Chapter 227: Struggle to Cross
Inside the church, a passing snow shower had already faded.
Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, casting the crucifix in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Beneath the crucifix, a tactical map was spread across the table. The adjutant handed Manstein a cup of pine needle tea and asked, "Sir, should we allow the entire Army to rest for two days? The high-intensity march has caused some tanks to malfunction, and the soldiers also need a buffer period."
Manstein lowered his head and announced a cruel fact to his adjutant.
"We have no time to rest."
His finger pressed against the map.
"The Air Force will send additional fighter units tomorrow morning to conduct saturation bombing on the south bank of the Meuse River. As soon as the bombing ends, we must cross the river."
After saying that, Manstein glanced at his pocket watch and continued, "There are roughly six hours until nightfall. This will be the final rest period."
"Tonight, order the entire Army to immediately prepare for the crossing. Ready the rubber boats and pontoon bridge materials."
"All repair work will be carried out overnight."
He paused briefly.
"Tell the soldiers not to blame me for being ruthless. Once this offensive is over, I will personally write to the Führer and ensure that we are the first to enter Paris."
After two days of relentless marching and less than six hours of rest, anyone would complain.
But physical exhaustion was suppressed by mental excitement.
Tens of thousands of men across three divisions understood the difficulty of this mission, and they understood even more clearly the enormous honor that came with being assigned such a critical task.
That night, the belated First Armored Division did not stop in Sedan.
They had also gone two days without proper rest. After resupplying some materials and sleeping for only three hours, they began a flanking maneuver against the French forces behind the Maginot Line in Luxembourg.
After completing that mission, they would still have to move at the fastest possible speed to intercept the French right flank.
Since they carried the glory of the First Armored Division, they also had to carry an inhuman burden.
On the south bank of the Meuse River, France had established a combined defensive line consisting of one artillery division and one infantry division.
With the natural barrier of the Meuse River added to it, even after learning that Germany had occupied Sedan, Pétain still believed that the German Army, after rushing through the Ardennes, would need time to regroup.
During this regrouping period, he believed the defenders of the Meuse River could hold out for at least a week.
That time would be enough to integrate the newly landed British Army and retake Sedan.
In Greece, De Gaulle also received the news that Germany had successfully bypassed the Ardennes.
He measured the distance across the Ardennes Mountains and shook his head.
"Their willpower is truly astonishing."
His voice carried a trace of admiration that he could not suppress.
"Only those rigid Germans could achieve such almost impossible speed."
All of Europe focused its attention on Sedan.
At noon the next day, Lucas, who had stayed beside Ken for the entire night, looked no different from usual.
But the gunfire, corpses, and bombing from the previous day continued replaying in his mind like a film that refused to end.
Whoosh!
The piercing roar of bombers returned like a shadow.
Lucas thought he was hallucinating.
He looked around.
When he saw everyone else falling into panic, he realized that the nightmare had returned.
He raised his head.
Dozens of bombers flew in formation, blotting out the sky.
Shells blasted trees apart along the riverbank, softened the frozen earth, and sent wave after wave of deadly heat through this exceptionally cold winter.
"First Bomber Squadron returning to base!"
This was undoubtedly the largest bombing operation Germany had organized against the river area.
In the pilots' headsets, the command center's broadcast had changed from its initial excitement to hoarse exhaustion.
For this operation, the feint attack against the Maginot Line had been suspended, and nearly four hundred bombers were placed on standby.
Lucas heard explosions everywhere.
His eardrums were numbed by thunder.
Everywhere he looked, people were dying by the minute.
Every time the bomber formation swept overhead, terror surged through him like cold water.
Later, that terror turned into frantic anxiety.
More than death itself, Lucas feared being tormented by the fear of death every single minute.
He saw some soldiers unable to withstand the mental pressure hiding in trenches and committing suicide.
Even the junior officers were exhausted by the hours-long bombardment.
To stabilize the line, Lieutenant General Faradar, who was in command, wanted the surviving soldiers to understand what they were fighting for. He wanted them to grip their rifles and endure nearly six hours of aerial bombardment.
But he misjudged the complexity of internal conflicts.
More critically, he misjudged the hidden danger created by the wartime practice of shaming women into pushing men to enlist.
Only a small portion of the letters sent to the front were encouraging.
The vast majority were insults.
There were breakup letters from fiancées.
There were even girlfriends who, fearing their wounded lovers might return missing limbs, sent farewell letters in advance.
Morale collapsed almost instantly.
That afternoon, in the medical room, Lucas's numb face already showed that he had become part of the war.
A veteran in the true sense.
Indifferent to life and death.
But when he looked at the letter in his hand, two hot tears still rolled down his cheeks.
Ken seemed to sense Lucas's awakening from numbness.
He patted Lucas on the shoulder, endured the pain, and fiddled with his broken leg, pretending to be optimistic.
"Lucas, look at me."
He forced a grin.
"Don't act like a woman. You are a warrior. Live well. When the war is over, Ralchi and I will help you get justice."
Ralchi, who was smoking a cigarette while oiling his rifle, nodded.
Then he raised his head and glanced outside the trench.
Hundreds of rubber boats were surging across the river, heading directly toward the bank.
The sight made him shout in alarm.
"Enemy attack!"
On the rubber boats, machine gun fire snapped across the water.
Tat tat tat!
Sparse splashes rose from the river surface.
German soldiers desperately paddled forward. Some were hit by bullets and tumbled into the icy water. Others had bullets graze their cheeks or pierce their arms.
Yet they did not retreat.
One man fell, and another soldier took up his oar, pressing forward.
Because they understood what they were fighting for.
They knew that even if they fell here, they would fall in the name of heroes.
"Smoke grenade cover!"
Several soldiers picked up their newly issued weapons and threw them with all their strength.
Smoke soon enveloped the riverbank.
The remaining French soldiers, thinking it was poison gas, had the last thread of their nerves snapped.
Seeing that many boats had already landed, Lucas understood that resistance was futile.
He placed down his empty FM 24 light machine gun, sighed, and raised his hands, accepting his fate.
On the other side, watching the pontoon bridge being assembled across the river, Manstein let out a long breath.
But his expression remained grave.
"Have the First and Second Anti-Aircraft Artillery Regiments arrived?"
"They have, sir. They are setting up an anti-aircraft network along both banks of the river."
The adjutant's voice was firm.
"The Air Force has given us the highest assurance. As long as the German Air Force exists, control of the Meuse River's airspace will remain ours."
Manstein nodded several times, trying to ease the intense tension he had been suppressing.
"Excellent."
His gaze turned south.
"The entire Army will cross the river."
.....
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