gnovel Chapter 102 The Entire Army—Attack!
Chapter 102 The Entire Army—Attack!
Chapter 102 The Entire Army—Attack!
Rewind to 20:05, 3.5 kilometers west of the Berthene River, at the front line of the German defenses.
Night vision environment level: Level IV (low light), visibility: 200 meters.
Sergeant McTavish was not riding a motorcycle.
To avoid the German forward acoustic survey posts, he and his reconnaissance platoon chose to advance for the first two kilometers after passing the bridgehead.
Six BMW R75 heavy motorcycles, borrowed from the 51st Heights Division and captured from the Germans, had their 750cc horizontally opposed twin-cylinder engines off. Twenty-four reconnaissance soldiers from the Cold Creek Guards, wearing rubber-soled boots, were pushing these motorcycles, each weighing 400...
A heavy metal machine, weighing several kilograms, moved silently in the drainage ditch beneath the roadbed.
Sweat streamed down McTavish's face, dripping onto the receiver of his MP40 submachine gun.
He silently calculated the distance in his mind.
At that moment, about 8 kilometers to the east, on the Amiens highway, a muffled explosion could be faintly heard. Occasionally, orange-red flashes of light appeared on the horizon.
That was the direction of Major Ryder's decoy convoy.
McTavish didn't turn around. Although he didn't know the specifics of the situation, he knew one thing: every explosion could mean that a truck belonging to the Norfolk Regiment had been reduced to parts by 150mm grenades.
That was the price paid in lives to cover the main force.
"God bless my good brothers," he prayed silently.
"We've passed the two-kilometer mark," the private reported in a low voice.
"Get in the car. Start at low RPMs."
McTavish straddled the back of the motorcycle sidecar. The driver pressed the start lever. The engine gave a low, labored sigh, then revved down to idle.
The convoy began to accelerate. Rubber tires rolled over the dry dirt road, stretching into the darkness to the west.
20:15, coordinate region X—Ray19.
The reconnaissance platoon halted its advance.
McTavish lay on a high spot behind a bush and raised his Zeiss 630 binoculars.
In his field of vision, the edge of a birch forest 1200 meters ahead showed typical signs of artificial camouflage.
Although the Germans used branches and camouflage nets, to the well-trained scouts, the few crushed grass marks and freshly turned soil gave everything away.
Three Pak 36 anti-tank gun positions. Two MG 34 general-purpose machine gun positions. One Sd.Kfz.251 half-track as a forward command post.
This was a standard company-level blocking position, positioned right at the choke point of the main road leading to Le Havre.
McTavish pulled out the 1:50000 military map.
He didn't even carry a radio.
That heavy and precious No. 18 infantry radio was left at the departure position.
For a forward reconnaissance soldier responsible for guiding fire strikes, this is equivalent to having his vocal cords cut off.
McTavish's face was full of confusion—without radio feedback for coordinate correction, were they supposed to rely on telepathy to guide shells several kilometers away?
But he still carried out Arthur's orders—the reason being to prevent the German radio direction finding unit (Peilkompanie) from getting in.
For detection, the reconnaissance platoon must maintain absolute electromagnetic silence.
He pulled out a red and blue pencil.
The pen tip touches the paper.
He drew a red cross at map coordinates X—19—45. Then he added a note next to it: Pak36
3.
At the same time, on the north bank of the Bétine River Bridge, inside the command vehicle.
Arthur Sterling closed his eyes.
On his retinal projection, the fog of war on the originally pitch-black RTS minimap suddenly receded.
A red enemy marker appeared out of thin air on the blue holographic grid.
This is called "line-of-sight sharing".
In this RTS logic, McTavish's physical marking behavior on the paper map was judged as "the reconnaissance unit established the enemy's coordinates", thus triggering the system's vision update.
Arthur opened his eyes and looked at Major General Fortune beside him.
