Chapter 820: Lottery

Rein’s side had indeed been drawn into a bitter fight. No matter how formidable the German armored forces were, no matter how brave the German paratroopers, they were still human. When faced with an enemy several times their number, they would also be suppressed and would suffer casualties.

Borol’s men had already lost nearly 15 men. Although they were maintaining the momentum of their attack, they no longer had any spare troops to defend and expand their flanks. This was very dangerous for an attacking force, because it meant that if they continued to advance, they were very likely to be encircled and annihilated.

As the commander of this attacking force, Rein had no intention of sitting and waiting for death in this situation. He called the paratrooper commander, Borol, on the radio, wanting to discuss an effective countermeasure. “Captain Borol, I know that continuing the attack is putting a great deal of pressure on you. I’d like to know if you can hold this position and wait for me to return.”

“Impossible, Captain Rein. In this situation, if I am to ensure my unit is not completely wiped out, I can give you no promises,” Borol said to Rein over his radio. “I can’t even hold on for five minutes. The enemy could break through our lines and cut off our retreat at any moment.”

Rein was silent for a few seconds, then he spoke, “How about this, Captain Borol. I will leave you two tanks to help you hold this position for 15 to 20 minutes. I can’t guarantee that I will get out in one piece myself. You must hold this place as a forward position for my retreat.”

“My God! Rein, you’re going to go it alone?” Markus’s voice came through the headset. “You’d better not be joking with your own life. If you leave our cover, you’ll probably be taken out by a swarm of Soviet soldiers after a kilometer.”

Rein pressed his throat microphone and replied, “I’m not joking. No matter how dense the air attack is, it’s impossible to destroy all the Soviet artillery. As long as one cannon is missed, the bridge could be destroyed.”

“So you’re going to sweep the entire Soviet position by yourself, looking for those cannons that you don’t even know where they are? That’s suicide!” Markus said, trying to persuade him. “You have no chance of completing such a mission, really, it’s impossible to complete.”

“Yes, I know. But I saw that target. There’s an artillery position on the front. I saw the branches of the trees swaying from the muzzle blast when they fired,” Rein said, holding his headset. “That place wasn’t bombed. I think they will be firing new shells soon, which is very disadvantageous for us.”

“My God, I think you’re crazy. And I think I’m crazy for agreeing to let you do this,” Markus said with frustration.

Rein turned off his company’s communication channel and, on his own tank’s channel, gave the order to continue the battle. “Alright! Baumann, now we’re going for a thrilling race. What I need from you now is to drive this tank as fast as it can go.”

“Andre, the armored targets in front are yours. Bruce, choose your shells correctly. We don’t have many left,” Rein said, assigning tasks while pulling out his own gun and chambering a round. “Alright, gentlemen, let’s go!”

Baumann put the tank in gear, and the Tiger’s well-tuned transmission sent the behemoth forward at an unprecedented speed. In theory, the Tiger’s cross-country speed could exceed 25 kilometers per hour, but in fact, in combat, German tanks rarely reached this terrifying speed. Even the lighter Panther would probably not challenge such an extreme situation.

But now this Tiger tank was driving at a terrifying 20 kilometers per hour. It crossed over the Soviet trenches, easily snapping the withered branches of the trees on the side of the road, and with all the speed it could muster, it approached the target it was going to destroy. From time to time, some Soviet soldiers would charge out of the jungle, but Alice’s machine gun made them regret their foolish action.

The terrifying rate of fire of the MG42 machine gun instantly turned the Soviet soldiers in front of the Tiger tank into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Severed limbs flew far, and even the tree trunks in the distance were snapped by the machine gun’s super-high rate of fire.

A Stalin tank parked in the woods adjusted the angle of its cannon and aimed at the German Tiger tank that was charging left and right on the Soviet position. The terrifying 122mm main gun shifted slightly and, at a specific position, fired its first fatal shell.

Perhaps because the accuracy of the Soviet tank’s aiming system was really not high, or perhaps because the combat quality of the Soviet tank crew was not yet as terrifying as the Germans’, or perhaps because the Rein Hardt crew’s luck was simply too good, in any case, this shell missed its target. It grazed past the rear of Rein’s tank, just missing the exhaust pipe, and let the Rein Hardt crew escape a disaster.

