Chapter 473: The Battle for Tupos, Again

“We’re back!” As Rein leaned against his tank, watching the medics tend to a few wounded from the 502nd Battalion, he heard Marcus’s uniquely smug voice. “Hehe, you can’t manage on your own without me, can you?”

The Teaching Company had returned to the line. Five Tiger tanks were lined up in a neat row. A recent Soviet attack had been easily repulsed by the grenadiers, so a rare moment of tranquility had fallen over the area.

“The lieutenant’s not in a good mood. You’d better keep your mouth shut,” Andre said, standing beside Rein.

“I hear the Soviets have deployed a new weapon. The battalion commander wants us to probe them, to see what that new tank is capable of,” Marcus said, looking at Rein. “None of us wanted this to happen. You did your best to save them.”

Rein nodded and raised a hand to cut Marcus off. “That’s not what I learned. What I learned is that a blood debt must be paid in blood.”

“Let’s plan the tactics, then. Now that I’ve heard you say that, I know you’ve come to terms with it,” Marcus said, relieved. He continued, “The Soviets have about 20 tanks in this area, mostly KV-1s and that new big-headed monster. Only by annihilating this tank force can we hope to capture the village of Tupos.”

“The reconnaissance unit is back. The enemy has no intention of giving up Tupos. They are strengthening their defenses and are still digging trenches and bringing in reinforcements,” the commander of tank 114 reported. “They have two concealed anti-tank guns deployed here and here, but their caliber seems to be very small, not lethal. The most worrying thing is that big-headed KV tank. The cannon on that thing will probably pose a considerable threat to us.”

Rein nodded and stood up. He brushed the dust from his uniform and glanced at Andre and the silent Alice beside him. “The situation has been reported up the chain. We’ll see what kind of reinforcements they arrange for us. With just our few tanks, it won’t be easy to deal with an unknown number of Soviet tanks in the woods.”

It certainly wouldn’t be easy. But when Rein and Marcus saw their reinforcements, they both felt that the higher-ups had perhaps overreacted this time. Yes, Army Group G, as the main force of the offensive, had not held back at all. They had mobilized their air support, the 9th Air Wing, and had gathered 40 bombers to greet the obscure village of Tupos.

Looking at the dense formation of bombers in the sky, Marcus swallowed foolishly. “Is this necessary? Dozens of bombers… this is too ruthless.”

Everyone knew that the German Air Force was preparing to make an example of someone to warn the others. The small village of Tupos would be the fate of any Red Army unit that refused to surrender and resisted the German advance. Any future act of defiance against the German army would be met with such a merciless counter-attack—that was the message the bomber fleet wanted to convey, right?

They had thought the number of bombers was already astonishing, but no one had expected the subsequent attack to be even more so. A full 40 bombers came swarming in, dropping hundreds of bombs over the target. These were not ordinary aerial bombs, but the German Air Force’s specialty weapon: napalm.

This time, the Red Army was in big trouble. The napalm bombs turned the Soviet positions into a sea of fire. When the German army began its attack, the entire village of Tupos was still filled with a scorched smell. Some of the young German soldiers vomited continuously at the sight of the twisted, charred corpses, while most of the soldiers simply charged into the empty village in silence, cautiously.

The woods where Rein had been ambushed were still burning fiercely, but the silhouettes of some tanks could now be clearly identified. A few Soviet tanks near the edge of the woods charged out of the inferno but were destroyed one by one by the waiting German Tiger tanks. Then, from near the bushes at the edge of the burned-out forest, they saw a charred and massive monster slowly emerge. It drove to the vicinity of the road embankment and then stopped moving.

Several German grenadiers climbed onto the still-warm Soviet tank, cheering and jumping on top of its huge turret. As Rein had said, this massive Soviet tank did indeed use the same chassis as the KV-1, and its frontal armor had also been strengthened.

When they opened the tank’s hatch, the Soviet soldiers inside had already been killed by the toxic fumes from the fire. It seemed the driver had persisted, trying to drive the tank out of the burning area. In the end, although the tank was saved, he himself had also been poisoned by the thick smoke.

And so, this new type of Soviet tank had miraculously been preserved intact. Its ammunition had not even cooked off from the intense flames and heat. On the very first day this tank had made its debut, the Germans had captured one for study. This had to be said, was a stroke of immense luck.

It was believed that the performance and data of this tank would soon no longer be a secret, and the German panzer forces would be able to develop tactics to deal with it based on this information. Of course, this new “big-headed KV tank” now had its own name: the KV-2.

