The Twilight of Empire: Starting from Dunkirk

Chapter 32 The Hound's Sense of Smell

The morning mist fragmented the world on both sides of the A River.

Major Heinrich von Stransky stood beside the command vehicle, which was still running. Tiny droplets of cold mist condensed on the collar of his expensive leather overcoat, but he remained oblivious.

His gaze was fixed on the newly decoded telegram in his hand.

That was a "list of shame" that would raise the blood pressure of any German armored soldier with any self-respect.

"Sir, the main force of the 1st Armored Division is assembling towards the broken bridge."

Lieutenant Weber, the adjutant, leaned closer. He glanced at Strunzsky's grim face, which was almost dripping with gloom, and cautiously asked, "Has General Guderian confirmed the enemy's exact size?"

"scale?"

Strunzkov flicked the telegram in his hand with his black-gloved fingers, the sound ringing out sharply in the quiet morning mist:

"Although those idiots in the 1st Armored Division still don't know who attacked them, or even how many infantry reinforcements the enemy had, it doesn't matter anymore. This list of material losses says it all."

He raised his head and read it out, word by word:

"The report indicates that, in addition to the destroyed camp facilities, four brand-new Panzer III Ausf. E tanks and six Sd.Kfz. 251 half-tracks of the 1st Panzer Regiment of the 1st Panzer Division are 'out of contact'."

"Out of contact?"

Lieutenant Weber paused, glancing instinctively at the dense fog around them, where visibility was less than thirty meters. "Does that mean they were blown up in the river during the chaos, or swept into the woods?"

"No, Weber. You're too naive."

Strunzsky smirked coldly:

"If it had been bombed, the quartermasters would have written 'total loss.' 'Out of contact' means the wreckage cannot be found, or... it's being moved."

"I guess it's that Englishman—that AS who's impersonating me."

Strunzsky gritted his teeth, his voice filled with a deep sense of offended anger. "He didn't blow up those tanks. He stole them. Just like he stole my name at the checkpoint before."

"My God..."

Lieutenant Weber gasped, staring incredulously at the empty road ahead, as if he were hallucinating. "You mean, they're driving our Panzer III tanks, using our half-tracks, and carrying French heavy tanks, charging towards Dunkirk?"

That explains everything.

Stransky crumpled the telegram into a ball and slammed it onto the armor plating:

"This was a meticulously planned robbery. He wasn't just trying to break out; he was trying to humiliate us, the entire 19th Army, and the glory of the Großdeutschland Regiment."

For elite officers like Stransky of the Großdeutschland Regiment, nothing could be more disgusting.

The enemy not only trampled on their defenses and treated them like dogs on a leash, but now they are also driving the latest equipment belonging to the German Wehrmacht, burning synthetic fuel that originally belonged to them, and swaggering through the heart of their defense zone.

"They are not running away."

Stransky drew his Luger P08 pistol from his waist and pulled the bolt.

Click.

The crisp metallic clang sounded particularly jarring in the deathly silence of the morning mist, giving the gun a soul.

"They're showing off to us. That Englishman is challenging us to a duel."

He turned around, looking at the Panzer IV tanks already in position behind him, and the grenadiers with cluster grenades hanging from their waists and eyes as hungry as wolves. A near-perverted fighting desire burned in his eyes:

"very good."

"Since they like our cars so much, let's teach them how to use our German-made machines."

……

Back in the command vehicle, Sstránsky made a decision that seemed extremely unusual according to conventional tactical doctrine.

"Webber, shut down all radio stations."

He ordered the communications soldier who was adjusting the frequency, "From now on, the entire company is on radio silence. Unplug the antennas. All instructions will be communicated via flags and lights."

Weber was puzzled: "Major, why? We need to maintain contact with the air force. There could be British ambush on the main road ahead at any time. Without Stuka support..."

"Because he's listening."

Strunzsky pointed to his head.

"Although I'm still not sure whether that 'AS' got a backdoor from God or grew some kind of damn super hearing..."

"But that's just how it is along the way. Every time we feel like we're about to catch up with them, they always manage to leave 20 minutes early."

"Especially now, he has just toured the front lines of the 19th Army."

"Under these circumstances, who can guarantee that he didn't just slip our Engelma machine and communication keys into his pants and take them with him?"

"So, shut your mouth. Let's assume our codebook is right here on his lap; that's our current principle of communication."

As a veteran forged in the Polish battlefield, Sstránsky possessed a beast-like intuition.

He suspected that the other side possessed a highly efficient means of intelligence gathering—perhaps intercepting German radio communications, or perhaps some kind of reconnaissance method he couldn't comprehend. In any case, he decided to proceed with caution.

"Since he has ears that can hear everything, let's keep our mouths shut."

