Chapter 47 "Conflict"

After receiving Dietrich's telegram for help on the ground, the German attack aircraft group, which was able to stay in the air for a long time with sufficient aviation fuel, immediately dived straight down to the Soviet tank troops on the ground again.

The terrifying explosions of various types of aerial bombs fell directly into the Soviet tank group with a whistling sound. The German armored forces, which were originally beaten to the ground by the Soviet tank group with absolute quality advantage and almost equal numbers between the two sides, finally felt proud of themselves.

"Those Soviets are retreating, start the car, and intercept them from both wings! We must eat them up in one bite!"

With the great help of the Stuka dive bombers and BF109E3 fighters in the air, the German armored forces, which had almost no advantage against the Soviet tanks, now had someone to support them.

Then, under the order of the armored commander, the Germans began to use the pincer attack, which was the most frequently used and most proficient one by the Germans, to encircle and destroy the offensive forces of the 20th Tank Division of the Soviet Army, or to force them to surrender after losing morale in the encirclement, thus achieving a truly macro-strategic victory.

Facing the skilled and fast pincer attack of the SS Guards Leibstandarte Division, the Soviet tank forces, which had been beaten to pieces and could no longer organize an effective large-scale counterattack under the three-dimensional attack of air-ground integration, finally could no longer hold on. The disorderly rout after losing command began to spread like a plague among the offensive forces of the entire 20th Tank Division.

Holding the telescope tightly in his hand, he witnessed everything on the front line that was irreversible in the frontline command post above his position. His hands were shaking and he could hardly bear such a result, let alone imagine how he would explain to his superiors. The silent division commander Cherniayev could not say a word at this critical moment when he needed to make a decision.

Looking at his partner who had never lost his composure before, Political Commissar Petrov, who already knew that the current battle situation was doomed to be irreversible, sighed and stepped forward.

"Let the troops withdraw first, comrade division commander, we are doomed to lose this battle."

Hearing the familiar tone beside him, Cherniayev was stunned at first. He could not imagine that these words that sounded cowardly and timid would come from Petrov, who always strictly disciplined the army. After coming to his senses, Cherniayev almost responded in that incredible tone.

"Retreat? Are you crazy, Peter!"

"The battle is now at the last moment of victory or defeat, and you are asking me to withdraw the troops at this moment!? If I didn't know you well, Peter, I would have thought you were violating the oath of a party member and the code of conduct of a soldier."

"Enough!"

The sudden roar interrupted the unfinished words of Division Commander Cherniayev. Political Commissar Petrov, whose chest was heaving violently and whose face was red, looked extremely excited at the moment.

"Comrade, look, look for yourself! Look at what kind of battlefield purgatory our soldiers are in now, and see if the blood flowing from the bullet holes on their bodies is as red as your cap badge!"

"You and I both know that the current situation of the war is irreversible, and our troops will even be in danger of being wiped out if they continue like this! Since the situation has reached an irreversible point that cannot be changed by human willpower, why can't we temporarily withdraw our soldiers to preserve our strength!?"

"Every Red Army soldier is a precious treasure of the motherland and the great Soviet Union. The right given to us by Comrade Stalin is only to lead them to victory, not to push them into the abyss with our own hands! If we continue to do nothing like this, your actions will be a crime, and we will be murderers who harm Red Army soldiers! Don't you understand what I mean when I say this!? Comrade!"

Facing Petrov, who was even clapping his hands hard to question him loudly in a hurry, Division Commander Cherniayev, whose mind was blank but had to admit that what Petrov said was true, spoke indifferently.

"Okay, I admit that what you said is right, Peter. But the order I received from General Rokossovsky is to capture and tear open the German defensive positions outside the town of Broad, and contribute to our army's final victory in this battle. There is no objection or question."

"As you said just now, I certainly know that the lives of every one of our Red Army soldiers are extremely precious and cannot be squandered by us. But before that, the first point I want to emphasize is my identity as a senior commander of the Red Army!"

"As a soldier, the biggest taboo is not to execute orders thoroughly enough on the battlefield or to disobey orders! Your opinion is contrary to the combat instructions I received, Peter! Although I also know that this is pushing our soldiers into the fire pit, I have to and must do it!"

"You!"

Never expected that Chernyaev, who was always friendly and often held social activities with grassroots officers and soldiers, would be so cold-blooded at such a critical moment. Petrov, who almost felt that the familiar old friend he knew had completely changed, spoke again slowly, almost word by word.

"You have changed, old friend. Do you remember when we fought against the White Bandits and the petty bourgeoisie who encircled our new Soviet Union with rifles? You were not like today at that time! Have you forgotten it all!?"

The gradually cold eyes seemed to be able to follow the words of Political Commissar Petrov back to the war-torn and passionate past. Petrov and Chernyaev, who had firm beliefs and supreme ideals in their hearts, have been comrades in life and death fighting against the enemy in the same trench since then.

But the enthusiasm of the young and ignorant had long disappeared with the passage of time, and what replaced it was a cold-blooded emotion called rationality and choice.

With his eyes trembling, he forced himself to smooth out the momentary fluctuations on his face, then turned around and spoke softly, as if he was discussing what to eat for lunch today.