Chapter 803: Cover-up

“Alright! Alice of tank No. 113, when you return to the assembly area, write a self-criticism report and submit it to the battalion headquarters! 1st Company will coordinate with the grenadiers to control this patch of woods! The repair team’s tow trucks, prioritize getting that captured new Soviet tank back,” the battalion commander’s voice came through the headset. He was rather nonchalant about this breach of military discipline. This was not the first or second time the crew of No. 113 had committed such an occasional breach.

But just as teachers dote on the good students in their class, commanders are also unwilling to be too harsh on their brave and battle-hardened soldiers. Soldiers with personality who can fight tough battles and bring back victory are tolerated by all commanders. At least for the battalion headquarters of the 502nd, everyone was very fond of the crew of No. 113.

The principles of the world are almost all interconnected. So don’t be surprised why, for the top students in school, the teachers are extremely easy to get along with. And don’t be surprised why, for the key members of a business, the strict boss is as kind as their own father… Sometimes one has to regretfully admit that for those with ability, the whole world is exceptionally tolerant.

The night has two benefits for the front lines in wartime. The first is that when no one wants to fight, the arrival of night can provide an appropriate reason for a ceasefire. The second is that when some people want to do something, the night can also provide the cover of darkness.

Just as Alice was angrily writing her self-criticism, on the German positions, a somewhat sloppy artillery attack suddenly began. Fifteen self-propelled 150mm howitzers, which were advancing with the armored units, let out a deadly roar in what should have been a quiet night.

The shells slammed into the Soviet Red Army’s positions, kicking up a dazzling blaze. But at night, this light did not last long. In just a few dozen seconds, everything returned to darkness. This artillery fire had not been measured in any way; it seemed to be just to vent the suppressed anger in their hearts.

BOOM! An explosion occurred at the edge of a Soviet position. The huge blast wave rushed into a nearby trench, making everyone unable to open their eyes. This shell had no accuracy. Apart from leaving a huge crater in front of the position, it had almost no other effect.

In the trench, a veteran Soviet soldier held his helmet with one hand and did not forget to protect the cigarette dangling from his mouth with the other. The Germans almost never launched attacks at night, in order to leverage their firepower and reduce casualties. Therefore, this old Soviet soldier was not panicked at all. He just shook his head, shook off the debris and dust from his body, and cursed as he smoked, “These damn Krauts, I wonder what’s gotten into them today.”

Beside him, another Soviet soldier was holding his rifle. He seemed to have heard some strange sounds. He poked his head out to observe for a few moments, but did not find anything suspicious worth noting. He then pulled his body back, shook his head, and said, “I don’t know why they’re firing. There’s no accuracy at all…”

Artillery was not the German army’s strong suit. At least compared to other branches, their strength was not great. But this was only in comparison to the powerful other branches of the German army. At least in a horizontal comparison with the main participating countries, the German army’s artillery was actually quite formidable.

Originally, the German army had few artillery pieces, and their range was average. These had always been the two major stubborn ailments that plagued German artillery support. Now, by using captured British 140mm cannons and 203mm heavy guns, and by having the occupied territories of France and Belgium join in the production of artillery, the German army had somewhat made up for its embarrassing situation of having few cannons.

As for range, it had never been the main standard for the German army to measure the performance of its artillery. They preferred lightweight towed artillery, or simply assault guns and self-propelled guns modified from tank chassis. To put it bluntly, the German army liked artillery that could keep up with their speed of advance. As for other performances, they could only be ranked behind.

Therefore, this also made the tactics used by the German artillery different from those of other countries. They were good at operating very close to the front lines, using precise targeted fire or short salvos to support the frontline infantry or armored troops. They did not like to carry out suppressive fire and other tactics that made them feel at a disadvantage.

To this day, the German army’s 105mm self-propelled howitzer was still suppressed by the Soviet-equipped 122mm howitzer, and the German 150mm howitzer was also helpless against the Soviet 152mm cannon. But these German artillerymen had their own pride. Using mules, horses, and trucks, they had accomplished the feat of transporting a thousand cannons at the fastest speed in the world to accompany their tanks in an attack.

