Chapter 636: Scarface

The gunner and loader did not escape. The entire tank became a giant fireball. It wouldn’t be long before the ammunition and fuel inside the burning Panther would detonate sympathetically. The commander of the 2nd vehicle didn’t dare to look back, scrambling and crawling towards a nearby bush.

The commander of the 2nd vehicle tumbled into the bushes. His tank, hit and burning, was now exploding violently. A huge cloud of black smoke billowed from its hull, obscuring everyone’s vision, looking like a flame from hell.

A few seconds later, the Soviet Stalin tank that had been penetrated by the German tank also exploded. The tremendous force blew the Stalin tank’s turret clean off, and it landed in an open space not far away. It was only then that the Stalin tank with the black five-pointed star, which had been hiding in the corner, slowly drove out.

This was a Soviet “tank sniper team,” an evolution of the infantry sniper team concept. The Soviets had used a small number of Stalin tanks to form several small detachments specifically for hunting German tanks. They appeared and disappeared like ghosts, similar to German sniper teams, in the hope of destroying more German armored targets.

Clearly, they had succeeded this time. If it weren’t for one of the Stalin tanks recklessly advancing to claim credit at the last moment, this local battle could have been called a perfect tank ambush. Like the tanks of Nazi Germany in another lifetime, this tactic was a classic armored defensive counter-attack.

To be honest, this tactic was very difficult to deal with. In another timeline, the Soviets and Americans had no particularly good way to counter this German tactic and ultimately had to use their numerical superiority to offset these hit-and-run attacks. Given that in the other timeline, German tanks had a certain advantage in quality, at least in terms of guns and armor, they had fought countless classic tank battles.

The Stalin tank moved slowly, its road wheels pressing down on its wide tracks as it inched its massive body forward. This tank took the theory of sloped armor to the extreme; even its side and rear armor used a sloped design, making the Stalin tank’s defense on every side formidable.

Combined with its long and powerful 122mm cannon, this tank, at least in terms of armor and firepower, had reached the level of German tanks. In the current era, where technology had not yet created a generational gap, this gave the Soviet armored forces a piece of equipment that, at least on paper, seemed comparable to a German tank.

The commander of the 2nd vehicle crouched in the nearby bush, not daring to breathe. He could only stare through a gap in the foliage at the approaching Soviet tank. He had never seen this type of Soviet tank before. From the thickness of the gun barrel, he could tell that its main gun was even larger than the German tank’s 88mm cannon.

A 100mm cannon? Or 120mm? He guessed over and over in his mind. The Soviet tank stopped not far from the flames of the burning German Panther. The wreck of the tank, after its ammunition had cooked off, posed no further danger. Although it would continue to burn, there was no possibility of another explosion.

With a screeching, grinding sound, the turret hatch of the Soviet tank was pushed open from the inside. A man with a huge scar on his face stuck his head out of the turret, his expression cold. He stared at the burning tank, as if waiting for the German tank, which was now just a steel skeleton, to burn out.

“It seems the Germans are not immortal after all,” Scarface said inexplicably, then reached up and gently stroked the scar. He sniffed the air, as if savoring the scorched smell of the fire. “As long as they’re not immortal, that’s good, very good…”

There was another sentence no one heard. He muttered something, but no sound came out: “Rein, I thought all Germans were unkillable monsters like you! What about you? When will you show yourself, so I can kill you and complete that unfinished killing training?”

He was also a trainee from the Wolf Knight Academy. But compared to the lucky Rein, he had walked a different path. This path was the true path the Wolf Knight Academy had originally intended for them: to abandon emotion, to abandon humanity, and to ultimately become a terrifying true warrior who obeyed all orders, who lived for killing and destruction, and who survived through cruelty.

The commander of the 2nd vehicle lay prone in the bushes, too scared to make any move. He still had a pistol at his waist, and the chances of a successful sneak attack on the Soviet commander at this moment were very high. But he didn’t dare to even shift his body, because it was as if a voice in his head was repeatedly reminding him that if he moved, he was dead.

With the rumble of its engine, the Soviet tank finally drove away. The commander of the 2nd vehicle, still hiding behind the bush, only then noticed that his sweat had soaked through his uniform, and his legs, from being in an awkward position, had long gone numb.

