Chapter 574: Encounter on a Small Road

“Halt!” A flare shot up into the dark night sky, like a starting gun giving the command. The unique sound of the German MG42 machine gun, nicknamed “Akado’s Saw,” began to roar, and a large-scale night battle commenced.

Crack! Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Under the light of the flare, the German machine gun positions poured countless rounds into the swarming British soldiers. Hundreds of them were cut down by the enemy’s bullets, but more soldiers, shouting slogans, continued to charge. A dozen or so tanks provided cover for these infantrymen as they approached the German defensive positions.

Boom! In the distance, a British howitzer was firing its ammunition at a pre-marked coordinate. The flame from the muzzle illuminated the faces of everyone around. They watched the distance with grave expressions, because the horizon, which should have been pitch black, was now lit up by countless flashes of light.

Where the sky and the earth met, the orange glow made some of the high ground and barbed wire even more conspicuous against the night sky. Huge plumes of black smoke rose into the air, and more explosions were heard, like the muffled thunder of a hot summer, low and soul-shaking.

A dozen or so British soldiers, taking advantage of the chaos, crossed the German defensive line. They silently circled around to the rear positions, bit by bit approaching the target they wanted to reach. They were a special operations team organized by the British army, their purpose to infiltrate the German rear during a counter-attack and, with a surprise attack, take out the German frontline commanders to relieve the immense pressure on the main front.

While the main battle was raging, the sudden insertion of such a commando detachment would indeed have an incalculable effect at a critical moment. The British army had suffered a dark loss to the German special forces during the defense of Cambridge, so they had also formed a special forces-type unit in North Africa, similar to the German special operations teams.

However, compared to the well-developed special forces theories of later generations, this British raiding detachment was just a battlefield surprise attack by elite infantry, not the kind of special forces operations that the Germans had been focusing on exploring. The weapons of this British detachment were still the ordinary infantry weapons, and they only had ropes and other tools in addition to their standard gear.

But just as the Soviets were trying to imitate the Germans and establish professional sniper teams, the British were also learning from the Germans in the ways of special operations. At least for a long time, the German special forces had not found an opportunity to add to their kill count. The opponent had clearly taken deliberate precautions against this unique combat style.

Unfortunately, on the sandy road they were advancing on, they encountered a rather different unit coming from the opposite direction. The other side had clearly also spotted them and quickly approached. By the time the two sides were close enough, they could finally see clearly in the light of the distant artillery fire and the moonlight that everyone was wearing British uniforms.

“Hey! You’re going the wrong way,” a British soldier kindly reminded the comrades who were driving towards them.

“We’re lost. There’s a German defensive position up ahead, Germans everywhere. We had no choice but to turn back. We didn’t expect to see you,” the leader of the other group said, leaning on the car door with his head out.

The leader of the British raiding detachment frowned when he heard this intelligence and quickly asked, “How many Germans are there? Have they spotted our troops nearby?”

He couldn’t help but be a little nervous. After all, this was related to the success or failure of his special surprise attack. He had to get a clear picture of the enemy’s situation and then choose whether to continue forward or to temporarily withdraw to their starting point and make further plans.

As the two units mingled, under the faint light of the car’s headlights, the captain of the British raiding detachment got a clear look at the equipment of these friendly forces who were in such a “hurry to turn back.” He suddenly realized that although their attire was British, their equipment was a bit too complete.

It was a well-known fact that soldiers of all nations had a bad habit on the battlefield that they couldn’t get rid of: due to the heavy load, ordinary soldiers would often discard things they thought were useless on the roadside or leave them on the company’s baggage trucks or horse carts. This was not just the Germans; even in 2015, the elite American army had still not gotten rid of this bad habit.

But the British army that had just driven up was simply too neat. Helmets, sun hats, even their mess kits were all properly worn. So the captain of the British raiding detachment looked up and asked the officer in the car, who was smiling amiably, “Tonight’s password. I almost forgot to ask.”

The officer in the car had a smile on his face, but the hand inside the car door was already on the MP-44 assault rifle hidden beside him. He narrowed his eyes and replied, “You almost made me forget too. It’s better to ask for the password to be safe… Tonight’s password is ‘Sunflower’.”

