SWDnovel Chapter 57 The Shattered City and the Concrete Meat Grinder
Chapter 57 The Shattered City and the Concrete Meat Grinder
Chapter 57 The Shattered City and the Concrete Meat Grinder
June 3, 1940, 07:30, the ruins of the former town hall square on the Bergenne defense line.
Colonel Pierre's sacrifice bought Berger about twenty minutes of breathing room.
For those twenty minutes, the German heavy artillery ceased its roar.
It wasn't out of mercy, but because they needed to wait for the gun barrels to cool down, to recalibrate the gun mounts that had been warped by the massive recoil, and to wait for the forward observation posts to confirm whether that damned city had been completely wiped out.
When the first rays of sunlight finally pierced through the smoke of battle and illuminated the city, Major Arthur Sterling realized that the Berger he knew was no more.
Standing on the highest point remaining in the ruins of the city hall—that is, the half-collapsed clock tower—Arthur raised his binoculars.
What greeted the eye was no longer a medieval brick and stone complex, but a scene resembling Lego bricks crushed by a giant in his rage. The streets were blocked by tons of rubble, and the air was thick with suffocating dust—a sight that had instantly ground hundreds of years of history into powder, mixed with the lingering smell of sulfur and the stench of burning corpses.
The most devastating change occurred on the east side.
That ancient city wall, which once ravaged the 10th Armored Division and left it battered and bruised, that once formidable defensive line bearing the remains of Monk, has now become a massive breach over three hundred meters wide. Shattered stones have almost completely filled the moat, creating a perfect, corpse-strewn passage for attack.
On the flank of that gap, however, lay an even more despairing sight—Bergdon Station.
The 210mm heavy shells not only collapsed the station's dome, but also precisely hit the adjacent freight warehouse.
All that remained was a deep pit still emitting black smoke.
Several train cars, overturned by the shockwave, lay sideways beside the roadbed like dead fish, while the rails twisted into pretzel-like strands like mushy noodles. Beneath the rubble, muffled explosions could still be heard from time to time—the desperate bursts of several boxes of abandoned ammunition in the intense heat.
Arthur put down the binoculars and felt a chill run down his spine.
Thank goodness.
If he hadn't, the moment he recaptured the station yesterday, forced the exhausted French logistics soldiers to haul those thousands of precious 25mm and 47mm tungsten-core armor-piercing rounds back to the inner city by truck overnight, like moving gold, and distributing them to the underground bunkers of every anti-tank team—
So now, the 12th Division has truly become a tiger with its teeth pulled out.
"The teeth were saved, but the shield was shattered."
Arthur muttered to himself, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the silver tip of his cane.
Losing the city walls meant losing the range advantage and the fortified cover. Those expensive tungsten-core armor-piercing rounds could now only be fired at extremely close range, in hand-to-hand combat with German tanks—perhaps only 100 meters, or even 50 meters—when they were face-to-face with the enemy.
When the tanks of the 13th Panzer Division stormed in, the battle would no longer be an elegant long-range artillery duel.
Instead, it was a close-quarters "can-opening" competition in the concrete ruins, with anti-tank guns, Molotov cocktails, and cluster grenades in hand.
"My God—"
Major General Jeanson, standing beside Arthur, let out a groan. The old general gripped his smoke-blackened command sword tightly in his hand, his eyes filled with despair.
Without the protection of the city walls, they were like oysters stripped of their shells, their soft flesh directly exposed to predators.
[Tactical Situation Update]
[Outer defense line integrity: 15% (collapsed)]
[Enemy Movements: Full-Scale Assault (Alin)]
[Recommendation: Immediately switch to Urban Warfare Protocol]
A chilling warning popped up in the RTS interface. But even without the system notification, Arthur's eyes had already witnessed the terrifying scene.
At the massive gap on the east side, at the edge of the horizon, a gray tide was surging.
Those were countless German infantrymen in field gray uniforms. No longer lined up in neat skirmish lines like the SS Leibstandarte SS, they surged like a flood, densely packed behind tanks and half-tracks, rushing madly toward the breach.
There were no shouts, no bugle calls. Only the dull thud of countless pairs of military boots pounding the earth, and the screeching sound of tracks grinding over gravel.
That was the sound of a silent, efficient, industrialized killing machine starting up.
"They're coming in."