…

“A meeting at battalion HQ. All tank commanders must attend. I hear there’s been trouble in the area north of Brovary,” a dispatch rider said, stopping his motorcycle next to a German Tiger tank. He shouted, “All tank commanders! Please report to battalion headquarters for a meeting! It’s a very urgent situation.”

Rein Hardt’s tall but still not particularly strong body was holding a bucket, helping Baumann and Alice clean the tank’s engine compartment. Routine maintenance was a very important part of a tanker’s job, which was one of the reasons why the quality of tank troops was higher. Most of these soldiers had a skill and possessed some specialized mechanical knowledge.

Tanks, like planes and warships, needed meticulous care. Just as a rifle is crucial to an infantryman, a tank is a tanker’s weapon. If you are lazy during maintenance and cleaning, it will break down and stall in battle, and you will pay a heavy price.

“In such a hurry?” As a main force of Army Group G and a tank commander in the 3rd SS Panzer Division’s Independent 502nd Heavy Tank Destroyer Battalion, Rein had not participated in any large-scale battles recently. On one routine patrol, he had destroyed a T-26 from a Soviet reconnaissance unit, but other than that, he had had no other successes.

The most famous person on the Eastern Front right now was the “Black Tulip Count,” the rising dogfighting star of the air force, Hartmann. A few days ago, this fellow had scored his 110th aerial victory, becoming the hot new representative of the German fighter force. It was said that the air force had deliberately flown him back to the outskirts of Warsaw to be promoted to First Lieutenant by the Führer Akado himself at the Wolf’s Lair.

The tanks didn’t need to be driven back to battalion HQ, and the distance wasn’t far. Rein put the bucket down by the side of the tank, slung his ever-present MP-44 assault rifle over his shoulder, and walked towards the nearby headquarters.

Climbing over an untended fence, passing by a small house completely destroyed by artillery, and stepping over rubble and shell casings, Rein and the commanders of the other tanks he commanded reached the battalion headquarters without much trouble. Seeing the battalion commander’s face, Rein couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. It had been a long time since he had seen such an ugly expression on his commander’s face.

Soon, Rein and the others knew how serious the situation was. The battalion commander pointed at a map and began to describe the recent battles: “There have been three battles north of Brovary, here, here, and here.”

“In the first battle, we lost 25 soldiers. The Soviets advanced 1 kilometer. Our armored forces counter-attacked and retook the position, losing 1 tank,” the commander said, describing the first battle. It didn’t sound particularly unusual.

Everyone remained silent, waiting for the commander to continue. Sure enough, the situation in the second battle made many of them frown. “The second battle took place near a small village on the northern outskirts of Brovary. We had 14 killed in action. Subsequently, two experienced Panther tank crews were ordered to the scene to assess the situation. They were completely annihilated by Soviet tanks.”

“The most recent engagement took place in the central part of Brovary, right here! A grenadier division next to us was attacked. One StuG III and one StuG IV were destroyed. It’s about 19 kilometers from our current position,” the commander said, ignoring the murmurs from below and recounting all the recent battles in one go.

“Five armored vehicles of various types destroyed. The enemy is clearly targeting our armored forces!” Marcus said to Rein, his usual smirk gone. “It seems they really do have a tank that can deal with us.”

“That’s right!” The battalion commander took out a drawing; they clearly hadn’t gotten a photograph yet. But the three-view drawing was very clear. “Our engineers are calling this tank the ‘Stalin’ tank. It’s equipped with a 122mm cannon. Based on the wreck of one we recovered from the field, we believe it can penetrate the frontal armor of an improved Panther at a range of 500 to 1000 meters.”

“My God, that means our Tiger tanks aren’t very safe either. At a range of about 500 meters, they might be penetrated, right?” Marcus said, staring at the three-view drawing and a photo of the destroyed Stalin tank, looking frustrated. The Tiger had been an absolutely invincible superweapon. Now it seemed the enemy finally had a way to deal with it.

Published: 2025-09-13T02:46:57.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-02-02T20:27:54.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c636-138783173

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