roccoschili Chapter 93 The Rebellious 88mm Gun: A Gift for Rommel
Chapter 93 The Rebellious 88mm Gun: A Gift for Rommel
Chapter 93 The Rebellious 88mm Gun: A Gift for Rommel (Bonus Chapter)
1940年6月6日，13：00：00。法国，皮卡第大区，阿布维尔大桥南岸防空高地。德军第16防空团第2营阵地。
three.
Major Ryder's boots silently pressed down on the grass. His first assault team had moved to the left flank, position one.
The German gunner at position number two has a 45-degree blind spot to his side.
two.
Lieutenant Gray's second assault team completed the encirclement of the right flank gun positions three and four, as well as the ammunition depot guards.
One hundred Cold Creek Guardsmen's hands hovered five centimeters in front of the mouths and noses of one hundred German Luftwaffe soldiers. Their other hands were already gripping the knurled handle of Fairbairn-Sykes assault daggers, the diamond-shaped carbon steel blades aimed at the kidney area in the lower back or the arteries on the side of the neck of the targets.
One.
Arthur Sterling's fingers tightened suddenly, gripping Major Kruger's collarbone.
Major Hans Kluge lost his balance due to the sudden shift in his center of gravity, and his upper body leaned back uncontrollably, exposing his vulnerable throat to Arthur's view.
Goodnight, Hans.
Arthur flipped his right wrist.
The black Fairbairn-Sykes dagger slid into the palm of the hand with the aid of gravity.
Without any unnecessary movements, Arthur's arm muscles contracted, propelling the blade upwards.
The sharp tip of the knife pierced the skin at the base of Kruger's jaw, avoiding the hard mandible, penetrating the tongue muscle and soft palate, severing the nerve bundle at the junction of the medulla oblongata and spinal cord, and finally stopping below the skull base.
This was a textbook example of "brainstem destruction".
The human brain instantly loses control over all the body's muscular systems.
Major Kruger didn't even have time to feel the pain before his pupils dilated to the edges due to the interruption of his brain's nerves. Air was trapped in his throat, and his vocal cords lost their ability to vibrate. Although his heart was still beating due to residual electrical signals, his body was medically dead.
He slumped down, his weight resting entirely on Arthur's left hand.
On this air defense position with a radius of 200 meters, the same physical processes are happening simultaneously.
This is a collective muscle memory achieved through rigorous training.
One hundred large hands simultaneously covered the target's mouth and nose, blocking the transmission of sound through the respiratory tract. One hundred daggers simultaneously pierced the human body.
puff.
The subtle sounds of a sharp blade cutting through military uniform fibers, piercing the skin, and slicing through muscle tissue converged to form a low, short noise.
This was followed by the sound of metal scraping against bone, and the cracking sound of the cervical spine being violently twisted.
There were no screams. No gunshots. No stumbling struggles.
Gravity took over the hundred bodies that had instantly lost their life force. They went limp and slid down, gently placed by the attackers behind them on sandbags, beside gun emplacements, or in the damp mud of trenches.
The entire process lasted 2.8 seconds.
When Arthur released his grip, letting Major Kruger's body slide down beside his boots, the entire position had undergone a silent change of ownership. The commotion was so subtle that even the British troops on the other side of the bridge did not notice anything amiss.
But the position seemed even quieter, with only the barrels of the six 88mm guns in the distance still making a slight metallic tremor in the breeze.
Arthur took out a clean white linen handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped away the cerebrospinal fluid and dark red venous blood remaining in the dagger's blood groove.
"Clean up the scene."
He brushed a speck of dust off his uniform: "Drag the body behind the cover. Use an entrenching tool to shovel some dirt to cover the blood. Don't let our guests see it."
He stepped over Major Kruger's body, his boots crunching on the blood-stained grass, and walked straight toward the No. 1 gun emplacement at the forefront of the position.
"Ryder, notify the convoy to move in."
"Deploy our tanks on the reverse slope behind the ridgeline. I don't want the Germans to see anything except the 88mm gun."
