Chapter 623: Wounded
A German soldier carrying his G43 rifle leaped out of a foxhole. He ran forward nimbly, keeping his body low to dodge the incoming bullets. The soldier held one hand on his steel helmet until he was pressed against a wall on the other side of the road, where he stopped, panting heavily.
“About 40 British soldiers, they have light machine gun fire. Can’t be too careful,” he gasped, reporting the results of his reconnaissance to his commander. Not all information could be known in advance; on the battlefield, soldiers could only rely on themselves.
“They’ve set up defensive positions here and here?” the platoon leader asked, pointing to a roughly hand-drawn map of the street block. This map had not been prepared by the intelligence department; the German assault force had paid the price of two soldiers killed to figure out their current situation.
The dust-covered soldier nodded and pointed at the hand-drawn sketch. “They have indeed set up defenses here. Very experienced infantry. It’s best to wait for the paratrooper fighting vehicles before trying to attack.”
“There won’t be any paratrooper fighting vehicles. Those things are okay for suppressive fire, but not so good for covering an infantry assault. The armor is just too thin,” the platoon leader said, folding the map with a sigh of resignation. He pointed to a collapsed building to the side and issued his orders: “MG 42 team, get up there. You’ll be responsible for suppressing their machine gun nest! Wal! You take 1st squad and attack from the right. I’ll take the rest and attack from the left!”
The building over there had been destroyed by German bombers, leaving only a high mountain of rubble—an excellent defensive position. After giving the attack order, the platoon leader looked up towards a concealed position in the distance where a sniper team was lying in ambush, responsible for reconnaissance and cover.
From the corner of a window, a hand emerged and gave a signal. This confirmed that the sniper team had not spotted any suspicious targets; the small mountain of rubble was still safe.
After seeing the signal, the platoon leader nodded and gave a slight wave of his hand. A German soldier who had been waiting by his side for orders immediately slung his MG 42 and ran towards the rubble pile. Behind him, another German soldier wearing a hooded raincoat and carrying an ammunition box ran along with him. Both were extremely cautious, crouching and varying their speed as they advanced.
These battle-hardened veterans all had their own unique experience for surviving on the brutal battlefield. They were the true foundation of the German army’s invincibility, the skeleton and backbone of the entire military. Each of them had honed their combat skills to perfection. Ducking, stooping, and running fast had become a habit etched into their very souls.
Only luck could kill these old soldiers. No one could predict where shrapnel would fly from, and no trench, however advanced, could prevent a direct artillery hit. Therefore, these veterans put more faith in God and luck, because the only thing they couldn’t change were the unpredictable, low-probability events.
The two men reached the designated position with utmost speed, paying no mind to the dust and strange smells on the rubble pile as they threw themselves down on the ruins. To keep their firing profile low, the bipod on the MG 42 was not deployed. The deadly weapon was placed directly on the ground, wedged between two stones.
“Alright! The machine gunner is in position! Prepare to attack! Move your feet as fast as you can, and don’t stop without good reason! If you’re hit, don’t move around, that will only make you die faster! Open fire violently when you see the enemy and shout out their position! Don’t just scream for no reason, that’s meaningless!” the platoon leader said, turning to brief several new replacement paratroopers behind him. After all, he didn’t want these soldiers to become casualty statistics in their first airborne operation.
After briefing the new soldiers, the platoon leader looked into the faces of all his men, because he didn’t know if he would have the chance to see these familiar faces again in a little while. “Attack! Go! Go, go!”
At his command, a group of German soldiers rushed out from behind the walls and cover they had been using, charging swiftly towards their objective. They crossed the open road at top speed, without a hint of hesitation or pause.
Rat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! The British defenders’ machine gun opened fire. Bullets swept across, kicking up a line of white dust next to a German soldier’s leg. The soldier ran forward frantically, trying to evade the bullets aimed at him.
In fact, he himself didn’t know why he was so unlucky this time. Among the dozens of friendly soldiers, he was the first to be targeted by the British machine gunner. Just as he was lamenting his terrible luck, a bullet struck his knee. It effortlessly punched through the bone, leaving two holes gushing blood on his leg.
