Chapter 400146Chapter NaN

October 17, 1940

Central-Northern Poland, Białystok – Soviet-occupied territory

"R-Ricochet!"

"What the hell is that thing!"

The shell from the short-barreled Panzer IV failed to penetrate the T-34's sloped armor.

The German Army, which had been confidently advancing while indiscriminately destroying hundreds of Soviet light tanks, was now in a complete panic from the offensive that had begun on both of their flanks.

The T-34 Shock, which had panicked the German Army even during the original history's Operation Barbarossa under conditions of overwhelming superiority, was now being perfectly reenacted thanks to a high command that had underestimated the reports written in Polish blood and tears.

Worse, they were now being attacked on both flanks by 1,000 T-34s, and the German forces, stretched out in a long line from rapidly advancing to compete for military merit, were being mercilessly violated.

With words that were more like a scream than a report, the unfortunate Panzer IV commander met his end as the T-34's long-barreled gun opened fire.

-What is that tank! What the hell is going on!

-Th-There are too many! The enemy has countless monster tanks!

-W-We can't hold! Headquarters! Retreat! Permission to retreat!

The radios provided to each tank had rules of use to avoid confusion, but as the tank commanders, who had fallen into a state of panic in the face of an overwhelming enemy, began making disorganized reports, it only served to amplify the chaos.

Into the headquarters, which until just moments ago had been delighting Rundstedt with a series of victories and numerous kill reports, now flew only reports mixed with desperate death cries and despair.

"Wh-What in the world is…"

Rundstedt was at a loss for words.

So many urgent reports were flooding in that it was actually delaying his grasp of the situation at the front.

But despite that, all the reports pointed to a single fact.

"General, we must first pull back the units and reorganize. Our friendly forces have taken serious damage."

At Chief of Staff Paulus's grim words, Rundstedt couldn't bring himself to speak.

What the hell went wrong? Just a moment ago, they were in the middle of a winning streak, and now the war situation has reversed in an instant?

"Ah, I understand. First, halt the advance and relay the order to regroup at the midway point."

Rundstedt's voice was lifeless as he spoke.

Based on the kill reports received so far, the scale of the enemy units lost exceeded half of the total military force led by Rundstedt.

It was common sense that after taking such damage, the battle would be confirmed as an enemy defeat, which was why Rundstedt hadn't restrained his subordinates from competitively advancing without considering a potential enemy counterattack.

But they're launching a counterattack even after all that damage? An offensive so powerful it could shatter our invigorated armored unit in one blow?

What on earth has happened?

Only then did Rundstedt recall his own boastful declaration, 'That would only happen if I were to be defeated,' and the Polish report that claimed after they defeated one million, 2.5 million, then 3.

5 million appeared.

"R-Relay to the East Prussia defense units. Tell them to prepare for defense. T-To prepare… for the enemy counterattack."

Rundstedt commanded with a half-dazed face, cold sweat pouring down like rain.

---

"I-I surrender! Don't shoo— Gak!"

A German tanker who jumped out of the silenced Panzer IV shouted with his hands raised, but he was soon cut down by a bullet.

"What's he saying? Speak in Russian."

Of course, the Soviet Army couldn't understand him shouting "Don't shoot" in German.

Though they would have killed him even if they had.

-We don't need prisoners of war.

If you have time to deal with POWs, kill one more of those German bastards and dedicate the victory to the People's Federation. Anyone who shows unnecessary mercy will die by my hand.

Enrique Líster's statement, delivered over the radio, had a composed and calm tone of voice for its content.

In fact, that made it all the more chilling, as the numb voice continuously issued merciless orders to the Soviet Army.

Konstantin Rokossovsky and Enrique Líster, who were in charge of the offensive to crush the German Army, had more than enough reason to dedicate everything to the destruction of the Germans.

Konstantin Rokossovsky, who had been sacrificed in the Great Purge under suspicion simply for being of Polish origin, had been treated so harshly that he was left disabled, and so he desperately clung to the opportunity he had gained thanks to his former subordinate, Zhukov.

Rokossovsky struggled with all his might to destroy the German Army, using his every ability to prove his loyalty to the Soviet Union and clear his name.

Enrique Líster, who had fought with all his might for the Republican faction's victory in Spain, despaired at the sight of the Republicans finally collapsing thanks to Nazi Germany's intervention and turned his back on his homeland.

But the fact that Dietrich Schacht, who had earned military merit in the Condor Legion by defeating his unit on the side of the fascists, was now leading Germany and had emerged as a giant of anti-fascism, was nothing more or less than disgusting hypocrisy to him.

Enrique Líster was pouring the experience and tactics he had brutally built on the blood of his compatriots and subordinates in the Spanish Civil War into his revenge.