13:15, inside the air defense position.
A tense but orderly change of uniforms and deployment is underway.
The pretense has ended.
With a rough tearing sound, the SS "Oak Leaf" camouflage smocks, stained with the warm blood of German Luftwaffe soldiers, were ripped off by the Cold Creek Guards like dead skin and mercilessly discarded on the chalky soil mixed with blood.
The "SS-999 Special Operations Battalion," which was feared by German intelligence, vanished completely in that instant.
-
Instead, the Sterling battle group revealed its ferocious true form.
Black German-style armored jackets and khaki 1937 British combat uniforms were once again exposed to the glaring sunlight. Soldiers, with blood-stained boots, walked expressionlessly over the SS insignia and counterfeit armbands bearing skulls on the ground.
They are no longer actors; they are executioners.
Two people per group. Drag. Stack.
The still-convulsing German corpses were quickly dragged into the shadows of the ammunition depot and hastily covered with a waterproof tarpaulin painted in Wehrmacht gray—Arthur's fig leaf for them.
Several Scottish engineers were shoveling soil stained with brownish-red blood, throwing it outside the trenches, and then covering it with a layer of fresh soil.
Meanwhile, at the artillery position, a chaotic situation regarding "human-computer interaction" is erupting.
"Damn Germans! Is the instruction manual for this thing written in Martian language?"
Captain Higgins was sitting in the right gunner's seat of the 88mm FIak 36 anti-aircraft gun, sweating profusely.
This veteran from the 1st Heavy Anti-Aircraft Regiment, though a former expert in operating Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft guns, capable of turning dozens of SS soldiers into mincemeat in one go, felt an unprecedented sense of defeat in the face of this excessively precise German artillery.
This 8.8cm Flak 36 is not a simple cannon. It is a complex weapon system that integrates optics, mechanics, and ballistics.
Before Higgins lay a dazzling array of dials and gears.
Especially the Zeiss ZF20E optical sight.
This is not just a telescope; it is an optical computer that integrates ballistic calculation assistance. The densely packed reticles in the eyepiece correspond to different types of projectiles, distances, and lead.
What annoyed him even more was that the adjustment knobs were covered with obscure German abbreviations: "Erhöhung" (elevation), "Seite" (azimuth), and "Entfernung" (distance).
Compared to the simple and crude Bofors anti-aircraft gun that relied on tracer rounds to correct its trajectory, this German precision instrument drove Captain Higgins, who was used to "shooting by feel," to despair.
"Higgins! Ignore that angle! It's level now!"
Major Ryder, while directing several soldiers to move heavy wooden crates of ammunition, rushed over and roared, "We need a 180-degree turn! Turn that damn 'Seite' (azimuth) handwheel! Move the gun muzzle away from the bridgehead and aim it south! Quickly!"
"I'm shaking the major! But this gear is too heavy!"
Higgins gritted his teeth, his arm muscles bulging, and frantically turned the massive traversing wheel.
Handwheel).
These six 88mm guns were originally intended by Rommel to block the bridge on the north bank. He did not want the Alas incident to repeat itself, so he deployed the 88mm guns here in advance, and their muzzles were kept horizontal, pointing firmly at the only way for the 51st Hill Division.
But now, they've been taken by Arthur.
With the clicking sound of gears meshing, this 7-ton steel behemoth was mounted on the Kreuzlafette.
A dull rubbing sound came from the ball bearing.
The six dark cannon barrels began to slowly and steadily rotate horizontally.
The cannon barrel rotates 180 degrees.
Death's scythe moved away from the prey's neck and turned towards the approaching hunter.
The arrogant posture that originally pointed north gradually disappeared, and it eventually became a black grim reaper pointing horizontally due south.
Meanwhile, Arthur's main armored force is moving into position.
The twenty-four Panzer IV Ausf. D tanks did not park directly on the conspicuous high ground, but instead used the ruins of the monastery and the earthen slope as cover to move into defensive positions with their turrets facing down.