Rein had also spotted a Soviet tank on his flank that was a sufficient threat to them, but in this situation, he could only use the intercom to remind his comrades to be careful. Because to turn the tank’s turret to finish off the enemy would clearly take a lot of time, and what the Rein Hardt crew lacked most was precisely time.

Some Soviet soldiers had circled around to the rear of the Tiger tank, attempting to approach the behemoth from behind. They followed quickly behind the Tiger’s exhaust pipe, preparing to throw the hand grenades in their hands onto the Tiger’s engine grille.

“Alice! Cover me,” Rein shouted. He then reached up and threw open his hatch, turned around, and stuck his assault rifle out from the side of the hatch to the very rear of the tank.

Rat-tat! Rat-tat-tat! With a series of precise bursts, Rein’s assault rifle cut down one after another of the Soviet soldiers who were following behind the tank. One of the Soviet soldiers was already holding a hand grenade. He was hit and fell, the grenade slipping from his hand and landing beside him. It then exploded, blowing away all four or five of the Soviet soldiers around him.

“Baumann! Can you go any faster! Their infantry are already beginning to threaten our rear!” Rein said, ducking back into the turret and changing the magazine of his assault rifle while shouting at the driver, Baumann.

“The tank’s tracks are already at their limit. We’ve made such a long forced march. If I hadn’t been maintaining this tank’s running gear in my spare time, it would have been scrapped on the road long ago,” Baumann replied to Rein’s suggestion as he forcefully pulled the gearshift, letting the tank adapt to an upcoming large crater. “This is the fastest speed. Any faster and the tracks might break.”

Rein slammed the magazine into his assault rifle, then forcefully worked the action. He poked his head out again and, bypassing the tank’s hatch, continued to fire to the rear. Several unlucky Soviet soldiers fell with the sound of the shots. The other Soviet soldiers who were following had no choice but to find cover, and at once, the distance between them and the nearby Tiger tank was widened.

But the Soviet soldiers who were providing covering fire were not idle either. Bullets rained down on the tank’s hatch, and the sparks and ricocheting bullets forced Rein to duck his head back once again.

Closer, and closer. The Soviet artillery position that had been firing in the first round had been spotted by Rein, but after an armed helicopter had attacked this place, this position had not fired again. But Rein knew that the helicopter had not hit the truly critical part of this artillery position. It could be said that this position had not been completely destroyed.

Andre’s cannon was already pointed at the artillery position, and the Stalin tank on the side had already fired its second shell. This shell also missed Rein’s tank, snapping a very thick tree near Rein’s tank and sending a shower of splintered wood.

“Their cannons are still there! They haven’t been destroyed!” Through the tank’s sight, Andre saw the enemy soldiers struggling to salvage a tilted cannon. This 203mm towed artillery piece looked very large, and the Soviet artillerymen were working hard to restore the cannon’s tilt, which had been caused by the bombing. After their efforts, this cannon seemed to have entered a firing state and could fire a new round at any time.

“We’re out of high-explosive rounds! We used them all up covering Borol and the others just now,” Bruce reported with some resignation, stuffing an armor-piercing round into Andre’s breech.

“Armor-piercing it is!” Andre said without much ado, comforting Bruce as he aimed the cannon at the enemy’s artillery position. “Baumann, stop! I’m firing!”

The Tiger tank made a short, sharp stop. Due to its mass, the entire tank tilted forward a little. The inertia made the whole tank shake. Andre fired his first shell without waiting for the shaking to stop. This shell flew towards its target, crossed a long distance, grazed the edges of a few large trees, and, without deviating, struck the support of this large cannon.

And at that very moment, Rein saw the enemy’s cannon also spew dazzling flames. A huge shell was pushed out of the barrel. This cannon had also fired a fatal shot at the same time. Rein was shocked to see that huge thing disintegrate from the recoil. The gun carriage, which had been torn and damaged by the armor-piercing round, collapsed under the force of the recoil and finally became a pile of scrap iron.

This shell cut through the sky and finally landed on the riverbank not far from the bridge. The proximity was unprecedented, and the effect it produced was definitely something that would please the Soviets. The bridge, under the push of the huge shockwave, collapsed with a roar. The slope on one side began to break and fall away.

It was as if they had bought a lottery ticket. The Soviets’ luck was a little too good. At least at this very moment, God was on the Soviet side.

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