The German Army, struck on the flank by Konstantin Rokossovsky and Enrique Líster's armored units, was literally collapsing in a brutal fashion.

-E-Enemy tanks to the front! Seven of them! It's them!

-F-Four over here, too! Save me, uwaaah!

The constantly bursting German radio transmissions were filled with nothing but screams and shrieks.

The German armored unit, capable of coordination between tanks via radio and agile responses based on mission-type tactics, would normally have been able to exhibit some flexibility even against a flank attack.

However, after being struck on not just one but both flanks while stretched in a long line, and realizing it was an insurmountable situation where they were outmatched in both tank quality and quantity, the German communication system that facilitated easy coordination ironically accelerated the panic and collapse of their own forces.

The situation, with the two generals' armored units striking with a focus solely on annihilation and destruction, not even taking the panicked Germans as prisoners, was a disaster in itself.

Rundstedt's decision to order a gathering at the midway point was rational in its own way, but in this state of great confusion, it only compounded the damage.

The German forces suffered even greater losses as they were picked off one by one by the Soviet armored units while moving to the midway point. Ultimately, after receiving a full retreat order from headquarters, which had belatedly grasped the situation, the entire army began to flee towards East Prussia without looking back.

Thanks to Rundstedt immediately making a decision on the advice of the competent Chief of Staff Paulus, the German Army managed to avoid being encircled and annihilated, but it was only after they had already suffered the devastating losses of 150,000 out of the 500,000 who began the offensive, and 50% of the committed tanks.

However, Georgy Zhukov had no intention of being satisfied with that.

After inflicting a crushing defeat on the German Army, which had underestimated the Soviet Army and launched their offensive with a light heart, the Soviet forces rode their vigor and began to advance directly into East Prussia.

---

October 20, 1940

Northeastern Germany, East Prussia – Border area

"Uheheong, uheoheo-eong, this life is ruined! It's hopeless!"

At the tearful lament of Battalion Commander Major Clemens Fleck, his adjutant, Lieutenant Vinrich Behr, could only stare at him with a very peculiar facial expression.

A commander bursting into tears and despairing in the middle of a battle, could there be anything worse?

And yet, Behr couldn't bring himself to send a scornful glance at Clemens.

-Battalion HQ! This is 1st Company! 2nd Platoon has six casualties! The front line is in danger!

-Battalion HQ! This is 2nd Company, 1st Platoon, with ten casualties! Re-Requesting permission to retreat!

"Uheheong, that bastard Dietrich… From the 4th Company held in reserve, send the 1st Platoon to the 1st Company, and the 2nd and 3rd Platoons to the 2nd Company…"

"Yes, sir, Battalion Commander!"

And yet, he gives proper orders.

Moreover, when establishing the defense line, Clemens had moved about, personally directing the placement of the anti-tank guns and 88mm anti-aircraft guns, and from his adjutant's perspective, it was an exceptionally appropriate arrangement.

Although his giggling to himself while calling the 88mm anti-aircraft gun a 'Schacht Schacht Cannon' looked a bit foolish, the defense line, with its appropriately arranged net of fire, was somehow holding up against the enemy's counterattack.

Furthermore, Clemens had predicted that the enemy would attack with an armored unit composed solely of tanks, and that prediction had come true exactly.

The Soviet T-34s that charged with great vigor were exposed to the net of fire from the 88mm anti-aircraft guns and Pak 40 anti-tank guns without any infantry support, and they were turned into easy prey.

In the meantime, the sobbing Clemens picked up the telephone and connected to Division Headquarters.

"Reporting! This is 3rd Battalion Commander Major Clemens Fleck! All reserves have been exhausted, and we require reinforcements.

Yes, sir, yes, understood!"

On top of that, Lieutenant General Hans-Valentin Hube was an excellent defensive commander who lived up to their expectations. Supplies and support were arriving just when they were desperately needed, not too late.

When news came that the main force that went on the offensive had been brutally crushed and they had fled to the defense line in the clear state of a defeated army, he thought everything was over, but once they started fighting, they were holding out surprisingly well.

As the attacking force, which had returned to headquarters as remnants of a defeated army, was quickly reorganized and sequentially committed to the defense line, even the counterattacking Soviets began to accumulate losses.

Clemens, who had been carrying on the phone call quite calmly like a soldier while Behr was thinking, collapsed onto his desk as soon as the call ended.

"Adjutant."

"Yes, Battalion Commander!"

As expected, no matter how pathetic he looked on the outside, a veteran of many battles was a veteran of many battles.

To Behr, who was just about to see him in a new light, Clemens said.

"Make me some coffee. Two spoons of sugar."

"…"

A veteran of many battles, my ass.