They concealed their vulnerable hulls behind earthen ramps, exposing only the short, stubby 75mm KwK37L/24 gun barrel and the hardened turret frontal armor.
Six StuG III Ausf. A, with their low profile, lay hidden in the bushes on both sides of the road, acting as "daggers" on the flanks. Their fixed fighting compartments had 50 mm thick armor on the front, enough to withstand direct fire from German 37 mm anti-tank guns.
This is a vast, open net.
In the center of the net, the bait and the hunter are one—those six dark, menacing 88mm anti-aircraft guns.
Arthur stood in front of the observation hole in the command post, looking at the edge of the RTS map, where the bright red torrent representing the German armored forces had broken through the last fog of war.
Even without using RTS Arthur, or rather, everyone could feel that rapidly approaching, powerful force.
That was the full view of the main force of the 25th Armored Regiment. Dust obscured half the sky, filtering the midday sunlight into a murky yellowish-brown.
[Enemy Strength Assessment: Extremely Dangerous]
[Unit Identified: 7th Armored Division - 25th Armored Regiment (Main Force Group)]
[Commander: Colonel Karl Rothenburg]
[Current Formation: Regiment-level wedge assault column (Keil)]
[Frontline Group (1st Armored Battalion)]
38 (t) light tanks: 54 vehicles (Comment: Czech-made main force as dense as a wolf pack)
Panzer II: 30 vehicles (responsible for reconnaissance and flank cover)
[Central Army Group (2nd Armored Battalion + Regiment Headquarters)]
Panzer III (Panzer III Ausf. E): 22 vehicles (anti-armor backbone)
Panzer IV (Vausf. D): 16 vehicles (supported by 75mm short-barreled howitzers)
Command Tanks: 4 [Combined with rearguard and mechanized infantry (3rd Armored Battalion)]
Sd.Kfz.251 half-track: 120+ vehicles (fully loaded with grenadiers from the 7th Motorized Infantry Brigade)
Opel Lightning trucks/artillery tractors: 200+ units Total: 120+ tanks, 300+ auxiliary vehicles
This isn't some armored regiment; it's almost half of Rommel's 7th Panzer Division!
"Reload."
Arthur gave the order.
Four burly Scottish loaders lifted the heavy shells, marked with yellow identification rings.
PzGr.39 (Panzergranate39) — Armor-piercing projectile with a capped windproof cap.
This is an extremely vicious type of ammunition.
It weighs 10.2 kg. The warhead is made of high-hardness chromium-nickel steel and is covered with an alumina cap (APC) to prevent ricocheting or fragmentation upon impact with sloped armor. There is also a streamlined wind cap (BC) at the very front to reduce air resistance and maintain velocity.
Inside the missile body, there is a small amount of high explosive and a delayed fuse.
Its design logic follows the purest form of violent aesthetics.
This 10.2 kg capped armor-piercing projectile, propelled by a high initial velocity of 820 m/s, possesses a devastating statistic: at a distance of 1000 meters, it can penetrate 110 mm of homogeneous rolled steel armor (RHA) at a 30-degree angle.
This is a performance metric that overflows into absurdity.
The 38(t) tanks charging towards them had only 25mm of armor, and the Panzer IV had only 30mm. Compared to the Flak 36, they couldn't even be called armored targets; they were merely soft-skinned vehicles.
In fact, this terrifying penetrating power was so advanced that even the Soviet KV-1 heavy tank, which struck fear into the hearts of the German army on the Eastern Front a year later, could not withstand its direct fire within 1000 meters. Before the IS-2 heavy tank appeared in 1944, no land vehicle on Earth had frontal armor that could guarantee survival within the kill radius of an 88mm gun.
Once the warhead penetrates the vehicle without obstruction, the delayed fuse at the rear will activate the explosives inside the warhead core.
