Battle of the Third Reich

"Now we need more firepower. ⊙." Zeissler looked at the sketch of the battlefield drawn by Clausen and compared it with the military map he brought.

"But the people inside may not be able to insist that the support comes, you are our only hope now." Clausen said sincerely to Zeissler. He has nothing to do now. As he said, the armored grenadier company is the only hope for the surrounded paratroopers.

"Understood, we only have to do it ourselves. I need your people to cooperate with me." Zeissler put the map on the seat of the bucket truck.

"No problem, Lieutenant Zeissler, my people and I will obey your orders at any time." Clausen handed over his command without hesitation. As long as he could rescue his comrades, he did not care whether the other party's rank was the same as himself.

"Now the first thing we have to do is to contact the comrades inside. Are you carrying a radio station?" Zeissler unbuttoned the raincoat and pulled a cigarette case from the pocket on the chest of the uniform.

"We have two radios, one is missing with the signal soldiers, and the other one was damaged in the battle. We haven't been able to contact the troops inside." Clausen pushed away the smoke delivered by Zeissler. Box, indicating that he does not smoke.

"Nickel, you immediately call the company and ask them to send a Model 300." Zeissler took off the strap of the walkie-talkie and handed it to Nickel.

"We must now carefully formulate a combat plan, we only have one chance, so absolutely no mistakes are allowed." Zeissler turned his face and looked at Clausen.

"My people will provide you with all the help you need. As long as we can do it, we will do our best to complete it." Clausen responded affirmatively.

"Very good, Lieutenant Clausen. Now let's talk about what we have mastered." Zeissler lit the cigarette and pointed to the mark on the sketch.

"Frank, Nicholas, Taylor, you three follow me." Sergeant Hoffman stood by the ditch and whispered to the three paratroopers crouching at the bottom of the ditch.

"Observe, sergeant." The three paratroopers whispered back, tumbling out of the ditch quickly.

"Now there is an important mission in the company, we are going to do a latent raid. The mission is very dangerous, if you feel unsure. You can ask to quit, because once we start, then we must complete the mission." Hoffman held his chest. The front submachine gun said seriously to the three paratroopers.

"No problem. Sergeant. Stand by at any time, Sergeant. Order it, Sergeant." Although the paratroopers were heavily hit, the morale was still strong, and they were eager to fight the enemy. Blood for blood and teeth for teeth.

"Very good, now check their respective equipment, only carry weapons and ammunition, other equipment is left on the position." Huffman took the lead to throw his food bag and gas mask barrel and marching bag next to the trench, and then a canvas The bag was placed in front of the paratroopers.

"Each person carries two grenades." Hoffman pulled out 1911 from the underarm holster and pulled out the magazine to check the amount of ammunition.

"Take two more "flower peduncles" and tools, and you all know how to use them." Huffman fastened the jaw of the helmet and wiped the rain from his face.

"Are you ready? Good, let's go." The four paratroopers bent over. Under the cover of the night and the rain curtain, along the ridge on the side of the road, quickly ran towards the distant village.

"They are the best soldiers under my command. They have participated in battles between Norway and Belgium. They are very experienced and there is no problem." Clausen stood beside the barrel truck and watched the paratroopers away, waiting to see those. After turning around, he turned to Zeissler.

"I believe in the capabilities of these soldiers, lieutenant. Then we will take your place and act according to the original plan. I look forward to seeing you again after the battle, lieutenant." Zeissler boots collided. Raised his hand and performed a military salute.

"Me too, Lieutenant, and good luck." Clausen solemnly returned the gift.

"See you later." Zeissler turned and walked into the rain curtain without a few steps out. He stopped suddenly.

"Don't forget, take action ten minutes later." Zeissler turned and raised his wrist and pointed at the watch.

"Ten minutes." Clausen nodded to understand.

"Attention to the second and third rows, you are all clear about the plan, lined up as an assault formation and advanced 300 meters, the paratroopers will instruct us to target. My request is to use all your weapons to shoot at the target, I'll call out everything. Heavy firepower, follow the company together." Zeissler stood in his command car and gave orders to the radio loudly.

