Chapter 482: The Enemy Changed Their Tactics!
The order from Crown Prince Wilhelm was soon transmitted to the front lines, and the morale of the front-line troops instantly surged.
Colonel Vittod, the commander of the 51st Infantry Regiment, who had been tasked with the main offensive, excitedly high-fived his staff officers in celebration. Then, he shouted to the soldiers in the trenches, "Gentlemen, it’s time to end this battle! Taking Verdun means that we will have survived successfully! Do you understand?"
The soldiers responded enthusiastically, "Understood, Colonel!"
They indeed understood that victory in this battle meant a break from the war.
Then came the rewards for their achievements; perhaps they would be sent to the rear for rest and recovery for a while.
No one wanted to stay on this bloody, death-filled, and stench-ridden battlefield any longer than necessary—even if it were just for a moment.
Delicious food, comfortable surroundings, and women… all of these were calling out to them.
If they just managed to finish this fight, all the good things would no longer be a distant dream!
Colonel Vittod pulled out his pocket watch and, under the faint starlight, stared at the second hand ticking on the dial.
Finally, the time reached 9:30.
The world, once quiet, suddenly erupted in noise. The long-silent cannons roared again, and shells ripped through the sky, crashing into the French fortifications and works.
In the darkness, the artillery barrage appeared to be random, but Colonel Vittod knew it had been carefully coordinated:
The heavy artillery focused on bombarding the fortifications;
Medium and small-caliber howitzers targeted the trenches and enemy artillery positions;
Mortars with curved trajectories targeted hidden positions behind the fortifications.
All of these artillery pieces had been calibrated and even test-fired during the day, all in preparation for a more effective night assault.
Of course, some of the shells contained poison gas, intended to force the French soldiers into a panic, compelling them to fight with gas masks on.
The artillery fire raged for more than half an hour, and the air was thick with acrid smoke, while the dust kicked up by the explosions covered the already dim starlight, plunging the world back into darkness.
Colonel Vittod thought this was a good thing.
If they couldn’t see clearly, then the enemy soldiers wearing gas masks would be just as blind.
Seeing the time was right, Colonel Vittod blew his whistle. The soldiers climbed out of the trenches, crouched low, and began advancing toward the high ground where the Souville Fortress was located.
The cannon fire still rang out intermittently, guiding the advancing German troops to prevent them from getting lost in the dark.
This was also part of a feint: as long as there were shells exploding on the battlefield, the French soldiers wouldn’t dare remove their gas masks.
Those fools, Colonel Vittod thought to himself with some satisfaction. By the time they realized they had been tricked, it would already be too late. The bayonets would have already pierced their chests!
But what could they do?
If they dared to take off their gas masks, the artillery might indeed fire a few gas shells at them.
Colonel Vittod began to feel some sympathy for the French soldiers. They had no other option but to be defeated.
What surprised Colonel Vittod was that this attack was easier than any before. The troops had already reached the summit but had not encountered any resistance.
They must have retreated, Colonel Vittod thought with some anxiety.
This was not good. If they managed to escape back to Verdun for close-quarter fighting, it would be troublesome.
With this thought, Colonel Vittod waved his Luger pistol and shouted, "Speed up, don’t let them get away!"
The soldiers responded and, with bayonets fixed, charged up the mountain at full speed.
Still, no one was there—not even the trenches were occupied; they were completely left to the Germans.
The German soldiers cheered, not expecting to break through the French final line so easily. This almost meant the collapse of the French forces. All that remained was to follow and chase them down for victory.
"Keep moving!" Colonel Vittod felt that something was wrong. Things shouldn’t be this way.
The soldiers, following orders, crossed over the mountain position, and some even circled around the Souville Fortress, seemingly searching for its entrance.
Suddenly, gunfire rang out. Dozens of German soldiers in the front fell to the ground, while the others scrambled to the ground, scared.
Before they could react, grenades, trailing green smoke, rolled down and exploded with deafening blasts.
"They're below us!" the soldiers shouted in panic, their voices trembling with fear. They didn’t like this unexpected development.
Without hesitation, Colonel Vittod replied, "Those are just stragglers. Eliminate them..."
Before he could finish his sentence, Colonel Vittod realized he was wrong.
The French 75mm cannons fired rapidly at the mountain position, sending the German soldiers who had been crouched on the ground flying through the air.
Colonel Vittod advanced with difficulty through the barrage, and then he saw the flashes of cannon fire at least dozens of them, all positioned at the foot of the mountain, in the blind spots of the German howitzers.
What’s going on?
Colonel Vittod shuddered. Had they changed their tactics?
Impossible! No one would give up the high ground, especially with their fortifications there!
At that moment, several Molotov cocktails were thrown by the Germans into the lower position. Colonel Vittod finally saw through the flames: the French had dug trenches and established a defensive line!
Although Colonel Vittod was quite surprised, he still breathed a sigh of relief.
The distance was only about thirty meters, there were no barbed wire, and the Germans had the high ground. A single charge would easily break through the line and wipe them all out.
Foolish Frenchmen, Colonel Vittod thought without hesitation as he blew his whistle with all his might.
"Peep…"
The whistle cut through the sound of artillery and explosions, reaching the soldiers' ears. The soldiers shouted and scrambled to their feet, charging at the enemy line with their bayonets.
They moved quickly, their ranks tightly packed, like a mass of ants rushing toward the French position.
Just as they were about to breach the trenches, suddenly a deafening series of explosions went off, and small objects zoomed through the air with a "whoosh" sound.
At the same time, German soldiers screamed in agony, their cries echoing through the chaos.
Colonel Vittod looked closely. The soldiers, who had been charging so boldly toward the enemy just moments before, were now lying scattered on the ground. Some were holding their faces, others their heads, and some were writhing on the ground, clawing at themselves in pain.
"What was that?" Colonel Vittod asked, his spine freezing with terror.
Whatever it was, it had knocked down all the soldiers in the charge in an instant—there were at least several hundred of them, and Colonel Vittod hadn’t even seen it properly.
Colonel Vittod refused to believe it. There couldn’t be such a weapon.
He blew his whistle again, leading the remaining soldiers to charge forward…
"Boom boom."
"Boom boom boom."
...
Another explosion.
This time, Colonel Vittod believed it.
At least dozens of small objects had hit him, on his face, body, and legs. Pain surged through him as he lost his ability to fight, but miraculously, they weren’t fatal!