"77th Artillery Regiment"
Arthur's voice was calm, without any questioning or negotiation: "Coordinates X-19-45. Three Pak 36 positions. High-explosive rounds. Instant fuses."
"The whole team is focused on shooting."
Major General Fortune was taken aback.
He looked at Arthur with a puzzled expression, then glanced at the radio receiver that wasn't transmitting any sound.
"Colonel, the forward reconnaissance troops haven't sent back any radio signals yet," the major general emphasized. "We can't confirm the coordinates. And without a test firing—"
"Execute the command."
Arthur offered no explanation.
20:16, artillery position in the rear.
The commander of the 77th Royal Field Artillery Regiment frowned as he looked at the piece of paper in his hand that only had coordinates written on it.
There was no advance warning report, no corrections, and not even a target description.
But Major General Fortune's order was clear and irritating, and the major general was clearly also furious: "Every number that Colonel Sterling gave was the truth."
"Attention, everyone!"
The commander had no choice but to put aside his doubts and raise the command flag.
"Parameters set! Coordinates X—19—45!"
"Loading!"
"put!"
Boom—Boom—
Flames erupted from the muzzle brakes of 24 QF 25-pound howitzers, and the gun barrels recoiled violently.
Twenty-four 87.6 mm high-explosive projectiles detached from the rifling and cut into the night sky with an initial velocity of 532 meters per second.
20:16, German blocking position.
Corporal Fritz Schmidt sat behind the gun shield of his Pak36 anti-tank gun, wiping the sight with an oilcloth.
He's bored.
The main force had gone east to pursue the British convoy that was trying to break out, and he was unhappy about being left here to feed mosquitoes.
"The British won't go this way," the loader muttered. "That's a dead end."
Schmidt was about to answer.
A strange sound came from the air. It wasn't the sound of an airplane engine. It was the shrieking sound of something tearing through the atmosphere at high speed, accompanied by a sharp rise in pitch caused by the Doppler effect.
As a veteran, Schmidt didn't need to think; his spinal reflexes made him instantly cover his head and hunch under the gun shield.
But he was too slow. Or rather, the shells were too fast.
Or rather, is the gun shield even useful?
Boom!
The first 25-pound shell hit the anti-tank gun two meters to its right. Although it didn't hit directly, this distance made no difference to the 25-pound gun.
The high temperature generated by the explosion instantly detonated the twenty 50mm fixed rounds that the Germans had piled up there.
This is a chain reaction.
The massive fireball instantly engulfed the entire gun emplacement. The shockwave blew Corporal Schmidt and his several-hundred-kilogram gun shield away.
Then came the second and third shots.
In contrast to Rommel's order for saturation firing, the British forces also did not conduct test firings, but instead engaged in saturation firing, albeit with greater precision.
Twenty-four large-caliber grenades covered the 50-meter-long and 24-meter-wide position within three seconds.
Trees were snapped in half. Soil was turned upside down. Shredded flesh and fragments were completely mixed together and scattered everywhere by the shockwave of the explosion.
The German troops didn't even have time to sound an alarm.
On the other side, McTavish was preparing to put away the map.
He just drew a circle on the paper.
His plan was to mark the area, then ride his motorcycle back two kilometers, and then send a messenger back to report.
however.
He had just put the red and blue pencils back into his shirt pocket and hadn't even had a chance to give the "retreat" order to the communications soldier.
The birch forest 1200 meters ahead disappeared.
Instead, a huge ball of fire rose into the air.
The roar of the explosion reached his ears three seconds later—it was the sound of 24 cannons firing simultaneously.
McTavish's mouth dropped open. The unlit cigarette he was holding fell to the dusty ground.
He looked at the German position that had been razed to the ground, then looked down at the map in his hand.
Then he glanced at the messenger who was equally stunned.
A strong, absurd sense of nihilism welled up inside me.
"Sir—" the private stammered, "Do we—do we need to report?"
McTavish silently picked up the cigarette, put it back in his mouth, and then gave a wry smile: "What's the point of reporting?"
