Chapter 844: The Unfurled Flag

At that moment, the German heavy artillery began to roar. Four of the newest towed 203mm heavy howitzers, just produced by the Krupp works, could be considered the latest corps-level fire support weapon under the Krupp artillery group, and also the most advanced large-caliber howitzer currently produced by Germany itself.

Due to the needs of the war, and also due to Krupp’s repeated requests, and finally relying on the innovation of Krupp’s artillery production technology, this cannon had barely met the German army’s technical requirement standards and was authorized for the production of 100 units to equip Army Groups A and E for observation and improvement.

Now, the German soldiers, with their heavy artillery, were very happy. They were using their shells to greet the Soviet Red Army, to see if their opponent dared to compete with them in terms of firepower, range, and caliber. Huge shells exploded inside the city, and once again, a collision of steel and flame was taking place here.

The Soviet army knew they had no way out, so they resisted to the death. These soldiers fired fiercely, then, leaning against the back of a doorway, they launched an attack on the German troops who were trying to advance down the corridor. These soldiers held their Mosin-Nagants, and after every shot, they had to lower the rifle to work the bolt.

A Soviet soldier charged out of a doorway, holding a new model PPSh submachine gun. He pulled the trigger in the direction of the German troops, and a dense, continuous sound of gunfire rang out. The German fire was temporarily suppressed. A German soldier charging forward with a Mauser rifle was hit by the bullets from the PPSh, cried out, and fell to the ground, dead.

The German soldiers beside Kuris would not sit and wait to be killed. Two grenadiers with MP-44 assault rifles took the lead. They charged through the corridor, using a dense rain of bullets to cover their comrades behind them, and captured another room as a forward base. The Soviet army counter-attacked desperately, and some Soviet commanders even fired frantically with their pistols.

The alternating gunfight continued. A German rifleman with a Mauser 98k poked his head out, raised his rifle, and fired a shot in the direction of the enemy. He then retreated back into the corner, letting the enemy’s bullets riddle the corner where he had just been with a dense pattern of craters.

Opposite this corner, a German soldier hiding in the doorway of a room on the other side also opened fire. A bullet accurately hit the Soviet soldier who was holding the PPSh submachine gun, and the firepower on the Soviet side was immediately reduced. A Soviet soldier wanted to pick up the submachine gun that had fallen on the corridor floor but was hit by a German bullet and fell, his body contorting in unwilling defeat.

Compared to the German army, which had assault rifles and semi-automatic rifles, most of the Soviet soldiers only had a single-shot Mosin-Nagant in their hands. Their firepower density was clearly not comparable. The German army began to clear the Soviet soldiers out of the rooms one by one. By the time they reached the second-floor staircase, these Soviets had clearly lost any effective organization and had fallen into a panic.

Crack! A Soviet officer stood at the top of the third-floor staircase, fired a shot down the stairs with his pistol, and then, in despair, pointed the muzzle at his own head. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. A bullet shot out of the muzzle and passed directly through his head. Blood splattered on the wall, looking like an abstract painting.

The German army finished off the last two Soviet soldiers with long rifles on the stairs and charged up to the third floor. With that, the organized resistance of the Soviets completely collapsed. Some Soviet officers committed suicide in their rooms, while others raised their hands in surrender to the charging German soldiers. The situation was gradually brought under control.

“Long live the great Soviet Union!” a high-ranking Soviet officer shouted, waving his pistol and firing frantically in the corridor. He seemed a little crazed, not at all like he was firing normally. Seeing that he was a high-ranking officer, the German soldiers had at first tried to capture him, but in the end, because it was too dangerous, they had given up the attempt and had shot him down at the end of the corridor.

“He was the supreme commander here, a corps commander of a front army,” a captured Soviet colonel said, being escorted to look at the general lying on the ground. He identified him for the Germans with some regret. “He started acting crazy yesterday. It seems he failed to complete his mission and had some mental problems.”

Confirming this unexpected gain, and having also finished off the supreme commander of the Soviet Red Army’s Smolensk front and captured an entire headquarters of high-ranking officers, this attack could already be said to be a sure win.

And at this moment, Kuris was leading a few men to open the skylight on the roof. He unfolded the huge German national flag from his backpack, while his two assistants behind him were struggling to connect the steel flagpole sections together. Their mission was about to be completed, a very gratifying thing.

