Chapter 815: Cunning Wolf
Regarding the matter of shelling the bridge, the final result was satisfactory enough for Rokossovsky. At least under the current artillery conditions, the mission to shell the bridge could be completed. So after a brief meeting and a series of action plans were finalized, Rokossovsky declared the meeting over.
He walked back to his office and saw Wolf already waiting there, sitting with his legs crossed, not saying a word. Rokossovsky slowly walked back behind his desk, looked at the man with the scar on his face, and asked, “If I were to have you retake the railway bridge right now… are you confident?”
“Impossible!” Wolf’s unique, somewhat eerie voice sounded, tinged with a hint of disdain. “I warned you, but at that time we didn’t know what the Germans were planning… Now that place has been occupied by their paratroopers. By the time I get there with my tank, it will almost be dawn. They just need to delay for a little while, and I’ll be forced to retreat… If things go wrong, I might even die there myself.”
After saying this, he stood up and walked casually to the door. “When the time is right, I will make my move. I know he’s here. I can feel it. I will kill him, and then I will hang his head on the front of my tank as a souvenir!”
Wolf was ferocious, even more so than Rein when it came to killing. But he was no muscle-headed fool with questionable intelligence. On the contrary, he was a cunning wolf, a primordial beast of the utmost cunning. He would never easily put himself in danger. This was a lesson he had learned along with Rein at the Wolf Knight Academy.
So, even though he sensed Rein’s arrival, he still waited very cautiously for an opportunity, hiding himself in the dark, secretly observing his prey. What he wanted was a surefire death trap for Rein, not a risky challenge against superior German forces.
The attack planes and bombers in the sky could appear in time, destroying the Soviet tanks and helping to repulse the Soviet attack. To charge out rashly under such circumstances was a thankless job. In Wolf’s eyes, that was a job for cannon fodder, and had nothing to do with him, a man destined to become the strongest.
Charge straight in? What a joke. He was just a soldier. Where had anyone heard of a single soldier who could shoot down planes, destroy tanks, and fight hundreds of men at once? Besides, Wolf only had a vague intuition that Rein might be nearby. He wasn’t a radar; he couldn’t see clearly where Rein was…
In short, the cautious Wolf had given up on this battle. The reason he could always guarantee a win was because he never easily participated in a battle where the outcome was uncertain. Compared to that railway bridge, Wolf was more optimistic about Stalingrad. That was his ideal place for a decisive battle.
By the time the first ray of dawn appeared in the sky, Borol and Donner felt that their bodies were on the verge of collapse. They had not slept all night. The position was littered with the bodies of over a thousand Soviet soldiers, as well as the remains of more than two hundred German paratroopers.
They had fought fiercely for a whole night, repeatedly contesting those few inconspicuous trenches. Flares had illuminated the land almost without a break. Near the bridgehead of this bridge, Borol’s troops had even engaged in a bloody bayonet fight with the charging Soviets. For one trench, Borol’s battalion had lost a company commander and three platoon leaders.
The 3rd German Parachute Battalion had arrived nearby to reinforce them, which had barely managed to stabilize the position. In order to allow the German army to continuously advance along this railway, the German army could be said to be fighting for every inch and every second. In one day and one night, they had lost nearly 270 men here—almost half the strength of a parachute battalion.
As the battalion commander, Borol lit the cigarette between his fingers and squinted, feeling the warmth of the sun. In any case, he had held his position. This was the glorious tradition of the German paratroopers, and also the persistence of a first-generation veteran of the German paratroopers.
The sun was extremely important for the German army. With the sun, Germany’s most powerful attack aircraft units could be deployed, to weaken the enemy’s offensive strength in advance. The situation of one tank after another would not happen again, and their defensive pressure would also be suddenly reduced.
With the sun, the German armored units could be sent out to provide support. The German paratroopers and grenadiers, with their powerful anti-tank weapons, were several times more terrifying than without them. As long as the German tanks could destroy the enemy tanks in time, then the infantry could guarantee their positions were as solid as a rock.
But the first thing that met the German army’s eyes was the Soviet position in front of them. One after another, the Soviet tanks charged out. Three Stalin tanks, with at least 10 T-34s, opened the prelude to the first slaughter of the morning with a menacing air.