"Were those artillerymen aiming with crystal balls?"
He patted the driver on the shoulder, his tone helpless and questioning his own worth: "Let's go. To the next point."
"Although I feel like we're just a group of tourists."
20:30, North bank of the Bettinne Bridge, British troops' departure position.
The roadblocks ahead have been cleared.
Inside the command vehicle, Arthur watched as the red dot on the RTS map disappeared, turning into a gray area that represented "safety," where there was nothing left.
"Command confirmed. Target cleared."
Arthur looked at Major General Fortune.
"Notify the entire army. Ignite the fire."
The instant the command is issued.
A low-frequency vibration, resonating in the chest, erupted from the gathering area on the north bank of the Bétine River Bridge.
Hundreds of internal combustion engines simultaneously completed their ignition sequence. The high-temperature exhaust gases ejected from the exhaust pipes rapidly condensed in the cold night air, forming a white mist. The chemical smell of burning high-octane gasoline and diesel instantly replaced the earthy odor.
This time, there were no probing forward scouts. There were no alternating screens in shifts.
This was a breach of the dam, a long-suppressed eruption.
The massive convoy began to surge toward the bridgehead.
In the forty-five seconds it took to cross that steel bridge, all the vehicles were forced into a single, high-density path to accommodate the narrow width of the bridge. Metal tracks and rubber tires rolled over the expansion joints of the bridge surface, producing a dense, rhythmic metallic clang.
But the moment they drove out of the bridgehead on the south bank of the bridge, a tactical change occurred.
The first tier, codenamed "Breacher Hammer".
As the 24 Panzer IV tanks and 6 StuG III assault guns rolled off the bridge, their hydraulic steering systems roared. Instead of continuing in single file along the road, they sped off towards the wasteland and farmland on either side.
The track plates crushed the guardrail at the edge of the roadbed. The 30 fully tracked armored vehicles completed a fan-shaped deployment while moving.
Within just two minutes, a wide, inverted V-shaped attack formation took shape on the highway.
The Panzer IV tanks were positioned on the outermost edge, while the StuG III assault guns guarded the middle.
These form the toughest outer shell of the convoy, encasing the fragile wheeled vehicles at their geometric center. That short-tube 75...
Although the KwK37L/24 tank gun has a low muzzle velocity, it is extremely effective at suppressing soft targets while on the move.
The second tier, codenamed "core"—that is the true core of the team.
Hundreds of wheeled vehicles of all kinds followed closely behind the tank's trail as they drove off the bridge.
There were captured Opel Lightning tanks, British Army-issue Bedford MWs, and requisitioned Renault buses. Under the armored cover of tanks, they were arranged in a dense four-column formation, with the distance between vehicles compressed to a maximum of 5 meters.
Each vehicle's suspension system was subjected to an excessive load; the truck bed was crammed with heavily armed soldiers, and even the mudguards were covered with infantrymen.
夹杂在这些卡车中间的，是第77，78和第79皇家野战炮兵团的共计72门25磅榴弹炮群。
These artillery pieces were exhibiting a highly unusual marching posture.
In order to save those crucial few minutes of "withdrawal time," the artillery crew, following Arthur's instructions, violated all safety regulations.
After the rapid firing ended, the gunners did not wait for the barrel to cool down, nor did they clean the propellant residue accumulated in the breech, nor did they even retract the cannon's circular firing base under the wheel axle.
They lifted the scorching hot gun carriage directly, and in this position, hooked the cannon onto the truck's tow hook.
This is an extreme form of "combat traction mode".
The artillery spades were still covered in fresh soil from the position. The recoil mechanism emitted a paint-baking smell from the high temperatures of continuous firing.
The breechblock was locked, but the firing mechanism was pre-loaded. The rear door of the ammunition vehicle was deliberately left open, exposing the fixed high-explosive and armor-piercing rounds within easy reach.
This configuration sacrifices stability during marches, but the advantages are also obvious:
If the convoy is attacked from the side or encounters a traffic jam, the trucks only need to come to an emergency stop.