“Put it on, get this flag on!” Kuris found the edge of the flag and aimed the opening at the ever-lengthening flagpole. Kuris and his few comrades fixed the flagpole to a spot on the roof that had originally been used for hanging a flag, and then let go of the rest of the flag. Soon, a huge German swastika flag unfurled in the wind, becoming a long, flowing banner.

A Soviet soldier in a trench not far away was stunned by the scene before him. He saw someone on the roof of the building unfurl a national flag, an enemy’s national flag. That building was a place they had been defending to the death, and now it had become the land of an enemy country!

“No! That place belongs to us! To us!” This Soviet soldier worked the bolt of the rifle in his hand. An empty shell fell to his feet. He then pushed a round into his chamber and, aiming at the blurry figures on the top of that building, pulled the trigger of his rifle.

On the roof of the building, Kuris felt a bullet fly by. He instinctively dodged, but the bullet still hit him from behind. He staggered, then looked at his comrades facing him. Feeling himself begin to fall backward, he reached out his arm to grab something, but it was all in vain. In the end, his fingers brushed past the silky-smooth national flag, but he caught nothing.

He fell on his back and then just like that, he fell from the roof. The German soldiers who had witnessed this scene were all silent. The dark figure finally crashed onto the ground at the corner of the building, the sound pitifully small in the noisy battlefield. But all the German soldiers who had seen this fall felt as if they had heard that sound, heard that “thud” that struck their chests.

The remaining Germans on the roof took cover. They had completed the mission of raising the flag. There was no need to die a meaningless death here. They briefly searched for the direction from which the enemy had fired, and after finding nothing, they retreated back into the skylight. The national flag still hung there, fluttering back and forth in the wind.

When the flag was raised to its highest point, the sound of gunfire within the building had not yet subsided. Just as the Soviets were holding their shattered positions in this city, the Soviet soldiers in the building were still trying to hold their own rooms or a certain section of the corridor. From time to time, one could still hear someone shouting “Long live the motherland,” but the words were filled with an immense despair.

Apart from the family of the fallen soldier himself, it seemed no one would mourn the death of a German soldier, and no one, just because a flag was hung on the highest point of the city, would stop the killing and the counter-attack. The battle was still going on, but the German offensive had become even more ferocious than before.

Before the Soviet soldier who had shot Kuris could even let out a cheer, the German retaliation arrived. Bullets rained down on the Soviet positions as densely as rain. As time went on, an assault gun even crashed through a low wall of sandbags on the side of the road and aimed its cannon at the Soviet positions.

The hull machine gun on the assault gun opened fire with a roar, pouring bullets onto the Soviet positions. Several Soviets who wanted to flee were cut down by the merciless bullets, their bodies instantly turned into a bloody mess. The Germans, under the cover of the assault gun, leaped out of their trenches and began to charge towards the Soviet positions. The Soviet soldier who had killed Kuris was subsequently hit by a stray bullet and died humbly in a corner of the trench, as silent as if he had never been there at all.

“Look! Look! Our flag! Our flag is there!” a German grenadier shouted excitedly to his comrades, having seen the German national flag that had been unfurled on the building. After shouting this, he himself seemed not to be satisfied and shouted again, “Greater Germany! Long live!”

“Long live Greater Germany!” More people began to cheer along with this phrase. On the highest point of Smolensk, the flag of Germany was now flying. This was the highest praise for all the German soldiers who had attacked Smolensk. The German soldiers further away began to sing their favorite songs, and the cheers rose, one wave after another.

“Long live! Long live the Führer!” In the command post, through the scissor periscope, several staff officers and generals saw their own troops storm the highest point of Smolensk. And so, in the trenches, in the shelters, and even in the troop assembly areas further away, one cheer after another rose and fell.

The cheers rose and fell, and soon they reached the distance. Carius, watching the cheers coming from that direction, turned his head to look at Rein behind him. “You see? You’re not the only one who wants to do something for the Führer, for Germany. We each have our own persistence, so don’t think that what you’re doing has nothing to do with what we’re doing.”

“It seems the cheers are coming from Smolensk. Does that mean Smolensk is ours now?” Rein said, not looking at the speaking Carius, but at the direction of Smolensk, muttering. “I know what you’re saying. I have my persistence, just as you have yours.”

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com