Looking at the constantly exploding horizon in the distance, Rein held his mess tin. For the first time, he felt that in that instant, the suddenly firing Alice had a certain charm that fascinated him. A strange feeling appeared in his heart, which he could not describe or explain.

“What’s wrong with the artillery of the 1st Panzer Corps?” Andre also looked at the horizon, which would occasionally be revealed by an explosion and then be submerged in the dark of night as the explosion faded.

“There’s no attack without a reason. If it seems the enemy has made some strange and bizarre move, then you have to think carefully about what kind of terrible trick the enemy is hiding under this messy and chaotic surface,” Rein said, looking at Andre and then pointing to a distant place. “I’ll bet that if this kind of noise isn’t covering something up, then it’s really a ghost.”

…

“If it’s not covering something up, then it’s really a ghost!” Rokossovsky, in a concealed command post on the outskirts of Stalingrad, heard the news of the rumbling cannons on the front line. He threw on his clothes and walked to the map, frowning at his deputy. “The Germans have never wasted ammunition so randomly. For something like this to suddenly happen, it must be…”

Suddenly he was taken aback, then looked at his deputy. “Have the air defense units on alert! The enemy may have planes that have crossed the border!” He thought of the possible attack methods the Germans might have arranged. It could be a large-scale night bombing. In order to cover it up, they were randomly firing on the front line to cover up the obvious sound of the engine engines in the quiet night sky.

He then asked another officer beside him, “By the way, the radar sent from the United States… the one that can detect enemy planes, how is the installation going?”

“Your Excellency, General, the American operators who came with it are currently training our soldiers. It can’t be put into practical use yet…” the officer replied, a little sheepishly. After all, for the Soviet Union, this kind of high-tech gadget was still a very rare piece of equipment, and there were not many talents who could understand and use it. First of all, the instruments were all in English, which limited the use of this equipment by many Soviet soldiers.

“There’s no hurry! For now, let’s operate according to our night air defense plan! Don’t get into a mess!” Rokossovsky was clearly in no mood to pursue the progress of using the American equipment at this time. He also knew that a total of only 10 sets of this equipment had been sent. Two sets were being secretly disassembled and analyzed for reverse-engineering. Most of the rest were deployed in the direction of Moscow. The fact that he could be allocated one set was mostly because the city behind him was called Stalingrad.

“Sound the city’s air-raid sirens! The Germans have been making a racket for more than two hours now. We need to be prepared to prevent German planes from suddenly appearing over the city!” an officer from the air defense department suggested.

“Are you planning to sound the air-raid siren and mobilize every time the Germans shell the front?” Rokossovsky asked with a frown. The officer also knew that his action was a bit reckless and lowered his head, not speaking again.

“The scale of the aircraft formations that can be sortied at night is limited, and their bombing accuracy is very low. There’s no need to be too nervous,” Rokossovsky said. He always felt that there was something strange about the German planes taking off at night to bomb. In fact, the results that could be achieved by covering a bombing raid with such a big fuss were really limited.

His keen intuition made him feel that the Germans were not covering for a night bomber raid. But as for what it was for, he really had no clue. Airborne paratroopers were a concern of his, but to airdrop paratroopers on a front with such a high density of troops was undoubtedly a tactic of “killing a thousand of the enemy and losing one thousand five hundred of one’s own.” How insane would a German commander have to be to come up with such a suicidal tactic?

By the time the German bombers had entered the skies over Stalingrad, the air-raid sirens had been sounded. But there did not seem to be many German planes, perhaps only ten or twenty. These bombers hastily dropped the bombs they were carrying, destroying some insignificant things, and then flew away in a hurry.

At this time, all the alerts on the Soviet side were lifted, and most people breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear that the Germans had only used their artillery to harass the front line in order to cover this not-so-successful night bombing. At least, this was what most of the commanders in the Soviet Red Army thought.

However, Rokossovsky was still not sure, because he felt that his intuition would not deceive him. So he felt that this attack, the Germans were still hiding some more terrible purpose behind it. Only in this way could it be explained why the German army would make such a big fuss, intending to cover something up.

On the German position, Rein listened to the roar of the returning German bombers, which had deliberately lowered their altitude, and a strange smile appeared on his face. He was more certain than anyone that this German raid was not ordinary, but a well-prepared, truly bizarre and cunning blow.

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