spring on one of the road wheels, and the engine is shot. We can’t move anymore.”
“An aerial bomb?” Popov found that his brain, having just woken up, was not working properly.
“The German tanks didn’t continue their assault. They were just luring us to deploy on the plain. It seems they intended for the planes to deal with us from the beginning. Thirty-something Stuka bombers… we were almost completely wiped out!”
Almost completely wiped out? What was the difference between that and being completely wiped out? This was an encirclement! This was the Germans’ encirclement! To suffer such heavy losses here, what was the difference from being defeated? His children and the elderly at home, would they be sent to Siberia because of his failure? These questions kept running through Popov’s mind.
Published: 2025-08-27T07:43:32.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-19T16:49:45.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c466-beating-137450321
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