Chapter 49: The Queen, A Myth

As the capital of Wales, Cardiff and its surrounding villages, apart from being slightly larger in scale and intersected by multiple roads, are not much different from typical British countryside. Despite the ferocious bombardment by the British fleet, it was impossible to cover the entire 180 square kilometers of Cardiff. Therefore, when the burning port illuminated half the sky, these villages remained particularly tranquil.

Perhaps the British Navy did not anticipate that over 200 tanks, armored vehicles, and trucks belonging to the German 17th Armored Division were concealed behind buildings, some quaint and some grand, in these villages. In the spirit of friendly coexistence, German tank crews and armored infantry only requisitioned part of these buildings for temporary rest. They even refrained from touching the personal belongings of the British residents, apart from confiscating any weapons, demonstrating the integrity of the German Armed Forces.

"Hey, Frank, don't you think that British girl upstairs is hot? How does she compare to your Julia?" A young corporal, blond and clad in the gray uniform of a tank crewman (an early uniform for assault gunners), lounged in a chair, nudging his companion at the table, who was writing a letter. The young tank crewman, with slightly sunken eyes and a somewhat haggard appearance, held a pen in his hand, seemingly struggling to find the right words to express his emotions.

"Don't be silly, Julia is incomparable to anyone!" the dark-haired young sergeant said with unwavering certainty.

"Tsk tsk, look at you, so lovesick! Hey, let's pray the war ends soon. Then you can snuggle up to Julia's behind every night!" The blond corporal teased without malice, prompting laughter from the tank crewmen sitting around, as well as the infantrymen nearby.

Boredom in military life inevitably led to such banter, and the dark-haired sergeant seemed accustomed to it. He quickly finished writing the last sentence on the paper. "Hmm, when I receive the Knight's Iron Cross, regardless of whether the war has ended or not, I'll return to Bavaria to marry her!"

"The Knight's Iron Cross? That's not so difficult! Just knock out another five Matildas, my gunner brother, and you're guaranteed one! But...standards might change over time, so you better hurry!" The blond corporal reminded with a chuckle.

"Don't joke, it's one thing to hit a Renault-17, but a Matilda?" The dark-haired sergeant carefully folded the letter. "You know very well our short-barreled guns can only penetrate 46mm of armor at 500 meters, and those thick-skinned monsters like Matildas are better kept at a distance!"

The blond sergeant reclined, seemingly wishing he had X-ray vision to see what the busty British girl was doing through the ceiling. Nevertheless, he continued, "Hey, it seems our skilled gunner lacks confidence today! I've heard... a 37mm anti-tank gun from the rear can take them out, let alone our 75mm gun? Besides, we have 80mm thick armor upfront!"

"Easy for you to say, from behind! The Brits won't just stick their behinds out for you to shoot! Even if you're an expert, you're just a sharpshooter!" The dark-haired sergeant joked at himself, tidying up the paper and pen. Taking a sip of lukewarm coffee from his cup, he was about to find a corner to nap when a short, tank-uniformed Army sergeant rushed in. "Assembly! Second row, assemble!"

The tank crewmen hastily grabbed their belongings and rushed outside, followed by the infantrymen assembling in front of the officers.

In the front and back of the house, two Panzer III tanks and two Sturmgeschütz III assault guns were parked separately. A tall, slender lieutenant of the armored infantry gathered his 16 tank crewmen (a tank command equipped with a radio and an additional communicator) together.

"A British armored unit has broken through our positions in the 7-19 area. It's estimated there are 6 to 7 tanks and a large number of infantry! Our mission is to ambush them in the 6-19 area. We haven't received any information about the type of tanks they have, so we need to be extra cautious, understood?"

"Understood!" the tank crewmen responded in unison.

The lieutenant said, "Alright, as before, the command vehicle leads the way. 091 Platoon, follow second, with 077 and 078 in sequential order behind. Move out!"

The tank crewmen hurried to their respective vehicles. Just as the blond corporal was about to climb into the driver's compartment, he suddenly turned to his comrade and said, "Hey, do you think there are any Matildas in there? Surely not all of them!"

The dark-haired sergeant replied somewhat bemusedly, "Why don't you think of something positive, like maybe the British brought back those little toy tanks they used in the last war? Well, if we do encounter Matildas, Mr. Driver, remember to maneuver around to their backsides before calling for me to fire!"

The blond sergeant chuckled mischievously. "Don't worry. Haven't you forgotten? I used to drive a taxi in Berlin before the war!"

Berlin? Berlin taxi drivers are known for their orderliness! The dark-haired sergeant muttered to himself.

Under the cover of night, the sound of gunfire from afar had hardly ceased for over an hour, some seeming to originate from just a few kilometers away. Amidst the roar of engines, two Panzer III tanks advanced onto the road first, followed closely by the low-profile Sturmgeschütz III assault guns. Bringing up the rear were the mechanized infantry, riding motorcycles, half-track armored vehicles, and trucks, executing maneuver warfare. From the departure of the first tank to the last truck leaving the village, the whole procession lasted only 5 or 6 minutes, showcasing the agility of the mechanized forces. Unfortunately, despite having the most advanced and powerful mechanized forces in Europe, most German infantry divisions still relied on mules for transportation. While much of Europe's industry served the Imperial war machine, the overall mechanization of the military was lacking, mainly due to a shortage of vehicles.

