Chapter 927: Tank Annihilation Battle

Rein’s King Tiger ceased its deep penetration into the Soviet lines, then swung around and began to scythe laterally through their positions. The two King Tigers, one after the other, advanced along the road to the right flank, wiping out numerous Soviet units resting on the roadside along the way.

Then, in Rein’s binoculars, the shadow of the retreating Soviet armored force appeared. Those KV-1 and T-34 tanks, under the pressure of the German offensive, were pulling back from their defensive lines, slowly closing in on the road embankment.

“Target enemy tanks! Encircle them, finish them all!” Rein’s voice crackled over the intercom, giving the attack order to his gunner, Andre. The King Tiger’s barrel swung towards a distant, retreating T-34.

“Halt! Fire!” Rein commanded loudly. At his order, the King Tiger stopped its advance, and just two seconds later, Andre pressed the firing control. A shell flew from the barrel. As it screamed towards the enemy, Baumann was already beginning a slight turn, bringing the King Tiger’s front armor to face the direction of the Soviet tanks.

The Soviet tank drivers were still focused on the German Tigers to their front, completely unaware that doom was approaching from behind. Soon, the rearmost T-34 was struck by a German shell and erupted in a violent explosion.

On this battlefield, being hit by the enemy was already a common occurrence for the Soviet tankers, so no one paid any attention to whether it was the last tank or the first that was destroyed. Everyone was slowly reversing while returning fire at the German Tigers to their front. No one noticed that two more deadly enemies had already appeared behind them.

A few seconds after Rein’s gun had fired, Markus’s cannon also let out its own roar. The rear of a KV-1 was also hit by a shell, and another huge explosion sounded. The Soviets finally realized that something was not quite right.

Just as the Soviet commander was about to open his hatch and see for himself what was happening, Rein’s second shot went out. The shell accurately struck another T-34, instantly reducing it to its component parts.

This Soviet tank exploded, which also allowed the surrounding Soviet tanks to clearly see the direction from which the enemy was attacking. Now everyone finally understood where the enemy had come from, and they finally realized that they were now caught in a pincer attack.

“Turn around! Turn around! My God! Turn around!” the Soviet tank commander immediately ordered his units to begin turning their tanks, wanting to first take out the German tanks that were flanking them from behind and to open an escape route for himself. It was not that he was brilliant and decisive, but simply because he knew his unit could not defeat the German tanks to their front, so he had immediately thought of the method of turning and changing targets.

Unfortunately, it seemed the situation was changing faster than expected. In the process of turning, two more tanks were destroyed nearby. In this situation, even the Soviet commander had a basic grasp of the situation: the Germans behind them were not to be trifled with and seemed even more dangerous than the ones in front.

“My God, how did they get so far behind us?” that Soviet tank commander exclaimed. Through his own observation device, he had seen the two German tanks, using the roadbed as cover, firing frantically. The ambush position the enemy had chosen was excellent, it could simply be described as flawless.

While the Soviet commander was lamenting, Rein, inside his tank, gave the order to continue the attack. At his loud command of “Fire,” Andre continued to frantically pour out the ammunition from the King Tiger. One after another, the armor-piercing shells struck their targets, then sent black smoke billowing from those targets, and finally, they exploded in a raging fire.

Just as the Soviet tanks were being surrounded and attacked by the German tanks, an even more unfortunate event suddenly appeared before the Soviet tank drivers. Four Stuka dive bombers had joined the battle. These aerial killers, laden with bombs, dived down from the clouds one after another, accurately dropping the ammunition slung under their fuselages onto the heads of the Soviet armored forces.

The German tanks closed in from all four sides, and the Soviet tanks were destroyed by the Germans one after another. Resistance had become meaningless. The Soviet soldiers were just numbly waiting for their end to come. They believed in this vast country, believed in everything about the Soviet Union. They were willing to fight for Comrade Stalin until the very last second, just as the German soldiers were willing to fight for Führer Akado until their last breath.

