Chapter 470: The Battle for the Village of Tupos
“Urrah!” With a unified roar, helmeted Soviet soldiers charged through a storm of bullets toward the German defensive positions opposite them. Rein leaned against his commander’s hatch, observing the frantic Soviet counter-attack through a small patch of woods with his binoculars.
This was pretty much the very front line of the offensive. The grenadiers in front of the German panzer forces had just arrived in the area and had set up a hasty defensive line. To the left of Rein’s tank, an armored personnel carrier was parked, its engine still running. A little further ahead was an armored command vehicle, with the motorcycles and horses of the reconnaissance troops resting beside it.
“Lieutenant Rein, we haven’t spotted any Soviet tanks. They are all infantry, and they are frantically charging our defensive positions,” the grenadier battalion commander said, a cigarette dangling from his lips, in the open space next to the tank. In front of him was a folding map table with a map of the vicinity and a slightly blurry aerial photograph spread out on it.
About a dozen meters from the commander, two 80mm mortars were firing desperately. On a nearby truck were piled boxes of ammunition with their wooden lids pried off. A few grenadiers were signing the logistics officer’s tally book, receiving replacements for the grenades and machine gun ammunition they had expended.
“An infantry attack of this scale, and they don’t have a single tank? Aren’t they going to cover their infantry’s advance?” Rein asked, lowering his binoculars and pointing to the Soviet soldiers in the distance who were continuously attacking and being beaten back. “They didn’t even have an artillery preparation. This is no different from suicide.”
“I agree with you on that point. Their attack is no different from suicide,” the grenadier commander said with a chuckle and a nod. “But they did prepare an artillery attack at the beginning. Unfortunately, 20 minutes ago, seven Stukas bombed the village of Tupos as planned, and I haven’t heard the whistle of their shells since.”
“It seems the Stukas’ bombs were dropped quite accurately,” Rein laughed along.
“It seems the enemy has no intention of giving up the village of Tupos. This place is like a sharp dagger, pointing right at the flank of General Guderian’s 1st Panzer Division. If we don’t take it, they won’t dare to advance deep into Belarus,” the grenadier commander said, pointing to the map for Rein on the tank. “So this place is very important.”
Rein fully agreed with this statement. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”
“On the flank of this village, there is a paddy field and some farmhouses. After all, this area is an important grain-producing region for the Soviet Union,” the grenadier commander said, pointing into the distance. “My artillery can’t cover such a large area, so I suspect that their anti-tank guns and tanks are hidden there.”
“I can’t see any tanks in the village, but there are a few spots I can’t see, so I can’t rule out the possibility of an ambush inside,” Rein said with a nod. He had asked the reconnaissance troops. Due to the Soviet counter-attack, they had not entered the village of Tupos itself, only scouting the perimeter, so they were unclear about the situation inside. And for a German commander, “unclear” meant “dangerous.”
As they were speaking, three more Stuka dive bombers descended from the clouds, the piercing shriek of the airflow enough to make one’s blood run cold. The first Stuka was clearly responsible for providing cover this time. Its two 20mm cannons opened fire, spitting searing tongues of flame.
The shells kicked up dirt as they hit the soft ground, forming two neat rows of black smoke pillars. And the Soviet Red Army soldiers near those smoke pillars immediately crumpled to the ground, twisted, and fell silent.
The second Stuka to dive dropped seven or eight small bombs in one go. These bombs bloomed into flowers of blood and fire in the most densely packed area of the Soviet formation. The screams of the Soviet soldiers could be heard clearly even from Rein’s position in the rear.
The third Stuka was not idle either. It followed, diving to a lower altitude, and then cut down another group of Soviet soldiers with its cannons. It then pulled up and returned to the sky.
The slaughter by these planes was not yet over. Soon, the three Stuka dive bombers changed their order and began to dive again. The shrill, seemingly endless whistling sound was enough to make the Soviet soldiers break. The Red Army’s attack began to fall into chaos, and then the soldiers crowded together and routed back towards the village of Tupos behind them.
The Stukas’ slaughter obviously did not stop just because the enemy was retreating. The planes only reluctantly returned to base after they had dropped all their bombs, and the battlefield seemed to have returned to a long-lost tranquility.
“The 9th Air Wing’s performance is over. It’s our turn to go on stage,” Rein said with a smile to the grenadier commander beside him. “We will begin our attack. You take this opportunity to fortify your defensive line. If we release smoke and retreat, remember to cover us.”