---

October 25, 1940

Central-Northern Poland, Białystok – Soviet-German front line

The 10-day engagement came to a halt when the Soviet Army, having nearly broken through the German defense line, exhausted the supplies it had stockpiled before the Rasputitsa and lost its offensive capability.

The front entered a lull, having only produced massive losses of 250,000 for the German Army and 500,000 for the Soviet Army.

Both Germany and the Soviet Union had prepared a decisive offensive and attacked with confidence in victory, but the battle ultimately ended with both sides realizing the other was not an easy opponent.

An astronomical 750,000 casualties soaked the earth in blood, but the front line remained unchanged from before the battle.

General Enrique Líster was slowly walking through the Soviet garrison established on the front line.

In the trench positions built in the forest, shabbily dressed Soviet soldiers, wrapped in bandages or with their feet in foot wraps for lack of military boots, were stationed, and upon seeing him, they sprang to their feet and saluted.

Enrique Líster looked around at them with a numb face and continued on his way.

The Soviet Army, which had brutally crushed the German attacking force and slammed into the German front with great vigor, suffered massive damage against Germany's unexpectedly strong defense line.

The positions established with the German Army's powerful new anti-tank guns and the anti-aircraft guns that had given him nightmares since Spain indiscriminately blew up even the T-34s, which had seemed invincible when striking the enemy's flank in a surprise attack.

"Aaargh, aaaaaaargh!"

In the barracks set up as a so-called field hospital, soldiers screamed and thrashed as blood spurted from treatments that tore into their living flesh, and many ended up fainting while foaming at the mouth.

'Aargh! Uwaaah!'

The screams his subordinates had let out long ago in a poor hospital in Spain echoed in Líster's mind again. That auditory hallucination would not fade, no matter how much time passed.

The screams let out by the subordinates who followed him in Spain and the Soviet soldiers were not so different.

As Líster, who had shaken his head to clear it after being tormented by the auditory hallucination, approached the field hospital, a soldier lying on a makeshift bed—nothing more than a blanket draped over an empty military supplies box for lack of a proper cot—recognized him and saluted.

He only had one leg.

'General, will I be able to live…?'

The voice of a subordinate from Spain, who had grabbed his hand with what looked like a hopeless wound and asked in a trembling voice, came back as another auditory hallucination.

To him, the Soviet soldiers were not his cherished subordinates.

The Soviet Union was not his homeland.

'Let's fight for the freedom of our homeland! They shall not pass! (No Pasaran!)'

The slogan he himself had shouted in Spain while driving his beloved subordinates into a deathtrap echoed as a hallucination. Enrique Líster turned his gaze away from the one-legged soldier.

In this operation, he had burned with hatred and vengeance, launching a fierce offensive and achieving immense military gains.

The attacking German Army suffered devastating losses, and he, filled with exhilaration and frenzy, initiated a counterattack.

But they hadn't left their homeland poorly defended either, and the counterattacking Soviet Army had to suffer massive losses as they slammed into the solidly established defense line.

Enrique Líster, too, realized midway that ramming into the line like this would entail enormous sacrifices from his subordinates.

But he continued the offensive.

Because to him, the Soviet soldiers were not subordinates to be protected, but merely tools for his revenge.

He thought it wouldn't matter how many Soviet soldiers died, as long as the corpses of those German bastards were piled on top of them.

The reckless offensive continued, piling corpse upon corpse, even as the supplies stockpiled before the Rasputitsa dwindled, and it only stopped when Zhukov, unable to watch any longer, personally ordered a halt.

Only after freely pouring out his rage on the object of his hatred, with his fury reaching its peak, did his fever finally cool, allowing him to see the situation clearly.

The situation of the Soviet Army, as seen on site, was extremely poor.

The Soviet Union's massive heavy industry had allowed them to mobilize a formidable army by churning out immense military equipment, but it hadn't enabled that mobilized army to fight like human beings.

Even that heavy industry was extremely lopsided, forcing Líster to launch an armored offensive without motorized infantry to support the tanks or radios for each tank, just as in Spain, and he had to suffer massive losses.

The Soviet Army had hastily mobilized a massive number of troops, so many had not even been provided with military boots, medical supplies were less than half of what was required, and the mortality rate for wounded soldiers exceeded 50%.

It was common for even a soldier with a light laceration to die because they couldn't receive medicine before the wound became infected and killed them.

In the end, only after achieving some small measure of revenge did the Soviet Union finally become his reality.

With a devastated heart, Líster slowly walked the front line, then looked into a puddle of water collected in a crater left by shelling.

Reflected in the murky, muddy water, his face had changed into that of the Republican faction's high command he had so utterly despised in Spain, who had driven their subordinates to senseless deaths.

He couldn't hold it back and retched.