The hundreds of high-speed fragments generated by the explosion, combined with the hot armor fragments that detached during the penetration, would create a comprehensive metal storm inside that sealed steel can, turning the occupants, radio equipment, and ammunition racks into an unrecognizable mixture of flesh and scrap metal in milliseconds.
But that's not the most despairing thing for the enemy tanks.
The true terror of the 8.8cm Flak 36 lies in its high rate of fire, a trait inherited from its anti-aircraft lineage.
To detect Allied bomber formations moving at 400 kilometers per hour at an altitude of 10,000 meters, Krupp designers equipped this gun with an extremely sophisticated semi-automatic horizontal sliding wedge breech.
breech).
This mechanism uses the recoil energy of the cannon to automatically complete the unlocking, extraction, and ejection processes, and then locks itself in the open position, awaiting the loading of the next shell. This means that the loader does not need to perform tedious unlocking and locking operations; he only needs to ram the shell into the breech.
For a well-trained gun crew, this means a sustained rate of fire of 15 to 20 rounds per minute.
On average, an armor-piercing round capable of destroying a heavy tank is fired every 3 to 4 seconds.
In contrast, the Bofors 40mm anti-aircraft gun that Captain Higgins used to operate had a theoretical rate of fire of 120 rounds per minute, but that was only firing small-caliber ammunition weighing less than 1 kilogram, while the 88mm gun was at least ten times more powerful.
This means that at this distance, the German armored troops didn't even have time to correct their mistakes or reverse and escape.
If the first car is destroyed, the second car will also be reduced to scrap metal three seconds later.
This is the most efficient killing power within the limits allowed by the laws of physics.
"Clang!"
The shell was pushed into the breech. The semi-automatic wedge-shaped gun door automatically locked upon impact with the edge of the shell, producing a crisp metallic clanging sound.
Death has been loaded.
13：25。阿布维尔以南3公里，D928公路。德军第7装甲师第25装甲团主力纵队。
The earth was trembling.
This tremor originates from the physical resonance generated when thousands of tons of steel tracks roll over the ground.
Colonel Oberst Karl Rothenburg stood in the turret of his Panzer III command tank, his upper body leaning out of the vehicle.
As Rommel's most trusted armored regimental commander, this Prussian officer, who had received the Iron Cross, carried the arrogance unique to the "Ghost Division".
-
Behind him stretched a long, unbroken steel dragon.
Leading the charge was the 38(t) light tank.
These armored vehicles, produced by the Czechoslovakian Škoda factory, bore the German Iron Cross insignia, but their very essence was Czech industrial. Equipped with a 37mm KwK38(t) cannon, their firepower was meager, but their excellent mobility and reliable mechanical performance made them the spearhead of the 7th Panzer Division's reconnaissance.
However, they have one fatal weakness: riveted armor.
Their frontal armor plates, only 25 millimeters thick, were riveted to the vehicle frame. This was tantamount to suicide when facing large-caliber armor-piercing rounds.
Following closely behind were the Panzer III tank, which formed the backbone of the armored force, and the Panzer IV tank, which provided fire support.
The diesel engine roared, the track plates pounded against the road, and the half-track vehicles rubbed against each other—this was "blitzkrieg."
Dust obscured half the sky.
"Commander, our air defense positions have been spotted ahead."
The report from the advance reconnaissance company commander came through the headset, the background filled with the static of radio interference: "South bank of the hill at Abbeville bridge. Six 88mm guns visually confirmed. Muzzles pointing south. SS flag confirmed to be flying."
Rothenburg raised the Zeiss telescope.
In the footage, a black SS swallowtail flag was indeed flying over the distant hill. Six 88mm mortars stood silently, their long barrels pointing south? The direction they had come from?
Rothenburg frowned slightly.
"Why are the cannons pointed at us?"
But he answered that question in just one second.
"Hmph, those SS soldiers." Rothenburg chuckled dismissively. "They probably got it backwards, or maybe they wanted to pay tribute to us in this way? After all, besides tidying up military discipline and carrying out political purges, they don't know anything about tactical deployment."
