Oberstleutnant Erich von Zehntner smoked a cigarette, leaning against his command vehicle while the battle raged just beyond its reach.
Gunfire cracked in the distance, mingling with the thunder of flak and artillery bursts.
Wire-guided anti-tank missiles, loosed from the tops of armored vehicles, tore French armor apart before it ever had a chance to return fire.
Light and medium tanks darted forward with practiced precision, weaving through ranks of infantry fighting vehicles and wheeled carriers that poured men into battle.
Through his binoculars, cigarette clamped between his teeth, Erich watched the fight unfold.
The Germans moved like wolves, coordinated, relentless.
The French marched in lockstep.
Heavy, ponderous, like the Marian legions that once subdued Gaul.
Perhaps in 1914 such columns, bolstered by Allied industry, would have punched through trenches.
But not now.
Not against his battalion tactical group.