“Ah!” he cried out and pitched forward onto the ground. For a moment, he couldn’t feel the pain from his leg, as the tension and excessive adrenaline had put him in a state of high excitement.
But his mind clearly knew he had been shot, and being shot at a time like this was not good news. Fortunately, this was not the first time he had been hit, so he didn’t panic at all. He rolled on the ground and found a spot that offered some cover.
“Medic! I’m hit! I’m hit in the leg!” The only thing he could do now was call for a medic, but whether a medic could reach him in time and answer his call was another matter entirely. The battlefield was extremely dangerous, and medics also had to consider their own safety before they could treat the wounded.
Rat-tat! Rat-tat! Not far away, the MG 42 position covering the German attack opened fire violently. The familiar sound of ripping linen greatly boosted the German soldiers’ morale. There were not many weapons that could suppress a German machine gun at this range, and the British opposite them clearly did not have one.
As a cloud of white dust was kicked up on the British machine gun position by the German bullets, the German casualties immediately stopped. While the rate of fire of the Lee-Enfield rifle was not slow, it was still a step behind the G43s and MP-44 assault rifles in the hands of the German paratroopers.
Under the cover of their superior firepower, the German soldiers quickly charged the position. British soldiers tried to put up a stubborn resistance with their rifles but were shot down. As more and more German soldiers leaped into the British trench, the defenders finally began to break.
“Wait, don’t shoot! I surrender!” a British soldier shouted, raising his hands high and dropping his rifle.
Bang! A German soldier holding his G43 rifle shot the surrendering British soldier in the head, then looked at his comrade. “What did he say? I don’t understand English!”
“He was surrendering, you idiot!” a veteran next to him shouted back in exasperation. “Watch the hand signals! I said watch their hand signals!”
More and more British soldiers raised their hands. It was only then that the Germans realized there were far more enemies opposite them than their reconnaissance had initially spotted. When the German platoon leader came over from the other side, he counted the prisoners. About 50 British soldiers had surrendered, and another 15 had been killed.
Then the platoon leader walked over to the only unlucky fellow in this attack and watched as a medic bandaged his wound. He crouched down and joked with the pained veteran, “Hey, last time in Britain you were also hit. How are you so unlucky?”
The veteran didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He still had the medal for the airborne invasion of Britain on his chest, as well as a wound badge from that battle. He thought to himself that he would probably be getting another wound badge this time.
“Leg wound. He’ll have to wait for a Kübelwagen from regiment to pick him up. He can’t walk on his own,” the medic said, looking up after using a piece of wood from the ruins to splint the soldier’s leg and applying a bandage to stop the bleeding.
The equipment of the German paratroopers was now no different from that of light infantry; in fact, their firepower was even more intense and their supplies more plentiful. The powerful German air transport force could deliver Kübelwagens to the front lines at a moment’s notice, helping the paratroopers improve their mobility on the ground.
As they were talking, a convertible Kübelwagen drove over from the distance. A German officer sat in the back, carrying a Mauser 98k rifle. Seeing the weapon and the rank insignia, the frontline German soldiers knew their battalion commander had arrived. Sure enough, their company commander was sitting in the front, and in the back were the battalion commander, Borol, and his aide, Donner.
“You said you needed reinforcements, so I brought the battalion commander to reinforce you,” the company commander said jokingly as he hopped out of the vehicle.
“Clearly not needed anymore, sir,” the platoon leader replied, pointing to the wounded soldier on the ground. “The resistance here has been cleared. We took about 50 prisoners. One man wounded. Can you help get him to the field hospital?”
“A veteran of the Britain drop?” Borol smiled, looking at the wound badge on the soldier’s chest. “Can you get in the car yourself? I’ll take you to the field hospital. I happen to be heading that way to report our success to the regimental commander.”
“I can! As long as it’s on the way,” the veteran said. With the medic’s help, he got into Borol’s vehicle and was soon on his way to the regimental field hospital. The wind blew against his face, feeling refreshing. Not far from them, a helicopter skimmed by at low altitude, its two levels stacked with stretchers carrying the seriously wounded.
In any case, it seemed the combat equipment of the German paratroopers was becoming more and more advanced, Borol thought with satisfaction.
Published: 2025-09-12T03:59:29.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-01-26T15:56:57.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c623-wounded-138711710
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