Chapter 379: The M21's Momentum
As the sun set on the northern outskirts of Cambrai, the air buzzed with the chorus of frogs and cicadas. The soldiers of the German 1st Tank Division were working tirelessly under the fading light, digging tank trenches. These were deep pits similar to trenches but with sloped entrances, allowing the tanks to "hide" and avoid enemy artillery fire.
Usually, the Germans didn't have to worry much about French artillery, as their own 105mm howitzers consistently outmatched the French forces. Why do those foolish French cling so desperately to their 75mm guns? they thought.
These matters weren't of concern to Major General Nikolaus. Sitting on a waist-high boulder, he scanned through his notebook, lost in thought. He was quite pleased with the day's outcome—losing only 13 Upper Silesia tanks to destroy an entire regiment of heavy Saint-Chamond tanks, likely more than a hundred in total.
Yet, one thing continued to trouble Nikolaus: How did his forces end up blocked by those small tanks? He stared at his rough sketch of the French tanks. Why on earth would those tanks have wheels? He couldn't fathom their purpose. Was it some strange invention by Charles?
This mystery was part of why Nikolaus hadn't ordered a full assault on the French defensive line. Those peculiar wheels left him feeling cautious. Unbeknownst to him, however, he had missed a golden opportunity—a chance to completely decimate the First Special Artillery Division. The consequences would be serious, for the surviving French light tanks would soon bring him irreparable losses.
As darkness gradually swallowed the field, Nikolaus closed his notebook and stowed it in his pack, wondering how he'd deal with the French defenses tomorrow.
"Elvin," Nikolaus called, looking up.
A young tank officer jogged over and stood at attention. "General."
"Tomorrow," Nikolaus ordered, "your tank battalion will take the lead. I want you to charge the enemy line at full speed. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Elvin answered without hesitation, taking the assignment eagerly. Nikolaus intended it as a test. If the battalion succeeded, the main force would follow to overwhelm the French. If it failed, the main force would still have time and space to withdraw.
But Nikolaus wouldn't get his "test" the following day. While he contemplated strategies for luring the French out of town, a sudden whistling sound tore through the night air.
"Artillery attack!" a sentry shouted as soldiers instantly hit the ground.
Nikolaus, however, remained still on his rock. It wasn't that he was fearless; it was just that he knew he wasn't in the line of fire. Before becoming a tank division commander, Nikolaus had been an artillery officer, and his experience on the front lines allowed him to estimate where the shells would land by sound alone—they were at least 400 meters away.
Indeed, the shells exploded harmlessly 500 meters away.
Another round landed shortly after, still wide of the mark.
Nikolaus was puzzled. Are the French blindly shelling without seeing their target?
After ten minutes, the shelling continued sporadically, each shell landing without clear precision. A staff officer reported to Nikolaus, "General, our artillery can't suppress their fire. The enemy's moving after each shot."
The French were employing hit-and-run artillery tactics, making it impossible to predict their next location, much less counter with effective return fire. However, Nikolaus was confused—such an approach made their artillery wildly inaccurate. Why would they waste their ammunition this way?
He listened closely and suddenly understood: underneath the artillery barrage, a faint engine rumble echoed in the background.
"Enemy assault!" Nikolaus shouted. "Deploy the tanks!"
He quickly realized the French were using the sound of artillery to mask the approach of their tanks. If they're bringing in tanks, we'll answer with our own!
Yet, Nikolaus made a critical error in his command.
The Upper Silesia tanks, while equipped with turrets, had far less night vision capability than even the French Saint-Chamond M21 tanks. Once the German crews were inside, they were effectively blind.
This was quickly evident. The tanks managed to roll out of their pits but could do nothing from there, staring uselessly into the darkness through their narrow slits.
Ironically, they would have been better off switching tactics, dismounting to form an infantry line with rifles and grenades to repel the approaching French.
In battle, a single decision can often sway the outcome. Nikolaus had a chance to make the right choice, but by the time he realized his mistake, it was too late to change course. He ordered his forces to form a defensive line alongside the tanks, albeit with little hope.
To make matters worse, the German Upper Silesia tanks were large and stood out against the skyline, like giant markers in the dark. The French soon locked onto their position, making them easy targets.
Mortar shells were the first to rain down, each exploding with a piercing whistle around the German tanks. Some shells detonated above the troops, caught in the tree branches overhead, and filled the air with screams.
A barrage of rifle fire followed as bursts of flame from exploding shells illuminated the German soldiers, giving the French infantrymen clear targets.
The Saint-Chamond M21 tanks moved steadily forward, with machine gunners poking out of hatches to take aim. As soon as they saw shadows, they let loose a hail of bullets.
The Saint-Chamond M21 tanks with 37mm cannons advanced directly toward the German tanks, growing closer and closer.
The German tank turrets fired sporadically, but their shots were wildly off the mark, their bullets often spiraling into the sky with no idea they were missing completely.
At nearly point-blank range, the French Saint-Chamond M21 tanks opened fire.
"Boom!" The German tanks erupted in flames, one by one.
The blazing tanks turned into massive torches, illuminating the German line as surviving crew members scrambled out of hatches, engulfed in flames, frantically waving their arms and screaming in agony.
The French tanks, undeterred, surged forward, pressing onward without mercy. They fired at any German they saw, shooting any tank they came across, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
The French soldiers followed behind, clearing out the remnants of the German defenses as the tanks tore through the German ranks.
The German lines crumbled. Soldiers fled blindly into the dark, unable to even find their bearings in the chaos.
In that moment, the Saint-Chamond M21, for the first time, achieved a commanding momentum on the battlefield.
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