Chapter 925: God Knows

As Akado and his advisors discussed how to deal with Italy’s defection, on the front lines, a Tiger tank was charging towards several oncoming Soviet tanks.

Its dark cannon aimed at a Soviet T-34 that was closing in on the position with great force. Suddenly, a ball of fire erupted from the muzzle, and an armor-piercing shell slammed into the Soviet tank’s armor plate.

A huge explosion swelled from within the Soviet T-34, blowing its turret clean off and stopping its advance. But just to the side of this T-34, another Soviet T-34 emerged, continuing to move towards the Tiger’s flank.

“My God! There are too many of them!” the Tiger’s driver complained loudly as he reversed. Beside him, the radio operator was relentlessly firing his machine gun.

BOOM! The cannon roared again, a huge flame spewing from its barrel. A shell struck a distant Stalin tank that had been firing on them, but due to the range, the fatal 88mm shell was deflected by the Stalin’s frontal armor.

“Damn it! No penetration! No penetration! Reload! Reload! Faster!” The gunner pulled his eye from the sight, shouting for his loader to quickly ram in a new shell.

A shell streaked in from the distance, striking the corner of the Tiger’s thick frontal armor and then, with immense inertia, ricocheting up into the sky. The terrifying impact shook loose the paint on the tank’s armor and some of the small tools hanging on it. The entire tank shuddered from the blow.

“God! We’re hit!” the loader screamed, his face pale with fear.

“Shut up! Keep loading, we haven’t been penetrated! Gunner, destroy that Stalin tank! Otherwise, we’re all done for!” the commander ordered the gunner with a frown. “Prioritize that Stalin that just took a cheap shot! Watch out for the T-34s around it.”

BOOM! The gunner was not idle. He decisively fired another shot. The barrel, covered in white kill rings, spat fire once more. The shell, like a beam of light, shot towards the distant Stalin tank.

This time, the new tungsten-core shell pierced the Stalin tank’s frontal armor, leaving a fist-sized black hole in the thick steel. The Stalin tank slowed its advance and finally came to a stop in front of a rock.

Flames erupted from the tank’s seams, and the burning driver and commander scrambled out, contorting their bodies. They slapped at the flames, letting out terrifying screams. Even without hearing the sound, their movements conveyed their agony.

BOOM! This time it wasn’t the Tiger that fired, but a Soviet T-34 that had circled to its flank. The shell struck the Tiger’s side armor, instantly piercing it and entering the interior compartment.

A torrent of shattered armor and ricocheting shrapnel filled the Tiger’s entire cabin with sparks. The solid fortress had instantly become a fragile cage. The shrapnel immediately tore through the loader, who was closest to the impact point, and then easily blew the gunner’s head off.

Blood splattered everywhere. The temperature in the air began to rise sharply. Everyone knew the fuel had probably been ignited, so as long as they were still breathing, they had to think about escaping this steel coffin immediately.

Unfortunately, the shrapnel had not only taken out the loader and the gunner but had also blown off one of the commander’s lower legs. The driver lay in his seat, spitting up bloody bubbles. Only the radio operator, furthest from the impact, had luckily escaped injury.

At this moment, he was the only one who could escape. So he, without a second thought, threw open the hatch of his compartment. The commander was struggling to get up from his position. The others were already silent.

The radio operator had just poked his head out of the hatch when he was hit by a flying bullet. The unlucky fellow sat back down in his seat, his head now only a lower half.

The temperature had reached a certain point. The high-flashpoint diesel fuel began to burn, and flames shot out. This tank was now in danger of exploding at any moment. The crippled commander touched the Iron Cross hanging from his collar and closed his eyes with a smile.

A massive explosion began. The Tiger tank’s turret was lifted into the air by the irresistible energy, and then it fell straight down, landing back on the tank’s hull, just slightly offset. The entire tank’s state was like that of a man whose neck had been broken.