"What are General Rommel's orders?" the adjutant beside him shouted amidst the noise.
"The general said that a British commando unit disguised as SS troops may be operating in this area." Rothenburg lowered his binoculars, his tone full of disdain. "According to the Self-Defense Forces, the code name seems to be SS-999."
"6
"An Englishman? Here?"
The adjutant chuckled, revealing a set of dusty teeth. "Commander," he said, "the British are probably fighting tooth and nail in the harbor right now over a fishing boat. How could they possibly dare to ambush us in our own territory?"
"Besides," Rothenburg patted the 30-millimeter-thick surface-hardened armor plate in front of him, "look at that position."
So quiet, so tidy. If they were British, they would be busy blowing up those cannons and running away, not setting up a battle formation to wait for us.
95
This is a kind of habitual way of thinking.
Over the past month, the 7th Armored Division has been unstoppable. They routed the French 9th Army and chased the British Expeditionary Force on the run. The victory brought not only honor, but also a deep-seated sense of superiority.
They didn't believe the British had the ability to retaliate, let alone the courage.
Admittedly, they were briefly halted by the British under Matilda during the Battle of Arras. But that was merely a minor tactical setback. For this victorious force, that loss was like a splinter breaking off from a high-speed gear—insignificant in the face of the relentless march of the war machine.
"Notify the entire regiment."
Rothenburg ordered into his throat microphone: "Maintain marching formation. Speed up across the highlands. Ignore the SS. Our target is the 51st Highland Division on the north bank. If we don't find that camouflaged convoy, the general authorizes us to take out the Scots directly."
"Full speed ahead (Panzer vor)!"
The steel torrent suddenly accelerated. The tracks kicked up even higher columns of dust as it surged toward the silent high ground.
13:28. North bank of Abbeville, British 51st Highland Division defensive line.
The ground tremors were transmitted to the north bank, and even the water in the trenches began to ripple.
Major General Victor Fortune stood by the trench, his face pale as he watched the yellowish-brown dust dragon rising from the south bank.
Even across a valley several kilometers wide, the oppressive feeling generated by the advance of such a large armored formation still made him feel suffocated.
"They're here."
Major General Fortune's voice drifted on the wind: "That's Rommel's main force. At least one armored regiment."
Meanwhile, in the forward trenches, the Scottish soldiers from the Gordon Highlanders gripped their Boys anti-tank rifles.
这根粗大的、发射.55口径穿甲弹的管子，是他们手里唯一的单兵反坦克武器。但在面对四号坦克甚至38（t）时，它就像是一根烧火棍一样无力。它的穿深在100米距离上仅有23毫米，而哪怕是38（t）的正面也有25毫米。
"Make sure to drill through that observation hole," a Scottish sergeant whispered to the recruit beside him, his hands trembling slightly. "That's the only place we can get through."
A sense of despair was spreading.
Everyone believed that the six devastating 88mm guns on the south bank, along with the massive armored column that was approaching, would turn this place into a slaughterhouse within ten minutes.
Unbeknownst to anyone, on that high ground on the south bank, a group of "our own people" dressed in black uniforms were adjusting their aim in preparation for the impending collision.
13:30. South bank highlands of Abbeville, gun position number one.
Distance: 1200 meters.
At this distance, the ZF20E sight's 4x magnification filled the entire field of view with the lead 38(t) tank.
You can even clearly see the dense array of rivets on the vehicle's armor.
For tank crews, riveted armor is a fatal flaw. Once hit by a large-caliber shell, even if it doesn't penetrate, the enormous impact will break the rivets, causing them to fly around the vehicle like bullets, killing the crew.
Higgins sat on the shooter's bench, his eyes pressed tightly against the rubber goggles.
Sweat streamed down his forehead and into his eyes, stinging them. His palms were sweaty and slippery, almost too wet to hold.
Do not hold the steering wheel handle.
"Damn it—it's jumping—"
Higgins muttered to himself.