Stransky said coldly:

"Soldiers of the Großdeutschland Regiment can fight without radios."

"I'm going to sneak up behind him like a ghost, until I shove the cannon barrel into his ass, and then greet him."

With a single command, this elite mechanized company, consisting of 12 Sd.Kfz. 251 half-tracks, 3 Panzer IV tanks, and several military motorcycles, instantly became a silent force.

They shut down the noisy radios and replaced commands with complex hand gestures. Engine noise was suppressed, and all the vehicles stealthily made their way north along the edge of the woodland beside the road, taking advantage of the morning mist and shadows.

……

Highway D916

1940年6月2日，07:10 AM。

Arthur's convoy was speeding north along Highway D916.

Having just made a fortune at that ill-fated German supply depot, the convoy was filled with a cheerful atmosphere. Inside the spacious Sd.Kfz.251 half-track, a Scottish bagpiper was even whistling a lighthearted tune, while the soldiers clutched their looted rye bread and smoked meat, as if this were just a relaxed armed outing.

Arthur sat in the damp, chilly command tower of the Verdun, a freshly brewed cup of hot coffee in his hand, looking quite content.

He snapped his fingers, and the RTS system interface on his retina instantly unfolded.

After a night's rest, albeit mentally, Arthur was now full of energy. The system operating in his mind was at its peak, operating at full power.

The terrain within a five-kilometer radius was perfectly replicated using high-precision 3D modeling; every tree, every crater, and even every puddle was clearly visible. The fog of war? That was only for ordinary people. Under the system's powerful scan, the surrounding environment was as transparent as freshly wiped glass.

Arthur glanced at the back of the map.

It's very clean there.

The once dense sea of ​​red dots representing Guderian's 1st Panzer Division had been completely left on the other side of the Ahn'Qiraj River. Clearly, the destroyed bridge and the harassment that night were enough to give the father of Blitzkrieg a headache for a whole day.

"Looks like we have no audience behind us."

Arthur whistled with satisfaction.

But he immediately turned his gaze to the direction the convoy was heading—due north.

The next second, his hand froze in mid-air, his eyebrows raised high, and a hint of unexpected surprise flashed in his eyes:

"Oh? That's interesting."

About 800 meters directly ahead on the map, in a treacherous S-shaped bend, a blinding red spot of light suddenly appeared.

This cluster of red dots is not a stationary civilian or neutral unit, but rather a hostile armed force marked with an extremely high threat level. The system even thoughtfully displays the enemy's unit identification code next to the cursor:

[Enemy Identification: Großdeutschland Infantry Regiment (GD) - Mechanized Advance Company]

[Commander Identification: Major Strelansky]

"This guy... actually got ahead of me?"

Arthur looked at the red dot and couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.

It has to be admitted that this opponent named Strunzsky seems to be quite capable. After realizing that he couldn't catch up with Arthur, this guy didn't just wander around like a headless fly, eating exhaust fumes. Instead, he anticipated his retreat route and forced a rapid march to get ahead.

"Is this what they call 'the obsession of the nobility'?"

Arthur zoomed in on the map as if he were observing a spider diligently weaving its web under a microscope.

"Tsk tsk tsk... I have to admit, this guy is really something."

"It seems that Prussia's military training over the past twenty years was not something they developed by drinking champagne in those Junker estates. This ability to read terrain, this intuition for firepower deployment... if it were an ordinary British commander, he would probably have suffered a major setback here."

From the system's God's-eye view, Strunzsky's supposedly flawless "ambush circle," though a blatant joke in Arthur's eyes, is nonetheless a textbook example of a death trap.

Look at this exquisite arrangement:

[Left Flanking High Ground] Three Panzer IV Ausf. C tanks were perfectly camouflaged in the shadows at the edge of the woods. Instead of choosing open ground, they used the reverse slope to occupy the high ground. The firing arc of their three short-barreled 75mm howitzers precisely covered the entrance and middle of the bend. Once Arthur's convoy slowed down to enter the bend, that would be when their top armor was at its weakest. —System marker: [Heavy Firepower Threat/Top Attack Lethality Zone]

[Flanking Rocky Areas] Two MG34 machine guns were cleverly positioned in the crevices between the rocks on either side of the road, their muzzles almost touching the ground. This constituted the classic "crossfire" formation. Any infantry that jumped from the vehicle to seek cover would be instantly cut in half by these two volleys of fire, like wheat being harvested. —System marker: [Suppressive Fire/Infantry No-Go Zone]

The most amazing thing is that inconspicuous drainage ditch by the roadside, which is even a bit waterlogged.

If it weren't for the system's red highlighting, who would have thought that under that pile of mud and dead leaves, there were more than thirty sappers, armed with cluster grenades and high-explosive charges, lying densely packed together?

