Chapter 483: What Will the Rear Fortress Be Used For?
The 5th German Army was an elite force, with the 51st Infantry Regiment assigned as the main assault unit. This regiment was one of the finest, mostly composed of seasoned veterans who had fought through countless battles, along with many who had returned to duty after recovering from injuries.
Both their combat quality and fighting spirit were top-notch.
However, in the face of this bizarre situation—seeing so many of their comrades fall—their legs went weak, and they were soon fleeing in panic, scrambling away with all their might.
In fact, it wasn’t just the German soldiers who were frightened. Even the French soldiers, stationed at the front lines, were terrified.
What lay before them wasn’t a sea of corpses—these Germans were alive, at least most of them were.
Some had half their faces blown off, some had their eyeballs exploded and were hanging from their faces, and some, despite having no visible injuries, were trembling with their hands shaking, unsure whether to scratch their wounds…
The air was filled with screams of agony, cries of pain, and curses. Everyone was rolling around in front of the French soldiers, like a horde of vengeful ghosts, or like a swarm of crawling worms.
Suddenly, the sound of a grenade explosion echoed. It was one of the Germans unable to bear the pain and pulling the pin to end his own suffering.
This seemed to inspire others, and soon, grenade explosions could be heard one after another.
Some surviving Germans tried to capture the trench on the hilltop and confront the French forces. But soon, the terrifying, familiar sounds of explosions filled the trench again, followed by screams of pain.
Of course, the French soldiers would not leave the trench intact for the Germans. The trench had already been rigged with directional mines.
The French soldiers waited for a while in the trench, and when the Germans had exhausted themselves, they finally emerged, using bayonets to harvest lives—or, as some might say, to end the Germans’ suffering.
...
Crown Prince Wilhelm had remained in the command center of the 7th Army. He intended to enjoy the assault he was commanding, to revel in the victory—the complete victory.
Listening to the cannon fire from outside, Crown Prince Wilhelm slowly moved his electric light across the map, locking onto the city of Verdun.
“I hope we can capture it before dawn,” the Crown Prince said. “After dawn, street fighting will become even more dangerous, and by then, they will likely be fully prepared.”
Major General Bennett thought to himself that street fighting at night was even more dangerous because the enemy was familiar with the terrain, and they could navigate the streets of Verdun with their eyes closed, while we are not so lucky.
But Major General Bennett said nothing. He smiled confidently and responded, “Don’t worry, Your Highness. Soon, we’ll be strolling through the streets of Verdun, though they might only be ruins.”
Crown Prince Wilhelm laughed heartily, “That’s the most beautiful sight, General! I can’t wait to see it!”
However, a signalman, who had been sitting by the telephone, suddenly turned and looked at Major General Bennett. “Sir, the 23rd Infantry Regiment has been repelled, and our forces have suffered heavy casualties.”
“What?” Major General Bennett’s smile froze. He gritted his teeth and cursed, “Elias, that bastard, get him here now!”
“Yes, Sir.”
Major General Bennett thought this was an “accident” from one of the units.
But just seconds later, more bad news arrived:
“The 51st Infantry Regiment has suffered over half casualties, Colonel Vittore is dead, requesting reinforcements.”
“The 77th Infantry Regiment has been routed, Colonel Braden is injured, requesting retreat!”
...
Major General Bennett was stunned. These were the vanguard units he had sent out—the cream of the crop. In just a few minutes, they were either routed or had suffered heavy casualties.
Crown Prince Wilhelm furrowed his brow. “Do the enemy have reinforcements?”
“No, Your Highness,” Major General Bennett shook his head. “We’ve been using artillery to block their roads, even if they have reinforcements, it will be small scale and won’t make much difference.”
“Then, what is it…”
At that moment, a wounded soldier was carried into the works, screaming in agony. It was Colonel Elias of the 23rd Infantry Regiment.
Crown Prince Wilhelm quickly shone the electric light on him and nearly jumped back in shock. Colonel Elias’s face was torn, two chunks of flesh had been ripped off, and his body was covered in blood—he looked like a zombie.
“What happened?” Major General Bennett asked, moving forward.
“It… it’s the bomb,” Colonel Elias’s voice trembled from pain. He gasped for air as he spoke. “I’m not sure… but there were many shrapnels!”
A military doctor arrived quickly. With skillful hands, he cut open Colonel Elias’s uniform with a surgical knife. What they saw made everyone shudder with a chill: Colonel Elias’s body was covered in tiny blood spots. Though each spot was small, his body had become like a honeycomb, and even the “seasoned” doctor couldn’t help but feel a chill down his spine.
After a moment of hesitation, the doctor used the surgical knife to cut open one of the blood spots, then carefully inserted a pair of tweezers into the wound. Amidst Colonel Elias’s painful cries, he extracted a “fragment.”
The sharp “clink” sound echoed as the “fragment” was placed on the tray.
Then another…
And soon, everyone understood. It wasn’t shrapnel—it was steel balls, small steel balls about 3mm in diameter.
The doctor, who had some experience, reported to Major General Bennett and Crown Prince Wilhelm, “They must have filled the bombs with steel balls as shrapnel, which explains the terrifying lethality.”
Major General Bennett looked at the still-pained Colonel Elias, then turned his gaze to the doctor for further clarification.
The doctor understood and shook his head helplessly.
There was no way to remove all the steel balls from so many wounds. Inevitably, some would be left inside. Even if they were all removed, the wounds would eventually become infected, and he would die. His survival was merely a matter of enduring the pain for this brief period.
Crown Prince Wilhelm narrowed his eyes. “New equipment? Could it be… Charles?”
The faces in the command center immediately changed.
...
Charles and Major General Lacoste had already moved their command center to the Saint-Michel Fortress.
This was the closest fortress to the city of Verdun.
In truth, it had no defensive value because the French had no lines of defense here. The artillery had already been moved to the front-line fortresses for combat, and even the machine guns and ammunition had been moved to the front.
A series of telephone calls came into the command center, each one reporting good news: “The 32nd Regiment has routed the enemy. Only five casualties.”
“The 81st Regiment repelled the enemy’s attack. Thirteen casualties.”
“The 19th Regiment…”
Major General Lacoste smiled widely. He looked at Charles with satisfaction and sighed, “You were right, Colonel. The lethality of the directional mines far exceeds our expectations. Although we haven’t had time to count yet, I estimate that the enemy’s casualties are many times greater than ours!”
Charles, however, was not concerned with that at all.
Directional mines were highly advanced weapons, but in a war where the enemy still used dense formations in charges, their lethality was certainly immense.
His eyes remained fixed on the map, particularly on the Douaumont Fortress. With a thoughtful look, he asked Major General Lacoste, “General, if the enemy is attacking our defensive line and suffering numerous casualties, what will they use their rear fortress for?”
Major General Lacoste was stunned and answered, “Their wounded have nowhere to be housed, so the fortress will likely be converted into a field hospital.”