Chapter 0813: Overwhelming Force

"My God! Is this still our position?" A British officer gazed at the utterly devastated battlefield in disbelief.

As the sun set, the ferocious bombardment by the Germans finally ceased, granting the British a brief respite. Many soldiers, who had been hiding in the shattered anti-shell bunkers, emerged, only to be confronted by a scene that was unrecognizable compared to the one they had left moments before.

The city was now a complete ruin, and their positions looked as though they had been plowed over by a giant harrow. The trenches they had so painstakingly dug were mostly collapsed, the barbed wire shredded and scattered, and their fire points reduced to mere memories. Worse still, several anti-shell bunkers had been obliterated, burying the men inside, causing British casualties to skyrocket. The Germans had not even launched their attack yet, and the British were already suffering devastating losses. How could they possibly continue the fight?

"Damn those Germans! How many shells did they throw at our positions?" one soldier cursed, his voice thick with frustration.

"Our defensive works are nearly destroyed. When the Germans attack, what are we supposed to do?" another soldier lamented.

Fear and despair hung heavily in the air among the British troops.

"Everyone, listen up! The general has ordered that we immediately restore the defenses!" The British commander issued the command. It was clear that without any fortifications, their survival in the upcoming battle would be impossible. So, the task of rebuilding the defenses had to be undertaken.

Though time was short, they had no choice but to press on.

Exhausted from a day of terror, the British soldiers reluctantly picked up their tools and began the grim work of repairing the defenses. The weariness in their movements was palpable, but duty demanded obedience.

At dawn the next day, the German artillery resumed its bombardment. This time, the intensity was even greater, and the defensive works the British had laboriously restored the night before were again obliterated by the fierce German fire.

The German artillery barrage, however, was short-lived—only lasting about an hour.

By 8 a.m., with their bellies full and spirits high, the German soldiers were fully prepared for the assault.

"Quick, the Germans are coming!" A cry echoed through the British lines as countless soldiers scrambled into position to intercept the advancing enemy. Though their defenses had been decimated, some vestiges remained, offering a semblance of protection.

Above, dozens of German aircraft appeared—both fighter planes and bombers.

These planes swiftly unleashed a deadly barrage on the British positions, inflicting heavy casualties on the soldiers just entering their lines. The surviving men cowered in their trenches, afraid to even raise their heads, let alone return fire against the advancing German infantry.

"Clank, clank!" The grinding of tank treads reverberated across the battlefield. To quickly break through the British lines, the Germans had deployed their armored forces in the first wave of their attack.

"Anti-tank guns! Get them into position, the Germans' tanks are here!" A British officer shouted in terror.

A two-pounder anti-tank gun was hastily moved into position, but it fired only a single round before it was destroyed by a German airstrike.

"My God! With so many tanks, how can we possibly hold them off?" One British soldier, witnessing the tidal wave of armored vehicles approaching, was paralyzed with fear.

"Rat-tat-tat!" The staccato fire of machine guns rang out from the British positions. The advancing German soldiers were temporarily suppressed.

But then, a tank fired its main cannon, obliterating the British machine gun nest and clearing the way for the German infantry.

"Machine gun cover!" shouted a German platoon leader.

Two MG34 machine guns began to fire relentlessly, the hail of bullets preventing the British defenders from even lifting their heads.

Soon after, a dozen grenades were hurled onto the British positions.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The sound of the explosions was deafening, as the British soldiers were blasted apart, their screams lost in the chaos. The German forces, previously held back, seized the moment and surged forward, infiltrating the British lines.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The sharp crack of pistols echoed as the first wave of German soldiers advanced into the British positions, methodically clearing the area. Then, they pushed further, widening their foothold.

More and more German soldiers poured through the breach, flooding the British defenses.

"Quick, the left flank has been breached! Send in the reserves to retake the position!" A British division commander barked.

Over two thousand British soldiers charged toward the exposed position, only to be met with bombs and strafing fire from the sky. As the bombers released their payload, the British soldiers were torn to pieces, their bodies shattered and scattered across the field.

The heavy fire from the aircraft's machine guns made minced meat of many of the British soldiers.

By the time the British forces attempted to mount a counterattack, they had already lost nearly half their men. And as they engaged, they were immediately met with the overwhelming firepower of the Germans.

The German soldiers, using machine guns, mortars, and grenade launchers, delivered a crushing blow, forcing the British to retreat in disarray, leaving behind a battlefield littered with corpses.

When the treads of the German tanks rolled over the British positions, it was the final nail in the coffin. The British defenses crumbled completely. Exhausted and demoralized, the surviving British soldiers began retreating without waiting for orders. To escape faster, they discarded their rifles, wishing they had been born with more legs to outrun the advancing enemy.

By midday, the German 8th Army Corps had broken through the British lines at Epsom in just half a day. The battered British forces retreated to the city, now reduced to rubble, to make a last stand.

But in the face of the crushing might of the German war machine, could the British hope to hold their ground? Clearly, that was an impossibility.

That afternoon, the German 8th Army Corps entered the ruins of Epsom, systematically eliminating the remaining British forces.

Not only was the 8th Army Corps' attack progressing smoothly, but the other three German corps also experienced similar success. Despite the British resistance—fierce and steadfast as it was—the disparity in strength between the two sides was so vast that the British were all but crushed under the weight of the German assault. Given the overwhelming superiority of the Germans, it was simply unrealistic to expect the British to hold their ground against such a force.

On September 14th, the four German corps deployed along the southern front all achieved victory. The British 12th and 13th Armies, positioned there, were crushed and could only retreat into the city to survive, barely clinging to life.