The Sturmgeschütz III, despite its low profile, had surprisingly spacious interior compartments. A standard early model Sturmgeschütz III crew consisted of four members: the commander, gunner, loader, and driver. The gunner sat behind the driver, the commander to the left rear of the gunner, and the loader on the right side of the gun breech. Around the fighting compartment were stowage racks for 44 rounds of ammunition. Designed primarily to provide fire support for infantry, its targets often included enemy field defenses and concrete fortifications, with standard ammunition comprising 6 armor-piercing rounds, 28 high-explosive rounds, and 10 smoke rounds. However, the ammunition mix could be adjusted according to the mission objectives.

Peering through the front observation port, the dark-haired sergeant silently watched as the woods, fields, and clouds continued to be lit up by the flames. Matildas. Would they really encounter Matildas? Thanks to the Manstein Plan, the Western Campaign for the German Army had been smooth sailing, but behind the great victories, some of the Allies' weapon systems made the German troops aware of their shortcomings - "Matilda" being one of them. In the Battle of Arras, the elite 7th Armored Division of the German Army was almost overwhelmed. Accompanying SS armored units were scattered by the British infantry tanks. If not for the 88mm flak guns acting as a game-changer, the outcome might have been different. Therefore, German tank crews were instructed that when Matildas or French B1 tanks were spotted, they should immediately call for air support from the Stukas. Only the howling "Black Death" in the Western Theater could restrain these thick-skinned crawling monsters!

The tense atmosphere was somewhat stressful. Suddenly, the commander, leaning his head out of the hatch, spoke over the intercom, "Guys! This battle could very well be our first direct confrontation with the British armored units in Wales! Exciting, isn't it!"

"What if we encounter Matildas?" the dark-haired sergeant asked nervously.

The usually reserved commander replied in his stiff tone, "Well, as Guderian said... we'll kick their butts! And who knows, we might encounter them elsewhere in Britain, so let's maintain the psychological advantage from the start!"

"Well, let's hope their butts are big enough!" The dark-haired sergeant sighed softly. He knew deep down that the "little toys" from the Panzer Museum wouldn't be lumbering across these fields. However, any German tank model currently in service would struggle to gain the upper hand in a head-to-head confrontation with a Matilda II. And in a night tank battle, there were even more uncertainties!

During the day, in addition to fortifying the defense perimeter around Cardiff, the German Army meticulously inspected and measured every road in the city and its surroundings. Revised operational maps were distributed to every infantry platoon and armored unit. Therefore, the fast mechanized forces of the German Army could confidently carry out highway maneuvers. The farther north they went, the denser the sound of gunfire became. After about 20 minutes of driving, the flickering lights were now within sight.

The fast-moving armored units did not recklessly charge into the battlefield. Instead, they sent out wheeled armored cars for reconnaissance, while the main force slowed its advance. Just as a group of German soldiers, some wounded, were retreating from the front, they brought news: a convoy of British tanks and a large number of infantry were advancing from the north, fiercely attacking the headquarters of the 1st Battalion of the 118th Infantry Regiment in a nearby village. Despite putting up a fierce resistance and using the newly issued "Iron Fist" to disable two British tanks, the German side suffered heavy casualties, outnumbered and outgunned by the enemy. The position was on the brink of collapse!

Upon confirming that the British tanks were indeed the heavily armored Matildas, the German commander immediately relayed this critical intelligence to every tank and infantry squad. The armored infantry had only recently encountered the "Iron Fist," which had been deployed for the first time in combat on the Isle of Wight two weeks earlier, and they were not yet fully proficient in using this individual anti-tank weapon.

"It really is Matildas!" The dark-haired sergeant gasped for breath, the least desirable opponents blocking their path. There was no possibility of retreat. Could they really kick their butts? He had his doubts!

"Don't worry too much, guys. The enemy tanks are not numerous, and we can fully utilize the terrain advantages!" The commander's words were either meant to reassure his subordinates or boost his own morale. Shortly after, the orders came down: two Panzer III tanks and a portion of the armored personnel carriers would rush to the outskirts of the village to cover the withdrawal of the German infantry there, while luring the British tanks closer; two Sturmgeschütz III assault guns and the rest of the soldiers would lie in ambush beside the road, ready to catch the British off guard if they followed closely!

The apprehension and anxiety of the German soldiers facing Matildas were not entirely a bad thing. At least, the German High Command had already ordered the equipment department to quickly equip the Panzer III and IV tanks with long-barreled guns to improve their armor-piercing capabilities - although most German staff officers at this time were unaware that the seemingly fanatical yet backward enemy to the east possessed tanks far more formidable than Matildas. And as the British Empire teetered on the brink of collapse, they were increasingly convinced that once the Germans freed up their hands, they would fully turn their attention eastward, advancing toward the lofty ambition of uniting Europe and dominating the world!