"I have heard the commander of the company command, all action, quickly. Start formation!" Sergeant Frank roared on the radio.

"Are you in contact with the headquarters?" Zeissler asked the corps while holding the outer edge of the carriage.

"The regiment has reported that Sanlian is almost four kilometers west of us. They are trying to get closer to us. The problem is that they can't find a suitable way. They may have to go around."

"These **** British, **** British highway." Zeissler shook his head helplessly. "It's too late to wait for them, we have to do it ourselves."

"In addition, I just contacted the paratroopers inside. They said they were ready to cooperate with our actions. They had repelled the other three large-scale attacks. The loss was not great, but the ammunition was not much. They were thinking Way to find ammunition from the enemy's body. It can be confirmed that the other party is the Boulder Brigade, all Polish." The signal soldier shrugged his shoulders at the company commander.

"Very well, we were finally able to avenge Captain Kaitloff, and finally encountered this group of **** again. These cowards actually shot at the wounded as they did when they were in Poland." Zeissler took his headphones and hung up Neck microphone.

"Everyone has listened well. Before receiving my order, it is forbidden to accept the surrender of the other party. The enemy is the Polish army who sells their lives for their British masters. These people stubbornly choose to continue to be enemies with the Germans. We must let them Knowing the cost of such stupid behavior, they are unwilling to admit failure, then we will wipe them out physically."

Fourteen semi-tracked transport vehicles drove down the road and expanded into two lines. The front row was two rows of troop carriers. The rear row was heavy firepower and the company row. The motorcycles attached to the company continued to stay on the road. Flanking alert and cover.

Soon the field echoed the roar of the Maybach engine, which was particularly dull in the rain.

"Attention, German tank!" the Polish soldier exclaimed. They also heard the clicking sound of the track shoe crashing between the engine sounds.

"The anti-tank gun is ready, pay attention to the distance measurement. The flares, hit two flares." The platoon of the anti-tank gun platoon commanded loudly. He stood in front of the artillery mirror and carefully scanned the field in front of him. Want to find the trail of the enemy from behind the dark rain curtain.

"We only have one flare, sir." The squad leader of the mortar squad ran to the window and panicked to the superior in the room.

"Give me the **** shell now, we must see the enemy's position clearly." The platoon leader pointed at the squad leader's nose angrily. With a muffled sound, a flare was hit over the German position. The pale white light illuminates the German position below through a dense rain screen.

"It's not a tank, it's an armored car, four, five, six, seven... at least two platoons, and there are more behind." The platoon leader's face in the anti-tank platoon suddenly changed.

"Measure the distance, aim at the target in the middle, and fire immediately without waiting for my order." The platoon leader let go of the artillery mirror and walked to the window to look at the bright German position in the distance.

"These **** English guys." The Polish lieutenant took off his four-cornered military cap. This is the only commemoration of his service in the Polish army. At that time, there was also a set of Polish army uniforms. As a result, when he landed at Portsmouth, he was lost with the checked baggage, and only the military cap in the carrying case was left.

Now the second lieutenant hates the British more than ever, and he also knows that he will never have a chance to avenge those bastards.

The only heavy weapons returned by the British Army to the Solskiy Battalion are these two anti-tank guns, but unlike the Germans' judgment, these two are not British two-pound guns, but French 1937 47mm anti-tank Cannon, that is, the French Pito cannon.

This is an anti-tank weapon with decent performance, so-so precision, and powerful enough to deal with German tanks under number three. The problem is that the French Army's thinking has always been different from ordinary people. They have only developed armor-piercing shells for this artillery. Other semi-armor-piercing shells and grenades are not available, so this artillery has no anti-armor. Unable to perform other tasks.

In the eyes of the British, this kind of thing is a waste. It was used to train the gunmen of the National Self-Defense Forces. After two months of tossing, the rifling had worn away a layer, so it was so generously returned to the Polish.