The gunner jumps off the truck and, without needing to unhook the tow hook or even deploy the spade, can directly operate the cannon for point-blank direct fire using the truck's own weight as a stabilizer.
This is an artillery column that is ready to explode at any time and to perish together with the Germans.
The third echelon, codenamed "Goalkeeper," also consists of trucks and artillery, but these are anti-tank guns.
The 36 QF2-pounder guns of the 51st Hill Division's anti-tank regiment were hooked onto the tail hooks of tractor trucks and left the bridge as the rearguard.
All the gun barrels were pointed directly rearward. The breechblocks were also locked, and the ammunition box covers were open. If German tanks appeared behind them, these guns would not need to be towed or steered; the vehicles could simply stop abruptly to form an anti-tank fire network.
"Listen up, everyone."
Arthur's voice, transmitted over the radio to every command vehicle, was flat and devoid of any emotional fluctuation: "The front 3 kilometers is the blockade zone. Even though the artillery has cleared the first line of defense for us, there are still some who have slipped through."
Let me make this clear from the start.
"No matter what happens. No matter whose car engine is smashed. No matter whose neck is punched."
"Surfing is strictly prohibited."
"If the vehicle in front is destroyed, the vehicle behind should immediately ram it off the road. If someone falls out of the vehicle, stopping to rescue them is strictly prohibited."
Arthur knew very well that in the current situation, if any car stopped, it would cause a series of rear-end collisions and delays for the entire convoy, ultimately making them targets for the Germans.
His only goal was to get these unfortunate souls through the death corridor before Rommel could react.
"All troops—attack!"
As the command ended, the driver of the Panzer IV floored the accelerator pedal.
The Maybach HL120's engine roared. The drive wheels kicked up gravel. This hybrid of steel, rubber, and flesh plunged irreversibly into the unknown darkness to the west.
At the edge of the Arthur RTS map, red enemy signal points begin to flash.
120 seconds until contact.
20:45, France, D940 highway, 3 kilometers from the starting point.
Even after their main force was transferred away, the German 37th Anti-Tank Battalion that remained behind maintained a mechanical level of tactical discipline.
In addition to the three positions that McTavish had just marked and destroyed, a second ambush line lay hidden at the edge of the woods deeper into the road.
They did not panic.
When the ground vibrations exceeded the threshold, the German artillerymen lying in ambush in the oak grove on the left side of the road quickly removed the camouflage from their artillery.
This was a standard ambush deployment.
Twelve Pak36 37mm anti-tank guns were positioned in an L-shape behind bushes. These lightweight guns had extremely low profiles, making them very difficult to spot. The muzzles were pointed towards the side of the road, and their firing arcs overlapped.
The German commander stared at his stopwatch. He was waiting for the British vanguard tanks to enter their optimal kill radius of 500 meters.
Although this artillery piece was jokingly referred to as a "door knocker," the PzGr.39 armor-piercing high-explosive shells fired by the Pak36 were surprisingly effective against the Panzer IV's vertical side armor, which was only 20 millimeters thick.
"Fire!"
As soon as the order was given, twelve short bursts of muzzle blasts erupted instantly at the edge of the oak forest.
boom--!
The 37mm capped armor-piercing projectile was ejected from the barrel at an initial velocity of 762 meters per second.
The Panzer IV tank positioned on the far left of the wedge formation was the first to be hit.
A PzGr.39 shell accurately struck the rear of the cooling grille on the side of its hull.
At a distance of 500 meters, the hardened steel projectile easily tore through the Panzer IV's thin side armor.
No ricochets, no miracle.
The kinetic energy carried by the projectile is converted into heat energy the moment it penetrates the armor, but what is even more deadly is the RDX explosive inside the projectile.
Penetrate.
The time-delay fuse is activated after the projectile enters the vehicle.
boom!
A violent implosion occurred inside the tank's engine compartment.
