Chapter 175 The Battle of Poland (38)

Sergeant Hans led two squads of soldiers cautiously moving forward. They had just encountered a large crater caused by an aerial bomb on the road, at least a 250-kilogram beast. Tanks couldn't pass through, so they had to wait for the engineers to come and fill the crater before proceeding.

However, Hans didn't want to stay idle with the tanks and chose to continue advancing with his soldiers.

After walking carefully for a while, they reached a corner where they saw a police station ahead. The steps of the police station were already piled with sandbags, and over a dozen dark muzzles protruded from behind the sandbags. In the three-story police building, several windows were tightly sealed with wooden boards. One could vaguely see people behind the sandbags aiming their weapons at the street.

Hans, who understood Polish, shouted loudly, "Listen, surrender and drop your weapons! We won't kill you!"

The response was a burst of gunfire, but Hans and his men were hiding around the corner, and the bullets didn't touch them.

"Bunch of fools!" Hans disdainfully spat. "Communicator, call for air support!"

The signalman carried a tactical radio, as primitive brick-sized walkie-talkies, like those used by sniper teams, had not yet been mass-produced throughout the army.

Nevertheless, these tactical radios were already quite advanced. Under favorable conditions, they could smoothly conduct voice communication within a 5-kilometer range with products from the same series. Equipped with a key, they could also use Morse code to communicate remotely with higher-level units. With this communication equipment, the German military's troop movements would become more flexible, enhancing the emergency response capability of the troops to unforeseen circumstances. No more situations where messengers ran out of breath after dodging bullets only to deliver outdated messages. Commanders could maintain synchronous communication with the front lines, receive firsthand intelligence promptly, and react immediately.

It's worth noting that similar Galvin Manufacturing Corporation SCR-300 radios wouldn't be finalized for production until 1943.

Germany's electronic technology wasn't weaker than that of the United States. Given enough material and financial support, coupled with correct guidance (to avoid them choosing the wrong technology path), they could entirely outclass their rivals.

After a while, the signalman reported, "Sergeant, Stuka will arrive in five minutes. Let's prepare the markings."

Hans nodded. "Jason, help me take out the grenade launcher and a red signal grenade."

The soldier called Jason rummaged through Hans' backpack, pulled out a grenade launcher and a grenade. Hans took the grenade launcher and secured it under the barrel of his MP44. This grenade launcher was a replica of the Soviet GP-25 40mm underslung grenade launcher, boasting excellent performance, simple structure, robust durability, and easy operation. There were no Picatinny rails or similar rails yet, but this launcher could be attached to the barrel and pressed tightly inside without any tools, making it quite quick to mount and dismount.

With the launcher secured, Hans inserted the red signal grenade into the tube and waited quietly. He heard the distant, muffled roar of engines.

He slightly turned his body and pulled the trigger toward the police station, quickly retreating before the enemy could counterfire.

The signal grenade dropped into the courtyard of the police station, emitting a large amount of red smoke. When the Polish forces realized something was wrong and tried to pick up and throw away the grenade, it was already too late. As the Stuka, circling in the sky for half a lap, began its dive, the buzzing of the siren changed from a low tone to a high pitch, finally turning into a heart-wrenching wail.

The piercing scream made the Polish people on the ground tremble with fear, gazing in horror at the plane that was diving straight towards them.

"Oh God! The plane is about to crash! Run!"

Some Polish people were encountering Stuka bombings for the first time, thinking the plane was about to collide with them. They panicked, ignoring the loud reprimands of their officers.

Unfortunately, before they could take a few steps, the 500-kilogram aerial bomb on the Stuka's rack had already dropped, hitting the roof of the police station with a force of nearly a thousand kilometers per hour. The not-so-thick cement roof couldn't withstand the enormous impact, and the bomb fell from the third-floor roof to the ground floor.

The Polish soldiers guarding the corridor on the ground floor twitched at the corners of their mouths, watching this enormous bomb. Before they could run away, the small propeller at the bomb's tail slowly came to a stop.

"Boom!"

With a tremendous explosion, Hans and his group keenly felt the enormous shockwaves passing beneath their feet.

They saw scorching flames spewing from various windows, accompanied by a massive explosion. The entire building, like a soda can bursting with flames, quickly expanded until it couldn't bear it anymore and collapsed with a resounding crash. The shockwave of the explosion turned the debris of the building into deadly projectiles, shooting in all directions. Meanwhile, the tongues of fire didn't dissipate in the explosion but wildly spread, rolling outwards like waves.

"Heh, isn't this a bit too exaggerated?" Hans couldn't help but click his tongue. The dust rose wildly, and wherever the gaze reached, it was hazy and gray. Even the air they breathed had a burning sensation. He didn't expect the bomber to drop such an exaggerated large bomb; in his opinion, a bomb of around 250 kilograms could easily handle this place.

In any case, this big guy cleanly helped them clear the obstacle. Hans and his group walked through the ruins, ready to continue forward, when suddenly they saw someone passing by the windows of a building ahead.

"Take cover!" The people quickly found cover on the spot, aiming their guns at that window. They saw a shaky wooden stick with a white cloth hung on it poking out of the window. "We surrender! Don't shoot! We surrender!" Someone inside shouted in broken German, their voice filled with confusion and fear.

"Throw your weapons out of the window!" Hans shouted loudly. "Come out with your hands up, let me see you have no weapons!"

Dozens of rifles were thrown out of the window one by one. The Poles seemed still uneasy, shouting, "Don't shoot! We're coming out! Don't fire!"

"Come out; I guarantee not to open fire!"

A few seconds later, a haggard-looking Polish soldier walked out of the building, raising both hands high, holding a white handkerchief. He had his neck tucked into his coat, his eyes full of fear and a pleading expression.

Hans waved at him. "Where are the others? Come out!"

One by one, Polish soldiers walked out of the building, about a platoon. These Polish soldiers sat down in frustration, looking at the police station building that had been blown to pieces with shock and fear. It seemed they were afraid the next bomb would fall on the building where they were hiding, so they decided to surrender.

Capturing so many people at once, Hans was in a pretty good mood. He took out a pack of cigarettes and a box of matches from his pocket, throwing them to the prisoners.