Chapter 1634 I Keep My Word

Wittmann's No. 007 command-type Tiger King tank in summer two-color tiger stripe camouflage continued to move slowly along the street.

There are indeed many advantages to fighting in France, for example, the roads built by the French are relatively good. Although the wide and fat Tiger King weighing 70 tons will crush the road surface and make a creaking noise, it is at least much better than driving on the dirt road in Russia.

If it maintains a constant speed of about 10 kilometers, Wegener can even fire more accurately while moving and hit tank-sized targets no more than 500 meters away. This is already a very good result on an old tank without a stabilizer, and it can also further prove that the brick and stone roads built by these French guys are of good quality.

"The gunshots over there seem to have stopped? Wittmann, it's getting smaller and smaller, listen!"

Wegener, who has sharp ears, was the first to hear the change in the sound outside the bulkhead. This guy with particularly sharp ears seems to have the superpower of hearing the wind.

Wittmann, who had received a reminder from Wegener, took off the headphones on his hat and began to listen carefully to the sounds outside.

Even with the roaring gasoline engine noise of the Tiger King heavy tank, Wittmann could still clearly hear the fierce exchange of fire outside, which had obviously changed now.

The sound of gunfire from the central area of ​​the town had become much smaller, and it could even be said that it would soon die down.

Such a situation on the battlefield where fierce firefights were originally taking place could only mean one thing. Wittmann, who realized something, immediately grabbed the headphones and put them back on his forehead, then pressed the communication button on the throat transmitter and spoke.

"Ensher, how are you doing? I can't hear any gunfire here. Is it over on your side?"

The command-type Tiger King heavy tank is equipped with a higher-power vehicle-to-vehicle communication radio station, which has a longer communication distance, stronger signal, and better communication efficiency.

Thanks to this, Ensher's reply soon sounded in the headphones next to Wittmann's ears.

"We are wrapping up, and I have been too busy to contact you."

"This bunch of Allied rubbish is still quite tenacious, but after more than half of them were killed or wounded, they behaved just like the British in the rumors. In front of me are rows of Americans raising their hands in surrender. These bastards have so many good things on them. Damn, one bastard's pockets are so full of chocolate and chewing gum that a helmet can't even fit them. Is his pocket a small mobile warehouse?"

Wittmann, who was amused by Ensher's rare joke, raised his mouth on the spot, and estimated that the war was basically over, continued to speak.

"We haven't encountered a group of surrendering Americans yet, but I think it will be soon."

"We also encountered some stubborn resistance on the way into the city. These Americans lack experience in fighting, but they are rare and stubborn. If they fight a few more battles and become more skilled, I guess they will become very difficult to deal with."

"We have almost dealt with the more than 20 American rubbish tanks. We have killed at least 18 or 19 of them along the way. Have you encountered any? Check the numbers to prevent these rubbish cans from running away from the city."

The conversation between Wittmann and Ensher unconsciously became as if they were not on the battlefield. In fact, it should be like this for these two veterans who have been on the battlefield for a long time.

When they feel that the opponent is worth cheering up and using all their strength to deal with, they will naturally put away all their hippie smiles and humor and deal with it with all their strength.

But the problem is that these American soldiers who can't even touch the soles of the Russians are really bad. Are they worthy of the brothers' full efforts? Obviously not.

So at this time, they started to talk nonsense and joke about the battlefield. There was nothing wrong with this in the eyes of Wittmann and Ensher.

"We don't have many here, just a few, but the number added up to yours is probably not much different. These Americans are so scared that they even forgot to run away. You don't have to worry about their tanks slipping away. There is no need to worry about this, believe me."

Confidence comes from absolute strength and the weakness of the opponent. Wittmann did not refute Ensher's statement. After a brief final confirmation call, he agreed to meet in the town center and hung up.

"Hey! Wittmann! Look, those Americans are coming out!"

"Huh?"

The repeated reminders from Wegener made Wittmann, who had just hung up the call, move his eyes back to the commander's periscope.

As Wegener said, those Americans who raised their hands and saluted with local characteristics were waiting in line in front.

"We have laid down our weapons and are no threat to you! We demand reasonable treatment for prisoners of war as stipulated in the Geneva Convention. Please do not harm us. We will remain where we are now."

"Damn it, I learned German just for this? Shouldn't it be an identity exchange?"

The voices were loud and low, with the first one shouting loudly and the second one whispering softly. Of course, Wittmann could only hear the most critical first half of the sentence.

Realizing that he should do something, Wittmann opened the hatch on his head, carefully raised the telescope out of the turret, and scanned back and forth with half of his head exposed.

There seemed to be nothing unusual behind the American soldiers who surrendered in line. Everything was strangely quiet, and it didn't look like a place where a war broke out.

Wittmann, who had been specially reminded before, raised his telescope and took a few more glances at the commanding heights of the surrounding street buildings. The result was that there was still nothing wrong. It seemed that these American soldiers had indeed surrendered sincerely.

"It's quite simple. If it were the Russian guy, he would still be working hard at this moment."

While muttering in his mouth, he took out a small iron horn from under his captain's seat, which Wittmann had specially ordered from a local French blacksmith. Wittmann felt that this thing would come in handy one day. It just so happened that his new car had a surprisingly large and spacious interior, and it would not be a problem to put a tin speaker next to it.

"Stand still and be patient. We will send people over to capture you. Don't think of any dangerous actions, otherwise we will directly open fire and destroy you! You have already seen the disparity in strength, and I will do what I say."

Wittmann, who was fighting against these American troops for the first time and was still unfamiliar with them, remained vigilant. Even when he shouted with a loudspeaker, he only exposed half of his head outside the car and stretched out the full horn.

But the content of such a slogan really made the American soldiers on the opposite side who were already very unconvinced feel more uncomfortable than swallowing flies alive.

"Fake! These bastards! If we can't call the planes and naval guns, what's the matter with your junk?"