The falling armor fragments and shrapnel from the exploding projectiles instantly severed the fuel line. The intense heat ignited the gasoline vapors. A red fireball erupted from the gaps in the tank's hood, subsequently detonating the ammunition rack on the right side of the vehicle.
The 20-ton steel behemoth trembled violently as it moved, and then the turret was blown away by the immense pressure of the explosion, turning the entire vehicle into a burning torch.
"Firing position spotted! 11 o'clock position to the left! 800 meters away!"
No need for forwards to report. No need for observers to search for that faint muzzle flash.
0.5 seconds after the first shell hit the tank, the red dot was already marked on Arthur's retina.
The RTS captured the ballistic trajectory and deduced the precise coordinates of the launch site from it. That represented the exposed Pak.
The red icon of the Type 36 anti-tank gun stands out starkly against the blue map.
Arthur sat in the command vehicle; he couldn't call in the artillery now, but he didn't need to.
Within a visual range of 800 meters, the best weapon for retaliation is the tank itself.
But the others couldn't see anything in the darkness. For tank gunners, visibility was already impaired while moving, let alone at night. The woods to their left remained completely dark; they had no idea which tree the next shell would emerge from.
Arthur didn't waste any words.
He abruptly stood up from his seat in the command vehicle, grabbed the MG34 general-purpose machine gun behind the shield, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.
Thump thump thump—!
A string of bright green tracer bullets tore through the night.
These green tracer rounds were originally used by the Germans as a marker to distinguish friend from foe at night—the British used red and orange more often.
This deadly whip of light was like a straight finger, pointing firmly at that seemingly ordinary shrub.
The lightning bolt struck the anti-tank gun's shield, sending up a series of dazzling sparks.
Arthur released the trigger, pressed the throat communicator, and said with a hint of malice in his voice, "Did you all see that son of a bitch?"
"Target: The left-side forest belt."
"High-explosive shells. Fire them!"
With the markings, everything becomes simple and brutal.
The turrets of the three Panzer IV tanks on the far left spun rapidly. Through their monocular sights, the gunners clearly saw the "dot of light" marked by their superiors with bullets.
No distance measurement is needed. No search is needed.
"High-explosive shell loading!"
"Fire!"
Then came the second and third shots.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The three 75mm KwK37L/24 tank guns roared almost simultaneously.
Due to its short barrel, this cannon's muzzle velocity was only 385 meters per second. Arthur could clearly see the three black volleys—
The high-explosive projectile traced a slightly curved trajectory in the air.
For tanks, this initial velocity is a disaster. But for anti-infantry and anti-fortification purposes, this arc is the Grim Reaper's scythe.
1.5 seconds later.
Three high-explosive shells loaded with Amato explosives precisely struck the Pak 36 anti-tank gun position that had just opened fire.
Boom!
A violent explosion erupted at the edge of the oak forest.
The first shell landed on the ammunition box on the left side of the gun, causing a secondary explosion. The second shell hit the gun's shield directly.
The high-explosive shell with a large charge detonates the moment it comes into contact with the shield.
The Pak36's lightweight 5mm thick shield was as fragile as glass in the face of the shockwave from a 75mm grenade. The metal shield was instantly torn into several twisted pieces of scrap metal, and along with the gunner and loader behind it, they were directly dismembered by the high temperature and overpressure blast.
After this salvo, only a burning rubber wheel remained of the anti-tank gun.
"Target cleared."
Arthur didn't even glance at the burning red dot.
"Keep going. Don't stop."
Arthur returned to his command position.
The convoy raced along the burning highway. The burning oak forest provided brief illumination, and the crushed wreckage of German artillery groansed under the tracks.
But this torrent of steel was not delayed even by a millisecond.
They smashed through the wall of fire, crushed the scorched earth, and plunged headlong into the deeper, colder darkness of Lingce.
Behind them, only a long corridor of death, paved with flames and scrap metal, remained, burning silently in the night.
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