These Soviet Red Army soldiers mechanically loaded shells into their cannons and then fired fiercely at the enemy. Although some of their shells were far, far from their targets, and some, even if they hit the target’s armor, could only be seen as deflected sparks, they still continued to load and fire, like cold machines, completing these prescribed tactical movements without emotion.

They were not fighting for themselves; they were also fighting for their families and children. Stalin’s order forbidding surrender was still in effect, and the families of those who had betrayed the country had indeed been sent to Siberia to suffer. So these Soviet soldiers would rather die in battle than surrender. They would rather give up their own lives to win a glimmer of hope for their families.

Of course, Rein would not pity these pitiful people either. Every shell Andre fired could accurately hit a slowly turning Soviet tank. Some were T-34s, some were KV-1s. Bruce was also mechanically loading ammunition, cursing the Soviet bastards who were overwhelming them with numbers as he did so.

In terms of cold-bloodedness and lack of pity, perhaps no one here could compare to Rein. So, even though he already knew that the Soviets in the encirclement were doomed, he still did not give the order to stop the attack. The shells were fired from the barrel one after another, taking away the struggling Soviet lives.

In the gunsight, the gunner of the only remaining Soviet Stalin tank could only see half of the King Tiger’s turret. He knew that at such a great distance, the accuracy of his own sight was simply not enough to hit a target of that size, but he could only open fire, could only pin his hopes on that ethereal good luck.

And so, he prayed as he fired his shell, but this shell did not, because of his prayers, work any miracles. The armor-piercing round struck the roadbed in front of the King Tiger, kicking up a cloud of dust and having no other effect.

And beside this Stalin tank, a T-34 had already been hit in the rear by a bomb dropped from a Stuka dive bomber. It had burst into a raging fire and had exploded. The screws and parts had splattered onto the armor of this Stalin tank, making a clanging sound.

Rein’s goal was to vent his anger, so he had no intention of slowing down his attack. But he could still distinguish the difference between madness and foolishness, so he did not order his tank to drive onto the roadbed. That move, which would expose the lower armor of his hull, in the face of so many Soviet tanks, was really no different from suicide.

He and Markus were both just ambushing from the side of the roadbed, using the road as their cover, frantically pouring shells onto the heads of the unlucky Soviet tank units. Soon, Andre had destroyed his fifth Soviet tank, and the enemy, in the process, had finally turned their tanks around and had begun to charge towards Rein’s position.

Unfortunately for them, these Soviet tanks had forgotten that they were being attacked from both sides. When they turned their heads to face Rein, it also meant that they had exposed their rears to the German Tiger tanks that were chasing them. By the time the German Tiger tanks that were following behind had fired a round from their main guns, several more Soviet tanks were smoking and on fire, scrapped in this ever-shrinking encirclement.

“Keep firing!” the Soviet tank commander ordered his gunner loudly. This gunner, who was controlling the Stalin tank’s cannon, once again aimed at Rein’s vehicle, which was attacking them. A shell flew out of the barrel, but the result was that it landed on the road with no effect.

Rein had also spotted the enemy that was constantly firing at him, and a very threatening one at that. So he patted Andre on the shoulder and reminded him loudly, “Eleven o’clock, a Stalin tank. Take it out first!”

“No problem!” Andre pressed the electric traverse switch, and the King Tiger’s turret rotated a certain distance. The cannon accurately settled on the turret of that Stalin tank, without even needing any further adjustment. Andre gave a cold laugh, then instantly pressed the switch, and a shell sped towards its target.

With the sound of the shell casing clattering against the floor inside the tank, a flash of fire erupted from the body of the distant Stalin tank. Then this Soviet tank, in Rein’s observation scope, was torn to pieces. The turret was lifted into the air by the massive explosion and finally landed next to the wreck of a destroyed T-34.

The Soviet tank units, having lost their commander, were in even greater chaos. They were either taken out by the German planes or were destroyed by the pursuing Tiger tanks. Soon, the entire battlefield was nothing but a field of burning ruins. This massive battle of annihilation had, in one go, wiped out 65 Soviet tanks, annihilating a Soviet armored attack detachment (these detachments were formed in imitation of the German panzergrenadier combined arms attack units, and their strength was not fixed).

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