The commander was taken aback for a moment, then looked at Rein. “What? Is it very dangerous?”
Rein nodded as he ordered his tank to start up. “The enemy has too many infantry, and we have too few troops for this attack. So I plan to retreat immediately if we run into trouble. At the very least, I have to bring everyone back here.”
“Don’t push yourself. If it’s not working, I can send a company to reinforce you,” the grenadier commander said after a moment’s thought.
“You’re telling me not to push myself, but you’re in a tight spot yourself,” Rein said with a smile. “As long as the village of Tupos is still in Soviet hands, the defensive pressure on you is no less than the offensive pressure on me. You’d better just hold your line. I’ll take care of my own problems.”
Rein’s tank began to vibrate, and the roar of its engine drowned out the grenadier commander’s “goodbye.” Behind Rein’s tank, a self-propelled anti-tank gun modified from a Panzer II chassis passed tank 113, followed by two Panther tanks from the battalion headquarters. Rein’s tank was the last to move out, following the other German armored vehicles.
This special detachment had been formed on the fly. Rein’s company had gone with the battalion to assault the main Soviet front, leaving this temporary small armored unit to capture the village of Tupos. Because the surrounding Red Army units had been routing at the first touch, no one had expected the Soviet troops here to fight so desperately.
Because the Marder tank destroyer, modified from a Panzer II chassis, had no turret and only an open-topped fighting compartment, Rein could only order this anti-tank gun and one Panther tank to take the main front, advancing directly along the road. The other Panther tank would cover the left flank, watching the interior of the village of Tupos, while his own Tiger would follow at the rear, responsible for the most suspicious area of woods and farmhouses.
Andre’s eye was pressed to the sight, monitoring every movement in the woods and near the farmhouses. Rein used his commander’s periscope to confirm the situation over and over again. Soon, the Panther tank in front of him opened fire, not with its main gun, but with the machine gun on the hull.
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant! The Soviets are firing at us! I don’t see any tanks, their infantry is firing at me!” the voice of the Panther tank’s commander came through the headset.
It wasn’t Markus’s strange accent, which made Rein feel a bit uncomfortable, but he still immediately gave the order, “Return fire at will! Watch your remaining ammunition.”
Rat-tat! Rat-tat! As he spoke, Andre pulled the trigger, and the coaxial machine gun immediately spat a dense stream of bullets. With the sound and vibration of the machine gun, Andre’s voice also reached Rein’s ears. “Soviet infantry in the woods! There might be an anti-tank gun! Be careful!”
“Shit!” Rein cursed, then gave the combat order for his own tank. “Andre! Fire!”
Boom! The moment he spoke, Andre fired the Tiger’s main gun. The shell flew into the woods, knocking down a few branches.
“Bruce! High explosive, load!” Rein shouted. As he shouted, Bruce had already pushed a high-explosive shell into the breech of the Tiger’s cannon.
As the breechblock closed, Bruce shouted back, “High explosive loaded!”
Boom! The Tiger shuddered again. This unaimed high-explosive shell flew out and kicked up a large cloud of black smoke in the woods not far away.
With this explosion, the woods instantly became noisy. Many cannon shells flew out, hitting the nearby road embankment and the highway itself.
“My God! They have at least a company of tanks! Fall back! Fall back!” Andre, his eye still glued to the sight, roared. “Quick! Get off the road! Get off the road!”
“Retreat! Retreat! Get off the road!” Rein commanded loudly into his throat microphone. But his order was a bit too late. The Marder tank destroyer in the lead was hit by a shell. Metal fragments flew everywhere, some even striking the hull of Rein’s tank with a series of sharp clangs.
“Damn it! All tanks, fire on the woods and farmhouses as you withdraw! Get off the road! Quickly!” Rein saw the burning Marder, saw the two gunners struggling in the flames, and couldn’t help but frown.
Boom! Andre fired a third shot by instinct, but it still didn’t hit anything. He didn’t even watch the shell land but turned his head and shouted at Rein, “Rein! We’re going to be finished if we stay here! Get off the road embankment immediately!”
“Baumann! Full speed reverse, get off the road! Let’s just get out of here first!” Rein commanded loudly. The remaining three German tanks were in chaos on the highway. But the Tiger with the number 113 painted on it began to reverse at full speed at his shout, and with a lurch, it backed off this dangerous road.
Published: 2025-08-27T07:57:49.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-20T15:59:59.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c470-battle-137450910
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