And in the distance from this tank, there was another burning Tiger. The tattered number on its turret was still faintly visible. The “G” written on the front of its hull marked it as belonging to a panzer unit of G Army Group. But now it had been retired. Having been hit by a shell, several of this tank’s road wheels had been blown far, far away.

Even further away, two Tiger tanks lay scrapped in a field, one behind the other. They had both been destroyed by the enemy, and there were some charred bodies around their hulls. Clearly, these crew members, like the burned Soviet tankers, had been set ablaze before they could even jump out of their vehicles. They had not been able to survive, leaving only their grotesque shells behind.

Counting the Tiger tank in the far distance, an ace armored company had been annihilated in the open field during a constant retreat. The frantic Soviet offensive was difficult for the Germans to withstand, and many units had paid a heavy price. Some of the main force units had to be broken up to plug the gaps for the heavily damaged units, and as soon as a failure occurred, these armored units would be completely lost.

This tank company had been ordered to cover the retreat of a nearby grenadier regiment and had ultimately been lost here. Before they were annihilated, they had taken out approximately 40 elite tanks from the Soviet 1st Guards Front. These were not the makeshift KV-1s or the outdated T-26s, but genuine combat-effective T-34s and Stalin tanks.

On just these few square kilometers of land, the wrecks of 45 tanks were piled up. Counting the cars and armored vehicles taken out by the German planes, there were at least 100 wrecks of various equipment within a ten-kilometer radius. Burning steel was everywhere, scrapped machinery was everywhere.

The Germans had already lost nine Panther tanks in this area. An armored battalion had been forced to abandon its position due to these losses. The total number of Guderian’s armored units was rapidly decreasing… Of course, the armored units of Zhukov, opposite him, had lost even more.

An armored regiment from the 1st Wehrmacht Panzer Division had already been forced to withdraw for rest and refit due to heavy losses. The 14th SS Panzer Division, temporarily assigned to Guderian, had also suffered heavy losses in battle and had had to return to N Army Group to await replacements. In other words, two of Guderian’s panzer divisions had now been forced to retreat. At least in the opening stages of the Battle of Kursk, his G Army Group was being suppressed by the enemy’s armored forces.

Both Guderian and Zhukov were under immense psychological pressure. The units in their hands were the most elite forces in their respective countries. To build these elite units, both the Soviet Union and Germany had invested an unimaginable amount of manpower and material resources. And now these investments were disappearing like water, everything seemed to be vanishing like smoke.

It should be known that on the German side, many of the lost tank crews were ace crews who had destroyed more than ten enemy tanks. The German army had paid an countless amount of blood and sweat to train these elite armored units. But now, these aces were being lost at a visible rate. Anyone in this situation would probably spit up three liters of blood…

Many of the lost crews, Guderian had met in person, had even personally awarded them medals. He knew the commanders of these crews and had had lunch or dinner with many of them. Many were veterans who had followed him all the way from France. They had survived countless days and nights of battle, only to lose their precious lives here.

Everyone knew that such heavy losses were too painful to bear. But apart from G Army Group, the most elite of the German armored forces, which other unit could stop such a massive Soviet armored force from advancing south? And even if there were such a unit, wouldn’t it also be a pity to lose it here?

And, it should be known, Zhukov opposite him was now in an even greater state of collapse. His southward-advancing main force was the Soviet Union’s last trump card. These units were, without exception, the Soviet Union’s most reliable super-main force. Now these few thousand tanks were being lost at a rate of several hundred a day. In less than a month, this hope of the Soviet Union would be completely gone. But heaven only knew, a month later, how far Zhukov would still have to go to reach Kharkov and Stalingrad.

Sitting in a jeep from American aid, Zhukov looked at the burning Stalin tank on the plain. He knew that all of this was the munitions and supplies that the entire Soviet Union had saved for him by tightening its belt. And now, all he could do was to drive past these steel ruins and continue towards his objective.

God knows how long this war of shedding the last drop of blood would go on. God knows how long this largest tank battle in human history would be fought. God knows who, between Guderian and Zhukov, would win this campaign, and who would fall at the last moment.

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