The reason this German special forces unit, disguised as a British unit, had set out so long after the battle had begun was very simple: they were waiting for the regular combat units to capture some prisoners and find out the British password for the night, to make it easier for them to infiltrate the British camp and carry out their sabotage activities.

Hearing the other party answer with the correct password, the captain of the British raiding detachment was clearly somewhat relieved. The pressure on the hand holding his submachine gun loosened, and he followed up with the countersign: “Iris!”

And so, everyone was happy. The two teams said their goodbyes and were about to leave. However, in the end, one of the German special forces soldiers following behind the car had features that were simply too Germanic. He had only shown his face for a moment before he was out of the car’s headlights, but a few of the British soldiers still frowned.

“I say, judging by your rank, you’re a major. Which unit are you with?” As he spoke, the captain of the British raiding detachment, who had been about to leave, put his hand back on his gun.

The captain of the German special forces had also grabbed his MP-44 assault rifle. It was clear that after this round of probing, he had also lost his patience to wait any longer. The canvas on the truck was suddenly thrown back with a shout in German, revealing a 13mm heavy machine gun mounted on the truck.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat! The captain of the British raiding detachment, without a second thought, pulled the trigger of his submachine gun, spraying bullets at the German special forces captain sitting in the car opposite him. And the German captain was no pushover either; a line of MP-44 bullets flew towards the British captain not far away.

The two were hit at almost the same time. One fell to the ground, screaming in pain. The other tumbled over in the driver’s cab, making no more sound. And all around them was the sound of gunfire, with bullets flying and sparks flying.

A British soldier raised his gun and aimed at a German. The moment before, the two had been borrowing a light from each other to light their cigarettes. His eyes were filled with terror, but the gun in his hands still fired in the first instant, cutting down the German he had just been calling “brother.”

And at the same time as he killed the other, in a corner not far away, a German special forces soldier was aiming his weapon at this British soldier. He showed no mercy and fired his own bullet at top speed, killing the British soldier.

The gunfire was dense. A German soldier on the truck was hit by a bullet, fell off, and hit the ground. And a German machine gunner beside him was firing frantically with his 13mm machine gun. One after another, the British soldiers were shot through the body and fell dead on the ground.

The bullets gradually lost their accuracy. Both sides were looking for cover in the mutual slaughter. A bullet hit the tire of a truck, puncturing it. Then another bullet hit the front headlight of the car, extinguishing the bright light. And a bullet shattered the car’s glass and hit the driver inside. The driver slumped over the steering wheel, pressing the horn, which blared continuously.

The fierce firefight gradually subsided, and the chaotic sound of gunfire gradually faded away. The last British soldier collapsed by a large rock on the side of the road and closed his eyes with unwillingness. He had been on a surprise attack mission, but here he had inexplicably been drawn into a close-range firefight.

The two sides had suddenly opened fire on each other at close range, with no chance to even dodge. In just one short minute, at least 30 British soldiers and 20 German soldiers had fallen. There were no tactics, no skills. They had used the method of a gentleman’s duel to decide the winner and loser here.

A German soldier glanced at the truck the captain had been in, then reached out and pulled open the door, which was full of bullet holes that were still smoking slightly. Blood trickled from the cracks in the car and dripped into the loose sand below. As the door opened, the blood-soaked German commander also fell out and hit the ground with a dull thud.

More German soldiers around were cleaning up the battlefield. They were checking the body of every British soldier, searching for their documents and identification tags. From time to time, someone would fire a shot, putting another round into an enemy who was already lying on the ground. This was a good habit, at least it could ensure that they would not be killed by an enemy who was on the verge of death.

“Medic!” After standing there stunned for two seconds, the German soldier who had opened the car door shouted loudly.

“No need,” the deputy commander from the car behind said, walking over. He looked at the ground covered in blood, patted the young subordinate’s shoulder, and said softly, “He’s already dead…”

The battle had ended so quickly. On the distant battlefield, it was still noisy. There, the artillery of both sides had begun to exchange fire. Tonight, it was destined that not many people would be able to sleep peacefully.

“The plan is canceled! Take these bodies, we’re returning the way we came!” the deputy commander of the German special forces said, frowning as he looked into the distance. “Report this situation up the chain! It seems our opponent has appeared.”

Published: 2025-09-07T03:24:12.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-01-03T15:09:53.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c574-on-road-138319543

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