Arthur lowered the binoculars, his voice eerily calm.
He felt no fear; the cold void in his mind created by Pierre's death was now being filled with a purer tactical calculation.
"Pass on my orders."
Arthur whirled around, his bloodshot and ferocious eyes sweeping over the dusty, terrified French officers behind him. His roar echoed through the ruins: "Abandon all outer positions! Everyone, retreat immediately to the second line of defense—which is now the ruins of the inner city!"
""
He pointed his silver-tipped cane sharply at the labyrinthine ruins at his feet: "Tell every soldier, whether he's British or French, to throw away those damned field regulations! Forget all that nonsense about lines, trenches, and gentlemanly conduct! This isn't positional warfare! This is urban warfare!"
"Every house, every wall, every basement window, even every manhole cover is our fortress!"
"We want to turn this city into a concrete meat grinder, so that for every step the Germans take forward, they have to pay with a liter of blood!"
Arthur's eyes gleamed with a wolf-like ferocity: "They want to come in? Fine, let them in. Then, we'll trap them."
The moment this order, filled with murderous intent and madness, landed, the "war machine" behind Arthur instantly sprang into action.
The core members of the "Sterling Battle Group" did not hesitate at all, and did not even offer an extra salute.
"Higgins!"
Arthur looked at the artillery captain: "Low down all your Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft guns! I want them to become giant shotguns in the streets! Load those high-explosive tracer rounds into the barrels, and if you see any German infantry daring to show their heads at the end of the street, tear them to shreds! I want their corpses so badly they can't be put back together!"
"clear!"
Captain Higgins grabbed the phone immediately.
The old-fashioned officer who was holding the "Artillery Manual" and complaining incessantly about "using expensive anti-aircraft guns to shoot infantry is a waste of resources" just two days ago has completely disappeared.
Instead, there was a madman with dilated pupils, trembling with excitement due to excessive dopamine secretion.
Just yesterday, when he used 40mm armor-piercing high-explosive shells to blast rows of charging SS soldiers into flying bits of flesh, he experienced severe physical discomfort and vomited uncontrollably while lying on the gun shield, even vomiting yellow bile.
But now?
That feeling of disgust as a "civilized person" has been completely burned away by the flames of war.
Instead, he developed a chilling, immoral addiction. Now that the gates of hell had been opened, he found himself becoming madly infatuated with the feeling—the thrill of wiping out Germans like squashing tomatoes with a single pull of the trigger.
He yelled into the receiver, his voice filled with madness, like a ghoul who had just tasted blood: "Men! Lower the gun barrels! Zero them!"
"Set all the fuses to instantaneous!" We're going duck hunting! I want to see those red fireworks one more time!
Leave not a single one alive!
"Jeanne!"
Arthur turned to the female officer, her face still smeared with cigarette ash, her expression resolute. His tone became exceptionally solemn: "Go and gather the Guardsmen who came with us from the monastery! They are the most battle-hardened in this force..."
The toughest veteran!
"You are my general reserve force, my last line of defense! Wherever the lines are about to collapse, you lead your men to push them! At the same time, keep an eye on those terrified recruits—anyone who dares to retreat a single step at this moment, whether British or French, will be shot on the spot! Even colonels are no exception!"
"Yes, sir."
Lieutenant Jeanne pulled the bolt of Thompson's submachine gun, and a layer of cold frost appeared on her originally handsome face.
She didn't need to say anything more, because the dozen or so Coldstream Guard soldiers standing behind her, who had survived the bloody battle at the monastery, had already answered everything with silence and killing intent.
"McTavish!"
"Take Miller and his Royal Engineers platoon to lay mines! Use every anti-tank mine, even the rest of the explosives! I want every doorknob, every toilet seat, stuffed with booby traps! If the Germans want to go to the toilet, I'll send them flying in a rocket!"
"Leave it to me, sir." Sergeant McTavish grinned cruelly, patting Miller, who was also looking resolute, on the shoulder. "Let's go, kid. We're going to prepare a fiery Scottish feast for the Germans."
Finally, Arthur's gaze fell on his temporary adjutant.
"Ned!"
At that moment, Major Ned was wiping the dust off his glasses. Upon hearing roll call, he quickly put his glasses back on.
"All tank crews and half-tracks are under your command! Go find Captain Durand immediately!"