In an instant, an atmosphere of despair enveloped the German paratroopers. They felt that these Soviet tanks had now become giant monsters, so terrifying it was suffocating. They were exhausted and had completely lost the ability to fight a life-or-death battle with these newly committed Soviet tanks.
The seconds ticked by. In the end, the Soviet tanks had already approached to a very close distance. The German paratroopers held their breath, watching these monsters gradually approach, their weapons in their hands.
“Where are our tanks?” a young German paratrooper asked, lying on the trench, holding his G43 rifle, his tone filled with a mournful sigh. His voice was not loud, but it made the few people around him even more dejected.
BOOM! On the bridge, a German Tiger tank suddenly opened fire, shattering the anxious silence on the position. A shell whistled through the air, cutting through it with its unparalleled speed and crashing into its target. On the frontal armor plate of a Stalin tank that had just been so imposing a moment ago, it left a charred hole.
The huge kinetic energy made the hit Stalin tank tremble. The German tank’s tungsten-core armor-piercing round was truly terrifying in its penetrating power. This shell had easily pierced the frontal armor of the Stalin tank, ruthlessly killing the fragile crew inside.
Before the attacking Soviet tank units could figure out what had happened, several more shells arrived one after another, destroying the Soviet tanks that were closest to the German positions one by one. The entire battlefield was filled with the explosions of Soviet tanks that had been advancing just a few minutes ago. The rising black smoke blotted out the sun, a frightening sight.
“It’s our tanks! Great! Our tanks have arrived!” a young German soldier on the position screamed. The despair and helplessness of a moment ago had suddenly turned into a grand carnival of killing. How could it not make one overjoyed? At the very least, the German positions had erupted in cheers, and everyone let out a heartfelt cry of joy.
“They finally came! This time, we’re really saved!” Borol threw the MP-44 assault rifle he had picked up from a corpse to his feet. His whole body, as if paralyzed, sat down in the trench, panting heavily and grinning foolishly at the one-armed Donner beside him.
On the radio, Rein’s voice came through. Although there was some interference, it sounded as pleasant as music. “This is Captain Rein of the 502nd Heavy Panzerjäger Battalion. I am leading my unit to reinforce the defense line here. I repeat… I am leading my unit to reinforce the defense line here.”
“Welcome! If you hadn’t come, you’d be collecting our corpses,” Borol said to Rein, grabbing the microphone from the radio operator’s hand.
“Collecting corpses is a job for the rear echelon. I’m just here to take care of the matter at hand!” Rein’s voice came through the headset, making Borol laugh out loud. With Borol’s laughter, several more Soviet tanks exploded, turning into balls of dancing flames.
The entire battlefield, with the addition of three Tiger tanks, had turned into a one-sided slaughter. The Soviet Stalin tanks had been exposed too early and had been almost immediately taken out by the German tanks. The remaining T-34s and KV-1s were no match for the Tiger tanks at all. They could only rely on their numbers to desperately shorten the distance between them, in the hope of having the ability to fire a shot that could threaten a German tank when they were destroyed.
And the German tanks, unhurriedly, drove off the railway bridge and chose their firing positions on the German positions. They fired continuously, and with the astonishing accuracy of their ace crews, they destroyed the approaching Soviet tanks one after another at a relatively safe distance, as if playing a shooting game.
“Hello? Hello? This is Vanokov… Comrade Commander. Bad news! Our attack has failed! The German tanks have appeared on the battlefield… Yes! To retake the bridge with a ground attack is no longer possible… I can try again…” On the Soviet position, the frontline commander, having lowered his binoculars and seeing that his another attack had been repulsed, began to contact the general headquarters according to the plan.
Rokossovsky finally let out a helpless sigh and decided to abandon the frontline troops who could no longer disengage and to blow up this important railway bridge. “Alright, try one more time. If it doesn’t work, then give the order to execute the plan to destroy the bridge.”
“Try one more time?… Yes! Comrade Commander!” On the other side, the commander named Vanokov put down the phone and gave the order for another doomed attack. The Soviet troops continued their fierce assault, and the Germans, taking advantage of the recent Soviet retreat, had retaken many of their defensive positions. The struggle between the two sides began again.
Rein cautiously dealt with the Soviet tank attack. He had handed over the firing authority to Andre and was frequently observing the surroundings of the battlefield with his periscope. Because he felt that Wolf might appear here, he had to be extremely careful.
Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com