Chapter 60 Move forward! Assault gun! (superior)

When the first ray of sunshine in the morning penetrated the last darkness before dawn and covered the wet grassland with rain and dew, Michel Wittmann, who had just woken up from a night's nap, immediately rolled over from his camp bed. After getting dressed a little and putting on his military cap, he immediately grabbed the black leather gloves on the bed and prepared to run out of the tent.

"Hey Klink, wake up. The sun is beating down on your butt. Do you want General Dietrich to wake you up in person?"

As if his eyes were stuck with strong adhesive, he forcibly raised his eyelids during the struggle. Gunner Klink, who was exhausted and sleepy after the whole day's battle yesterday, was obviously still alive. I couldn't completely break the seal in my sleep.

"Heh heh heh heh"

He stretched out his hand and let out a big yawn, taking off the coat covering himself. He half-uprighted from the cot and sat on the edge of the bed. He blinked his sleepy eyes and was confused about the current situation. His throat was dry and thirsty. Klink, who had a somewhat hoarse voice, then weakly asked Wittmann who was checking his gun.

"What time is it, Michelle."

After hearing the question from Klink, he rolled up his sleeves and raised his hand to glance at the time on his watch. Wittmann, who also felt a little thirsty after waking up at night, grabbed a tent beside him. After taking a sip from the hanging kettle, he spoke to Klink who was already taking care of his military uniform.

"The time is now five-fifteen, and today is the time for us to go on stage and sing a good show, Klink! So you'd better not let me off the hook today, understand? Hurry up!"

After finishing his words, he listened to the figure of Wittmann walking out of the tent quickly and leaving. Klink, who was familiar with Wittmann's character and hardly took these cruel words seriously, didn't even think about it. Take it to your heart.

"Yes, you said the same thing the last time I fought against Ivan's border guards. As a result, the whole day's fighting was no different than marching on the streets. Only a fool would believe you."

Although there were some interruptions in the busy schedule, Michel Wittmann's No. 3A assault gun crew, who had woken up from his sleep one after another, still followed Wittmann's orders and rushed to the scene in the shortest possible time. After everyone finished getting ready, they quickly ran to their own car and began to perform their respective duties.

At the same time, not far from the No. 3A assault gun belonging to the SS Guardsmen Division, Wittmann, who was already full of energy with his arms folded, was talking to the commander of his assault gun battalion. exchanging last thoughts before the war.

"Listen, Michelle. According to the offensive plan I just went to the division headquarters for a meeting, our battalion will devote all of our battalion to the battle in today's attack. The task is to prepare for the tanks and infantry. Provide close artillery support and focus on attacking the Ivans’ fortifications and anti-tank artillery.”

"When the attack starts later, Michel. You are responsible for commanding your platoon to attack with the armored company commanded by Lieutenant Heizenauer. There will be two additional companies of infantry to support you. Specific mission objectives and attack direction Lieutenant Heizenauer will be in charge of the field, and you will be temporarily under his command."

After hearing the order from the battalion commander, Wittmann, who crossed his arms and shrugged, looked very calm.

"In that case, what are Ivan's tanks going to do? Our division's No. 3 and No. 4 tanks are unable to deal with those T34s and KVs. Is it possible that the people above thought that Ivan's tanks would break down on the spot or take the initiative to attack them? Do we surrender?"

The battalion commander, who was familiar with Michelle's disrespect for the superior officers, did not take it too seriously. Then the conversation changed and he continued to speak to Wittmann in front of him.

"Forget about the Soviet tanks. The more I think about this, the more headaches I get. Who knows how those Ivans who only drink vodka all day can build such a tank with such excellent performance."

"When I went to a meeting, someone once asked the same question at the meeting, and the answer I got from General Dietrich was, "The Air Force will take care of most of the Soviet tanks for us, and the armored forces only need Just do your best as planned."

"I think you know better than me what to do, Michel. Kill this Soviet army group, and our Southern Army Group's road to Kiev will be clear! This is what the head of state gave our Guards Division. Glorious mission and glory!”

With increasingly firm and passionate words, he stretched out his right arm and patted Michelle's shoulder. After finishing his words, the commander of the assault gun battalion immediately took a step back and raised his right arm to a 45-degree angle, pointing straight at the sky.

"Hi, Hitler!"

Just as he was eating and sleeping, he raised his right hand as naturally and sincerely as he did. Wittmann immediately responded loudly with the same tone as the commander of the assault gun battalion in front of him, and even more passionately.

"Hi, Hitler!"

Looking at the back of the commander of the assault artillery battalion who was striding away after completing the combat mission, Wittmann put his hands on his hips and smashed his own mouth, feeling a little inexplicable pain, and couldn't help but let out a long lament.

"I was singing the Armored March in my mouth, but in my heart I was thinking that Marshal Göring's support would be in place in time. If I had known this, it would be better to listen to Dallas and fly those big birds."

But reality is reality, and complaints are complaints.

As a loyal SS soldier with the Führer as his ultimate belief, Wittmann, who has never doubted that the direction of the Führer's sword is where justice lies, also understands exactly where he should go now. Do something.

After sorting the military cap in his hand for a while, he put it back on his head and put it on again. After returning to his car, Wittmann immediately asked a few of his crew members who were still busy.

"How's it going, guys, are our tanks in good shape?"

Dangdang——

After hearing the question from Wittmann, he gently waved the extra-large wrench in his hand, which was used to maintain and disassemble the assault gun's road wheel, and slapped it on the armor plate of the car body, making an unusually clear sound. He was quite confident and confident. The pilot Koldenhoff, who was extremely proud of the job he was responsible for, responded with a hearty smile and answered.

"Every inch of track and every road wheel is carefully polished like a work of art, Michelle. Now even if you want to drive it to a racing competition, it's no problem. Of course, I can't guarantee you that you can get it." What a great ranking.”