His crosshairs kept shaking. The German tank appeared to be larger or smaller in the scope, and every time he tried to lock onto it, it would jump out of his field of vision as the terrain undulated.
This is real combat.
When a dozen tanks charge at 40 kilometers per hour, the visual impact is enough to shatter the psychological defenses of an ordinary gunner. Especially when you realize that if you miss, those dozen tank guns will blow your position to smithereens in the next second.
"Too fast—I can't keep up with the lateral movement—" Higgins' breathing became rapid and disordered.
A hand suddenly grabbed his collar.
Those are Arthur's hands.
"Get down."
Arthur's voice was icy, giving Higgins no time to react.
"Sir—Sir?" Higgins paused for a moment, then turned to look at Arthur.
"I told you to come down."
Arthur exerted a sudden burst of strength, pulling Higgins off the shooter's bench and slamming him onto the sandbag next to him.
"You might be good at anti-aircraft guns, Higgins. Shooting those Stukas that only dive doesn't take much brainpower. But when it comes to sniping tanks, you'd better go back to the womb and practice some more."
Arthur stepped over the pile of empty shell casings and sat in the metal chair that still held Higgins's warmth.
His hands gripped the cold steering wheel and elevation control wheel.
A strange sense of familiarity spread from his fingertips throughout his body. It was as if he had used this thing countless times before.
Those who have ever used the 88mm gun should know that this thing is used to shoot down tanks.
He put his eyes on the eyepiece.
The world instantly shrank to a circular field of vision.
Through the crystal-clear optical lens, the lead 38(t) tank became crystal clear. Its tracks kicked up dust, and its turret rotated slightly as it searched for its target.
Arthur didn't rush to turn the knob. He took a deep breath, held it, and slowed his heartbeat to a minimum.
At that moment, he was no longer the commander, no longer the SS captain.
He is merely the brain of this 7-ton steel behemoth.
"1000 meters away."
Arthur silently recited the data in his mind.
"Target speed: 40 km/h. Lateral component: 15 degrees."
"Wind speed 3 m/s, from west to east."
Lead time: 1.5 microseconds.
His fingers turned the steering wheel knob with extremely fine precision. The black crosshairs no longer chased the tank, but slid smoothly ahead of its path, quietly waiting for the prey to run into them.
This is called "ambush shooting".
It's not about chasing after a goal, but about anticipating its future.
The front of the 38(t) tank crashed into the edge of the sight.
Next up is the turret.
Then there's the center of the vehicle body.
The instant the yellow 7th Armored Division insignia (capital Y) touched the vertical axis of the crosshairs.
Arthur slammed his right foot down on the firing pedal.
boom!
The immense recoil caused the entire ground to tremble. The gust of wind from the muzzle brake instantly blew away the camouflage netting in front of the gun position, kicking up a cloud of dust.
An 88mm capped armor-piercing projectile bursts out of the gun barrel at an initial velocity of 820 m/s.
It tore through the air with a chilling shriek.
This is a supersonic death sentence.
1.2 seconds later.
The speeding 38(t) tank in the distance seemed to have crashed into an invisible wall.
There were no sparks from the ricocheting bullets.
Faced with enormous kinetic energy, the 38(t)'s frontal armor, which was only 25 millimeters thick, was like a piece of soaked cardboard.
The armor-piercing projectile penetrated the upper frontal armor and entered the vehicle's interior.
Next comes the release of energy.
Delayed fuse detonation.
Boom.
The tank's turret, like a kicked-away soda can, flew ten meters into the air, tumbling and spewing orange-red flames.
The ammunition inside the vehicle detonated. The entire tank instantly turned into a violently burning fireball, and thousands of fragments rained down on the road.
A single, decisive blow.
Arthur did not stop to admire the magnificent fireworks.
His hands had already begun turning the knobs, and the crosshairs smoothly moved toward the second tank.
That was Colonel Rothenburg's command tank, number three.
"The show is about to begin, Rommel."
A cold smile curled at the corners of Arthur's lips.
"Next."
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