Chapter 710 – The Supremacy of the Bombers
Truc.
French soldiers who hadn't yet entered the battlefield stood staring blankly at the forest in flames.
They had believed Charles could lead them to victory—what they hadn't imagined was this kind of victory.
Even less had they expected the enemy to be defeated so completely.
Many had prepared themselves to die.
After all, they'd heard who the enemy was: the German First Panzer Division.
"They're Germany's only tank division," the soldiers whispered among themselves.
"They handpicked their bravest, most experienced veterans to build this unit."
"Not long after we formed our own tank corps, the Germans built theirs."
"Yes, they've been studying us—training to counter us. They're probably the enemy who understands us best."
…
But none of that came to pass.
Charles had only sent a single armored battalion—32 tanks—into the fight.
Most thought the battalion was a decoy, a sacrifice to draw out the enemy.
They looked on with mournful eyes, convinced few would return alive.
And then…
A single fire changed everything.
Planes flew overhead, dropped their payload, and flames shot up into the forest—
In moments, all the enemy's tactical advantages turned to ash.
The soldiers gasped:
"What was that? Did our planes hit their fuel depot?"
"No—who would be dumb enough to store gasoline that close to the front? That was one of ours—one of our bombs caused that fire!"
"Yes! That must be one of Charles's inventions! He turned their tanks into a sea of fire!"
…
All eyes turned toward the command vehicle where Charles stood.
Their gazes were filled with admiration—and gratitude.
Some began clapping. Others shouted:
"Brilliant command, General! A beautiful victory!"
"We never imagined it would be this easy!"
…
Charles gave them a faint smile and nodded in acknowledgment.
But the truth was: this victory hadn't been easy.
The soldiers didn't realize it, but if Charles hadn't sensed something wrong, the First Armored Division might now be locked in a brutal and costly battle.
Major General Browning stared at the inferno.
He had been the one prepared for this. Charles had warned him: "We'll ignite the forest with incendiary bombs."
Still, he hadn't believed those bombs could do much to armored vehicles—not quickly, anyway.
He'd assumed the German tanks would simply drive through before the flames spread.
Clearly, he'd been wrong.
The fire was instantaneous.
There was no "burn-up time."
The German tanks had no time to react.
It took him a while to process this.
Finally, he took a deep breath and turned toward Charles.
"General," he said cautiously, "the enemy might be retreating. Should we press the advantage and pursue?"
"No, General," Charles replied without hesitation.
"Do you really think the Germans came unprepared?"
"What?" Browning blinked.
The forest was ablaze—how could they still be prepared? Even if they had been, that preparation had surely burned away.
And then the air filled with the whistle of incoming shells.
A storm of artillery exploded across the open field.
Browning understood immediately.
The Germans had pre-positioned artillery to cover this exact ground.
If they had rushed forward after the fire, they would now be shredded by shrapnel.
…
This barrage had been ordered by Erwin himself.
But its purpose had changed.
Earlier, it had been intended to decimate Charles's forces as they passed through the open terrain.
Now, it served as cover—allowing what was left of the First Panzer Division to retreat.
His forces had been devastated.
The incendiary bombs clung like glue to metal and flesh—flames couldn't be shaken off.
Some soldiers tried to save their comrades, tearing off clothing to smother the fire—but the more they beat at the flames, the worse they grew. Many caught fire themselves and perished alongside those they tried to save.
Others tried to use tree branches or throw dirt—but the flames clung to the dirt too, spreading faster.
Many soldiers ran screaming in pain, rolling on the ground in desperation.
Those who grabbed onto objects in panic ended up clutching others—dooming both in the process.
…
Even Erwin had been burned.
His adjutant caught fire right in front of him.
Erwin rushed to help, joined by two guards, but in the process, both he and one of the guards caught fire too.
The guard's hand looked like a charred stick, hissing with steam.
Erwin survived only by stripping off his uniform in time—but his arm still throbbed with pain from the burns.
Standing in the inferno, Erwin suddenly felt a deep chill in his heart.
Is this fire from hell?
I've never seen anything like it—not even heard of anything like it.
Are we all going to die here today?
Then he saw it.
The radio had survived.
"Order the artillery!" he shouted hoarsely. "Fire at will! As long as possible!"
"Yes, General!" the radio operator answered and relayed the command.
At the same time, Erwin issued a retreat order.
Abandon the tanks—they couldn't move through the flaming forest.
Survivors were to flee east through the woods.
If they could reach the Meuse two miles away, they'd be safe.
Charles's tanks couldn't follow them there.
…
German shells rained down on the open fields.
Smoke, dust, and fire merged into a vision of hell.
Browning grew concerned.
He stepped up to Charles and reported:
"General, enemy infantry is approaching from the northwest—a full division, ETA half an hour."
This intel had come from a message dropped by a recon plane in a communication capsule.
They had two choices:
Charge through the barrage and risk destruction,
or split off a force to intercept the advancing infantry.
Or… detour again.
Charles pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.
"Wait," he said calmly.
Browning opened his mouth to ask wait for what—when the roar of aircraft engines filled the sky.
A squadron of Caproni bombers descended.
Or rather—two squadrons.
They split and headed for the two known German artillery positions hidden in the forest.
Then came the bombs—more incendiaries.
As before, fire tore through the trees.
Shells began cooking off.
Explosions shook the earth.
Browning understood.
Charles had it all planned.
The bombers had been circling in nearby airspace.
They waited until the Germans opened fire—revealing their position.
Then they struck—and set the forest ablaze once more.
Soon, the enemy artillery fell silent.
All that remained on the field was smoke, heat, and scorched earth.
But none of it would stop the First Armored Division.
Nothing could.
(End of Chapter 710)
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