Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Battle of Tannenberg (4)
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The front lines had collapsed.
The Russian Second Army's breakthrough had ended in failure, and the German Eighth Army's encirclement was complete.
Especially the Russian left wing, which had been utterly shattered by the exploits of a single battalion.
The Eighth Army's victory was now all but assured.
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Russian Second Army headquarters.
At last, the staff officers had packed up all their belongings and begun quietly evacuating the command post.
"Damn it! Goddamn it!"
General Samsonov was no exception. They were fleeing the battlefield on foot, unable to even mount their horses.
It was a truly pathetic and miserable sight, abandoning their 200,000-strong army in enemy territory and saving only their own skins.
"What am I supposed to do now... What will the high command think of me..."
"..."
"..."
Whether lamenting his own dire situation or seeking some comfort, the general muttered to himself, but there was no reply.
The staff officers who might have answered were in much the same wretched state.
And so, these pitiful wretches trudged through the forest when...
Rustle—
"Hm?"
A sound like branches snapping came from the shadows.
Everyone had been lost in thought, but the forest was utterly silent otherwise, making the noise stand out sharply.
As Samsonov and his staff fixed their trembling eyes on the shadows...
"...Argh!!"
Bang!! Unable to bear the mounting tension, the general drew his pistol and fired first.
"Gahhh!!"
"Shit! I'm caught!"
"Fire!"
"Retreat...!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat!! A massive clamor and muzzle flashes erupted from the shadows, blood spraying as chaos unfolded in an instant.
Samsonov watched blood scatter along the bullets' paths, then felt it splatter on his own face. In a panic, he abandoned his staff and bolted.
'Ugh! Ah, I wasn't hit! I wasn't hit!'
Tripping repeatedly over tree roots, Samsonov frantically patted himself down.
No wounds. It must have been blood from the staff around him.
"General!! Where are you, General!!"
"The commander's here, for sure! Find him, now!"
"Fuck!! You Fritz bastards...!"
"Shoot anyone who resists!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat!!!
"Ugh."
Fresh gunfire rang out, and Samsonov clamped his mouth shut, crawling away as fast as he could.
His body shook uncontrollably, caked in dirt, but the general pressed on without stopping.
'How? How did they get here so fast? What unit are they?!'
His mind was a whirlwind of confusion.
This was supposed to be the rear, even if they were encircled.
Yet so many Germans launching a sudden assault—it made no sense.
"Aaaagh!! My leg!! My leg!!!"
"Surrender!! I surren—!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat!!! As the screams and gunfire began to fade into the distance, Samsonov staggered to his feet.
Clutching his pistol so tightly his knuckles whitened, he forced strength into his buckling legs.
'First... first, I have to get out of here.'
Thud! Thud! Thud! As he fled with all his might, his anxiety only grew.
'Please... they haven't surrounded the whole forest, have they...'
"Deployment up to the 4th Company is complete."
"Tighten the search net further."
"Hngh...!"
"Commander Samsonov is definitely here... hm?"
Samsonov belatedly covered his mouth, but the enemy commander clearly turned his gaze toward the shadow where he hid.
Unlike Samsonov, the enemy showed no hesitation.
Bang!! The bullet slammed into the ground right beside him, and Samsonov scrambled up.
"There he is!! Take him alive!!"
"Surrender now!!"
"I can't be caught here...!"
"Damn it! Don't aim for vital organs!!"
As Samsonov fled, the commander hurriedly pushed down his subordinate's barrel.
"Pursue!"
"Fuck! Fuck!!"
"Here!"
He ran again, but this time the shouts didn't fade—they grew louder.
Muzzle flashes blinked in the darkness, bushes and branches shaking all around.
"Hah... huff..."
Exhausted, Samsonov finally slumped against a tree.
Shouts echoed from every direction, giving him a splitting headache. His subordinates seemed all dead; no more gunfire reached him.
The wretched general stared down at the pistol in his hand.
Only a few rounds left, and Samsonov's marksmanship wasn't anything special.
Resisting the Germans was futile. In the worst case, he'd end up their prisoner.
"Missed!"
"He's close! Keep searching relentlessly!"
"The enemy's only lightly armed!"
"..."
As the realization sank in that only one path remained, tears welled in Samsonov's eyes.
Trembling, he raised the gun to his head.
"Hic... hngh..."
'The end? This is the end?'
His heart pounded harder than ever. But his resolve was firm, and the beating would soon stop.
His finger slowly tightened on the trigger.
In that instant, a German burst from the brush, their eyes locking—
"Found him...!"
Bang!!
"Aaagh!!"
Blood sprayed as Samsonov dropped his gun.
The soldier kicked the pistol away and leveled his submachine gun at the general.
"Wh-what...!"
Convinced he was dead, Samsonov widened his eyes and touched his head.
But the pain came from his hand.
His index finger... the second joint was gone, blood pouring freely.
"Got you."
"Battalion Commander, sir."
Suddenly, the outline of a helmet emerged from the shadows directly in front of Samsonov. One step, another. The general's breaths grew shorter.
Even amid the gunfire and screams in the forest, his footsteps remained steady. That calm only tightened the noose around Samsonov's throat.
Smoke curled from the Luger pistol in his hand.
"Are you Commander Alexander Samsonov?"
The German officer, with dark brown hair and blue eyes, now fully visible, asked in fluent Russian.
Click—click—soldiers appearing from all around quietly aimed at Samsonov.
Their elite poise—ready to fire at the slightest twitch—crushed the general's spirit.
"Are you Commander Samsonov?"
"..."
"...Yes."
"Hm."
The officer asked again in a calm tone, and only then did Samsonov reply.
He tried to appear composed, but faced with stark reality, he bowed his head.
"I am Captain Erwin Rommel."
The officer's matter-of-fact introduction rang unmistakably in Samsonov's ears, which had tuned it out at first.
'...Erwin Rommel?'
The young monster leading the ghost battalion. That name was already becoming synonymous with terror among Russian officers.
To General Samsonov, it was a small but unyielding... red piece etched in his memory.
The general looked up again at that tiny red piece.
"If you'll excuse me, you must surrender."
"To think... I'd become the prey..."
No arguments allowed—the polite but firm ultimatum came as soldiers approached, binding Samsonov and hastily staunching his wound.
"...Hahaha..."
It was the moment the commander surrendered before the young conqueror.
The red fox had claimed the heart of the Russian Second Army.
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A while earlier, at Rommel Battalion headquarters.
I stopped by command to prepare for the final hunt.
"Time to gather the battalion into one."
"Is it finally over, sir?"
Commanding only from the front lines had clear limits, so I had to shuttle constantly between headquarters and the battlefield.
I really need to get a proper radio invented soon. This is too damn frustrating.
Every time I came and went, my men kept yelling if it was finally done. Unfortunately, no—not this time either.
Still asking if we'd finished them off? Not yet.
"No. After resupply, our battalion fights the final battle."
"...The final battle?"
My head shake and ominous words made my subordinates tremble.
I grinned and pointed to the map.
"The final target is Willenberg."
My men blinked in bewilderment, then slowly—creak—turned to the operations board.
A chess king piece stood atop the name Willenberg.
"...You're saying we attack the field army headquarters?"
"That's on the opposite side."
"We're just one battalion."
Seeing their eyes filled with all sorts of emotions, I felt truly sorry for them.
"It's the last puzzle piece to cap off our battalion's glorious achievements."
It had to be done anyway. No need to waste energy like this.
"I believe you can pull it off."
And so, we marched toward glory.