Arthur pointed to the massive vehicles rumbling amidst the ruins in the distance: "Tell him that in these narrow streets, his B1 heavy tanks are invincible land battleships! The pitiful firepower of the German Panzer III and IV tanks can't even scratch his armor from the front!"
Arthur made a sharp cutting gesture, a footnote to "infantry-tank combined arms" from a tactics textbook: "But—we must never let those agile German rats get behind him!"
"Hide your men and half-tracks in the alleys and hold the flanks of the B1 tanks! Let Durand draw fire from the front and crush them, while you take care of sniping from the sides! Shoot their tracks! Shoot their engines!"
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"I want to make the Germans understand that on this street, a head-on confrontation will only lead to death, while trying to outflank them—that's a shortcut to meeting God!"
"Don't worry, I'll show them what it means to kick a hornet's nest."
These individuals were like extensions of Arthur's limbs, scattering in an instant and injecting their frenzied will into the chaotic army.
However, an awkward pause occurred for a moment.
The staff officers of the French 12th Motorized Infantry Division remained frozen in place. They looked at each other, their faces filled with shock and bewilderment.
Arthur's tactic of "abandoning the defenses and turning the city into a slaughterhouse" completely overturned the orthodox defensive theories they learned at St. Cyr Military Academy.
They instinctively turned their gaze to their only support—Major General Jensen.
Within this rigidly hierarchical French military system, they awaited the old general's verdict.
Major General Mori slowly raised his head from the map table.
In that moment, the old general seemed to see through the essence of the war—his old era, one that valued battle lines and honor, had died in the heavy artillery bombardment. And the young, ruthless, and unscrupulous British major before him was the commander of this cruel new era.
He slowly walked to Arthur's side, extended his hand covered in age spots and gunpowder ash, and patted Arthur's shoulder heavily.
That hand was heavy, like a kind of entrustment.
Why are you all staring at me?
Major General Sen turned his head, his previously somewhat cloudy eyes suddenly flashing with a tiger-like majesty. He roared at the still-stunned French staff officers, "Didn't you hear Major Sterling's order?"
"From this moment forward, in this city, his word is my word. We will stand here like nails, obeying the command of this British major until our last drop of blood is shed."
The old general turned around, gave Arthur a deep look, and his tone became low and solemn: "This city is yours, son. Take these Germans to hell."
With the division commander's endorsement, the French military staff realized the truth of their actions.
"Yes, General! Yes, Major!"
"Execute orders! All personnel, transition to urban warfare!"
The next second, the previously frozen French command system began to operate frantically. At this moment, the entire city of Berg revealed its bloodstained fangs.
08:00 AM.
The battle broke out in full force at 8:00 AM.
If the previous battles were a grand symphony, then the current street fighting is the noisiest and bloodiest heavy metal rock.
[Enemy Vanguard Contact: Enemy Vanguard Contact]
The alarm from the RTS system interrupted Arthur's thoughts.
At the end of the Earth's bow line, a gray tide is surging.
There were countless German infantrymen in field gray uniforms, densely packed behind tanks and half-tracks, without shouts or bugle calls. The only sounds were the dull thud of countless boots pounding the ground and the screeching of tracks grinding over gravel.
The 10th Armored Division's Jäger units entered the city.
"Fire!"
At a command, dozens of Bren guns and Hotchkiss heavy machine guns hidden in the ruins simultaneously unleashed their fire.
That was hellish crossfire.
The two German motorcycles at the front were instantly reduced to burning scrap metal, and the riders on them were torn to shreds before they could even scream.
But the Germans reacted extremely quickly.
boom!
A gray Panzer IV Ausf. E turned the corner, and its short-barreled 75mm howitzer fired a high-explosive shell at a two-story building that was spraying fire.
The entire wall collapsed instantly, burying the French machine gun squad along with their weapons in Kechener.
Immediately afterwards, the German infantrymen wearing steel helmets spread out with remarkable skill, like gray rats, and scurried into every crevice of the ruins.
The gunfire was no longer continuous, but became short, intense, and echoing. In the narrow alleys, submachine guns and grenades became the main weapons.
There was no distinction between front and back; you could break through a wall and find the enemy there.
You need to be alert to six directions simultaneously: front, back, left, right, up, and down.
This is urban warfare.
I'll release one chapter now, and another one before midnight.
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