The battle for the village of Tupos, which should have been extremely brutal, ended cleanly after a day and a night of fighting. The Soviet forces withdrew from the village that Khrushchev had ordered them to defend to the death, leaving behind nearly 7,000 bodies. And with the loss of this defensive strongpoint, the lands of Ukraine and Belarus behind the Red Army were like a mansion with its gates thrown wide open to the German Army Groups G and E.

Before Marshal Voroshilov could react, Guderian’s forces had linked up with General List’s Army Group E. These two forces advanced side by side, encircling 600,000 regular Soviet troops in the central region. In this way, just five days after the start of the war, 2.6 million Soviet troops had either been encircled or routed by the German army. The once-arrogant Red Army, which had wanted to plant its red flag all over Europe, had been utterly defeated before it had even left its own doorstep.

Without a general mobilization, the number of Soviet troops on the main front had been reduced to half of what it was before the war. Facing the German Wehrmacht, which now had an absolute numerical advantage, no one dared to imagine what would happen next.

As long as the Germans launched a counter-attack and their troops broke through to the Ukrainian plains, the oppressed Ukrainians and Belarusians would rise up in rebellion. Some of the wavering Soviet republics would begin to have second thoughts. At that point, not even Stalin would spare Khrushchev and Voroshilov, who were responsible for the front.

Of course, the situation in the north was much better. Timoshenko had gathered his forces and had temporarily stabilized the defensive line, preventing the German northern army group from advancing east. This was the only theater on the long German-Soviet front that could bring a slight sense of relief.

“What happened? What happened? When we fought the Japanese in the Far East, we could beat them so badly they had to run and hide. Why is it that when we come to Europe, we lose so miserably?” Khrushchev asked Voroshilov, his voice full of resentment and confusion.

Voroshilov also sighed. The just-concluded battle for the village of Tupos had wiped out his own elite units. “Comrade Khrushchev, now is not the time to talk about this. Comrade Stalin’s special envoy is about to arrive. We should be thinking about how to deal with this god of death.”

Hearing this news, Khrushchev’s mood worsened. He grabbed the cup beside him and threw it to the ground. The glass shattered with a crash. Marshal Voroshilov could only stare blankly at the broken shards.

“If… what would happen if we retreated?” Khrushchev suddenly asked Marshal Voroshilov.

Marshal Voroshilov was taken aback. This was clearly a thought of finding a way out. He thought for a moment, then replied, “Comrade Khrushchev, if we retreat and preserve some of our strength, we will at least leave some usable forces for the general who will replace us. But for the two of us, none of that matters anymore.”

Khrushchev was clearly not resigned. “We will take our troops and head south!”

“This… isn’t this treason…” Marshal Voroshilov naturally knew that by doing so, he could preserve his own life with his own army. But the now-open central region of the Soviet Union would be immediately occupied by the Germans. At that point, Stalin, with the Germans at the gates of his city, would have no time to deal with him and Khrushchev.

Khrushchev sighed and glanced at Voroshilov. “First, we stabilize the special envoy. If that doesn’t work, then we will lead our troops south and send a telegram to Comrade Stalin, saying that we are resolutely defending the southern territories of the motherland.”

“Unless it’s absolutely necessary, we shouldn’t do this,” Voroshilov said, standing up and looking at the crystal-clear glass fragments at his feet. He advised, “If it really comes to it, we can just hand over our command. This war wasn’t one we wanted to fight anyway. It was Comrade Stalin who decided to fight it! You and I both wrote him letters advising against it at the time!”

Khrushchev opened his mouth to say something, then stopped, shook his head, and walked out of the room.

While Khrushchev and Voroshilov were studying how to receive Stalin’s special envoy, Brauchitsch, von Bock, Model, and the others were studying the operational deployment for their entry into Ukraine. This time, Operation Requiem had been completed beautifully, so instead of a frontline operational meeting, what was now taking place was more like a victory celebration.

“As long as we annihilate the Soviet forces in the encirclement, we can free up more troops to continue the attack. By June, we will be able to enter the Ukrainian region. I believe that in the end, we will win a great victory against the Communist International!” Brauchitsch said, raising his wine glass.

“Long live the Führer!” everyone said, raising their glasses with a smile. “Defeat Stalin! March into Ukraine!”

Author’s Note: I’m taking your feedback. Since everyone disliked the wheat field, I’ve decisively changed it to a forest. I hope it doesn’t affect your reading experience. My apologies to everyone!

Published: 2025-08-28T05:05:10.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-21T16:03:23.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c473-battle-137526364

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