Chapter 423: The Molotov Cocktail
The battle began as a one-sided slaughter.
The German soldiers held not weapons but entrenching tools, their rifles stacked in piles with their barrels pointing upward beneath the torches.
When gunfire erupted, the German soldiers immediately dropped their tools and rushed toward the rifles. However, bullets whistled through the air, cutting them down into pools of blood before they could reach them.
The Germans couldn’t even extinguish the torches because grenades had already been thrown into the trenches. At the same time, the French 75mm artillery opened fire, shells landing accurately into the trenches and raising a belt of smoke.
Nearby torches were blasted away by the intense shelling. Only a few remained, crackling wildly in the night wind and illuminating the disarray and retreat of the panicked Germans.
The French gave them no chance to flee. Soon, the bombardment extended, hurling groups of German soldiers into the air before slamming them back down heavily.
It was only after this that the tanks began to rumble forward from the darkness, each one followed by a squad of French infantry. Advancing step by step, the soldiers fired their rifles, picking off the surviving Germans one by one.
Night combat proved even more brutal than daytime skirmishes, especially after Charles issued a chilling order: take no prisoners.
Tigani was taken aback by this and hesitated. “I thought you wouldn’t resort to this,” he said.
To Tigani, Charles had always been a beacon of righteousness and kindness, even bearing traces of youthful innocence. “Take no prisoners” was not something he ever imagined Charles would say.
Yet Charles spoke with unexpected firmness:
“We are a breakthrough unit, General.”
“More importantly, in night combat, the chaos and uncertainty could lead to disastrous losses for our mechanized units.”
“This is a matter of life and death. We have no other choice!”
Tigani fell silent for a moment.
He understood Charles’ reasoning. In the low visibility of night, soldiers could only discern vague silhouettes. They couldn’t distinguish whether an enemy figure was raising a weapon to fire or raising hands to surrender.
Any hesitation that allowed enemies to infiltrate the French ranks would be fatal.
“I agree,” Tigani finally replied, though with difficulty.
Compared to the German use of poison gas on the battlefield, what was a no-prisoner policy? Tigani used this reasoning to convince himself.
...
Tank treads rolled over German corpses, pushing forward relentlessly. The air reeked of blood and gunpowder.
In the flickering red glow of the torches, shredded cloth hung from the treads, faintly visible. It seemed to drip blood, and clumps of unidentifiable matter—perhaps flesh, perhaps dirt—fell from it as the tank advanced.
Because the Germans hadn’t widened their trenches in time, the "Charles A1" tanks easily crossed them, pressing onward.
French soldiers extinguished the remaining torches one by one. The torches, which might have illuminated the tanks and turned them into artillery targets, had become liabilities.
The world plunged into darkness once more, punctuated only by the flashes of explosions ahead, like lightning before an approaching storm.
The German fortress remained silent.
They couldn’t fire. Previously, they had managed to glimpse the French tanks faintly by torchlight. But the tanks were advancing through the midst of fleeing German soldiers, packed closely together. The tanks were practically rolling over them.
If they opened fire now, even if their aim was true, they would inevitably hit their own men.
Their moment of hesitation was enough for the remaining torches to be extinguished, leaving the fortress gunners staring helplessly into the endless darkness through their observation slits.
...
After Major General Marcus fell at the front lines, Staff Officer Rolf immediately assumed command of the defense.
From the moment the fighting started, Rolf knew the first defensive line was untenable. Without hesitation, he ordered it abandoned and withdrew with his troops to the second line.
This line was the final barrier to the outer fortress. Just 100 meters behind it lay the fortress’ defensive perimeter. If it fell, the outer fortress would be rendered completely ineffective.
“Hold your ground!” Rolf shouted over the sound of gunfire. “The enemy tanks can’t see us. They don’t know where to shoot. We can stop them!”
Rolf believed that the enemy tanks, pushed onto the battlefield at night, were primarily meant to shield advancing infantry from bullets and to intimidate and demoralize defenders.
“We mustn’t fall for it,” Rolf told himself. “They can’t fight effectively at night; they’re paper tigers!”
However...
A faint arc of fire suddenly streaked through the darkness, landing in the trench. After the sharp sound of glass breaking, a fierce blaze erupted.
Two German soldiers caught fire. Flailing their arms and shouting, they rolled and leapt, trying to extinguish the flames. Other soldiers rushed to help but were caught in the spreading fire. One was tightly embraced by a “man on fire” and burned alive, screaming and unable to break free.
“What was that?” Rolf gasped in horror.
But it was only the beginning. Before the Germans could react, more streaks of fire rolled into the trench, igniting flames everywhere.
The trench became a hellish fissure, filled with death, agony, and despair.
Meanwhile, the tanks opened fire with their machine guns and cannons, accurately targeting the German trench parapets and sandbags. Germans taking cover behind them were mercilessly gunned down.
Only now did Rolf realize how gravely he had underestimated Charles. He had found a way to make tanks effective in night combat. Though this capability was limited, it was sufficient to deal with a purely trench-based defense system.
...
This was the “trump card” Charles used to convince Colonel Estigny.
Colonel Estigny, well-versed in the capabilities of the "Charles A1," continued to express his concerns in the command center:
“General, I still urge you to reconsider night combat.”
“The ‘Charles A1’ is a light tank, only five meters long, including its rear support frame.”
“The enemy trenches are about two meters wide. We must be certain of their orientation.”
“Otherwise, combat aside, even navigating terrain like that would be life-threatening. The enemy wouldn’t even need to destroy the tanks—they’d destroy themselves!”
Charles understood Colonel Estigny’s point.
The "Charles A1" could only cross trenches by approaching them at a perfect 90-degree angle. Any deviation, no matter how slight, could cause a tank to fall into the trench, leaving the crew either dead or incapacitated.
(Note: Renault tanks, with a width of 1.75 meters, could easily fall into two-meter-wide trenches.)
This was manageable during the day but nearly impossible to avoid in pitch darkness, especially since trenches were not straight but zigzagged irregularly, with dense networks of communication trenches.
“We can mitigate this risk through infantry coordination,” Charles replied.
“No, General,” Estigny shook his head. “Tank crews inside their roaring engines can’t hear infantry commands.”
“I wasn’t talking about verbal commands,” Charles interrupted. “We can use Molotov cocktails.”
“Molotov cocktails?” Estigny was startled. “What are Molotov cocktails?”