They were like crocodiles lurking in the mud, sometimes less than five meters from the road. Once a tank was blocked, this group would pounce, stuffing explosives into the tank's tracks and undercarriage. —System marker: [Close-Range Demolition Team/Lethal Move]

"A perfect L-shaped ambush. Utilizing terrain to restrict movement, using blind spots to close the distance, combining infantry and tank operations, and integrating long-range and close-range tactics."

Arthur gently shook his head.

"Major Stransky, if this were a fair test, I would definitely give you an A+."

"What a pity..."

"I was a cheating examiner."

They lay so flat, so well disguised. To the naked eye, it appeared to be a quiet and peaceful forest.

But on Arthur's map, the position of every German soldier was lit up like a 100-watt light bulb.

Strunzsky thought he was a hunter lurking in the shadows, waiting for his prey to run headlong into his net.

Little did he know, his prey was holding a cup of coffee, 800 meters away, and was engrossed in counting the number of antennas on his command vehicle.

"This feeling..."

Arthur's lips curled into a wicked smile, a thrill born of absolute informational dominance.

"It's like playing StarCraft. I've turned on the full map cheat, while the other side is still seriously laying mines."

Since you want to play ambush, I'll play along.

However, the script needs to be changed.

"Ryder! Everyone stop the car!"

Arthur pressed the intercom, his voice radiating a relaxed confidence, completely devoid of any tension from the impending ambush:

"An old friend of ours has prepared a grand welcome party for us."

"What's wrong? Did we run into a German roadblock?" Major Ryder's voice came through. "Should we just charge through?"

"Rushing over there would be very impolite."

Arthur's smile deepened as he looked at the red commander marker on the map, who was lying in the grass, peering through binoculars in their direction.

"They spent half an hour lying in the mud to block us."

"Pass on my orders."

"Four B1 tanks were deployed in a single line, occupying the entire lane."

"Raise all your 75mm hull guns and preload them with high-explosive shells based on the coordinates I sent you."

Arthur paused, his tone turning cold and mocking:

"Since Major Strunzsky likes playing hide-and-seek so much, let's give him a good whack on the backside from 800 meters away."

"Teach these Germans a lesson: in modern warfare, being seen means death."

……

Ahead of the highway, there is an S-shaped bend hidden by dense forest.

Stransky's command vehicle was parked quietly behind a thicket of bushes.

This is a crucial section of Highway D916 and a natural hunting ground. The road narrows here, flanked by towering embankments and dense forests; once a convoy enters, it's like being trapped.

Instead of foolishly deploying tanks on the road, he ambushed three Panzer IV Ausf. C tanks on the high slope inside the bend.

While these tanks equipped with 75mm short-barreled howitzers have only average anti-armor capabilities, they are devastating in close-quarters ambush warfare from their elevated positions. Covered in thick camouflage and branches, only the dark muzzles of their guns peek out from the camouflage netting, like venomous snakes waiting to prey on their prey.

As for the grenadiers, or mechanized infantry, although they didn't yet have anti-tank weapons like the Panzerfaust, they carried weapons more suited to the 1940s—PzB 39 anti-tank rifles and bundles of grenades.

These grenadiers had long been lying in ambush in the roadside drainage ditches, their bodies covered with camouflage cloths full of dead leaves, as silent as the soil.

This was a textbook ambush.

Stransky held up his Zeiss binoculars and peered through the gaps in the leaves at the strange convoy approaching on the distant highway.

Strunzsky's eye twitched violently as he looked at the Panzer III tanks painted in red, white, and blue, adorned with comical markings, and even featuring a large Scottish tartan pattern.

"What an ugly paint job," he muttered, his tone filled with disgust.

The adjutant asked in a low voice, his excitement barely contained: "Major, they're really here. When are we opening fire? Should we shoot the lead vehicle? That B1 looks huge; if we disable it, the rest of the vehicles will be stuck in traffic."

"No."

Stransky coldly refused, his gaze calm:

"The B1's armor is too thick; our short-barreled 75mm guns have difficulty penetrating it from the front. Moreover, leading the charge will alert those behind and cause them to reverse and escape. What I want is not to repel them, but to annihilate them completely."

His finger moved slightly, pointing to the back of the convoy.

There were two Panzer III tanks there, which Arthur had just moved to the rearguard position.

"Strike at the tail."

"First, destroy those two stolen Panzer III tanks. They are a disgrace to the Imperial Army and must be cleansed with fire."

"Then, blow up the half-track vehicle in the middle to block the road."

"We'll trap those heavy B1 tanks on the road, and then we'll peel them apart layer by layer, like peeling an onion."

"When that imposter crawls out of the tank begging for mercy, remember to remind me to slap him first, then ask him if my name is any good."

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