Although the Solsky Camp received the artillery, it lost the source of the ammunition, and the British certainly would not collect this French-made ammunition specifically for them. The original inventory was taken to train the group of National Self-Defense Forces, which had been used up. In the end, each artillery had only a poor eight rounds of ammunition. This was still asked by Solsky to ask grandpa to find grandma from the corner of the munitions warehouse. of.

Now these two guns have each killed five shells. This kind of gun was not suitable for attacking position targets, but in order to suppress the German machine gun fire and mortars, I had to catch the ducks and put the valuable shells in vain. This kind of boring shooting.

The artillery of the Solskiy Battalion was under his command. Who would have thought that an infantry battalion had only distributed four mortars, and they were all 60-millimeter French-made Brande. The performance of the French cargo is not bad, and the range has reached more than one kilometer. The problem is also that the source of the ammunition has been cut off. In the previous battle, all the killing bombs have been completed, and now only some smoke bombs and flares are left. Oh, the flare has just ran out.

What angered the Polish artillery platoon leader was that the British did not agree to replace these equipment with British weapons. The reason given was that the Polish were already familiar with the operation of these equipment, and the replacement of British products required retraining, which would reduce the combat effectiveness of the troops. They don’t want to think about where a troop without ammunition has combat power, but perhaps this is what the British want to see.

"It's just some armored vehicles, our guns can clean them up." The gunners shouted in the rain loudly, aiming their hands carefully to fine-tune the dial, and the muzzle slowly pointed to the German armored vehicle under the flares.

"Seven hundred and thirty meters!" The range finder finally corrected the distance before the flares went out. In this faint light, he had done all his efforts.

"Open fire!" An anti-tank gun fired first, dragging the brightly traced armor-piercing projectile across the field, and then smashed into the damp soil, and the mud splashed into the surroundings with broken grass and leaves, except for vehicles in German armored vehicles. A layer of crushed soil sludge was pasted on the body without causing any damage.

"It's three meters off, this **** rain." The gunner cursed loudly the bad weather, and the gunner pulled out the ammunition from the wooden box on the side to start the next round of loading.

The anti-tank bombardment in Poland was like pressing a switch. The machine guns and rifles on the paratrooper positions suddenly started shooting at the buildings occupied by the Poles. The Germans did not care about the consumption of ammunition. The green tracer bombs were like raindrops. The Poles came face to face.

Immediately, all German armored vehicles also started to fire at the Polish position with the mg34 machine gun in front of the front. The paratroopers pointed the target position for them. The machine gunners began to use long-point and continuous shots to suppress the shots.

Two anti-tank guns became the primary targets, one of them had to fire in the future, and was surrounded by dense bullet rain. The gunner and the aiming hand screamed and shrunk behind the shield. They dared not move and lay on their side. Two gunners and ammunition soldiers, one chest was torn, one was beaten all over his face, dense raindrops poured on the corpse of flesh and blood, blood mixed with rainwater flowing down the gully on the ground toward the street.

"Open the fire, open the fire! Kill the German armored car!" After the artillery platoon hides in the bunker inside the house, he gave orders to the artillery position beside the house.

"God, who will help me, medics!" The only one who answered him was a shouting cry.

Suddenly, without knowing what happened, the German shooting stopped abruptly, and the surroundings suddenly became quiet. Except for the still dense rain, only the sharp screams of injured Polish soldiers remained.

"Fire! Fire immediately!" The platoon leader poked his head out of the bunker that was covered with desks and furniture, and he continued to shout out of the window. Just then, there was a sudden blast of gunfire outside the window, and the platoon leader quickly retracted the bunker.

The next second, the door behind him was kicked from the outside by a foot, and then a black thing was thrown into the house. The Polish lieutenant looked at the murmured thing suspiciously, and when he responded, it was too late.

With a deafening roar, the artillery lined up with corpses full of holes fell on the floor, and a broken four-cornered military cap fell beside him, blood slowly flowing, soaking the tawny brim. (To be continued.)

ps: There is something wrong at home, the update time in recent days will be irregular, and the word count cannot be guaranteed, but I will try my best to update, I hope everyone can understand.