I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France Chapter 152

Shire’s troops were divided into two groups, each with about a thousand men, commanded by Estiny and Brownie respectively.

They did indeed set off from Shire’s tractor factory, with tanks, sidecars, troops, and ammunition all loaded onto a train bound for Paris.

But there was one thing the spies hadn’t counted on: train carriages are easy to switch.

The train entered the Paris Railway Station, and the carriages were secretly split into two sections within the station, each then attached to different locomotives.

One train headed straight north to Andrush, while the other went south to Tamon.

The so-called "train carrying Sherman tanks and troops" followed far behind, filled with cans and bread destined for the front lines.

The landslide was artificially created to make everyone, including Xia Fei’s command headquarters, believe the troops couldn’t arrive on time, rendering them unable to interfere.

All eyes were fixed on the train blocked by the landslide, while no one realized Shire’s troops had already reached their destination and were orderly joining the battlefield.

Estiny was responsible for the attack on Andrush.

He hurried to the battlefield on a sidecar, raised his binoculars, and looked towards the enemy. The enemy was completely unprepared on the front line, which was only defended by some insignificant barbed wire and wooden fences, with no visible personnel—Estiny guessed the enemy was hiding in the trenches from the rain.

A raincoat-clad infantry colonel rushed over to Estiny, sized him up, and seeing his full artillery colonel’s uniform, asked in a puzzled tone, "Colonel, which unit are you from?"

Seemingly unaware of any artillery reinforcements!

Colonel Estiny said nothing; he just stood there silently, waiting for a moment.

The telephone in the sentry box rang, and the guard shouted out, "Colonel, your call, it’s from the Paris City Defense Command!"

The infantry colonel was even more perplexed. What did this have to do with the Paris City Defense Command?

He entered the sentry post with his doubts and picked up the phone. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at Estiny outside.

When he came out, the infantry colonel seemed like a changed man, so nervous that he could hardly speak:

"Are you... Shire’s troops?"

"Attacking from here? I mean... I’m Colonel Klopp. I’m pleased to meet you!"

Estiny courteously shook hands with him and informed him of his name.

"Colonel Estiny!" Colonel Klopp straightened his chest. "What are your orders? I mean, how should we cooperate with you?"

"You just need to watch, Colonel Klopp!" Estiny responded coldly, "Do nothing, you must only watch, remember that!"

Colonel Klopp felt somewhat embarrassed—he sensed this was an insult!

However, Colonel Klopp soon understood that this unit indeed had the right to insult them.

Estiny wasn’t being arrogant; he knew that joint operations are unsuitable for untrained troops, as they only create chaos.

One tank after another rolled up, their engines roaring in the rain as they formed an attack formation.

There weren’t many tanks, just 36 in total, organized into a tank battalion.

Two tank companies were deployed on the left and right, with one company at the rear as a reserve, ready to support at any time.

Estiny did not hesitate. As soon as preparations were complete, he ordered the attack.

Striking a foe unaware requires swift action; each wasted minute gives the enemy another minute to prepare.

Tanks advanced through the mud with infantry following closely, tracks clattering and splashing mud.

The ground was riddled with craters of various sizes, a nightmare for CA-1 and Saint Chammon tanks but inconsequential for the fully encased tracks of Mark 1 tanks.

Each tank effortlessly crossed over, the impact causing a slight tilt and a wave of mud to splash onto the faces of soldiers trailing behind like a crashing wave.

The tanks rolled over decayed, foul-smelling corpses left on the battlefield, bursting out dark green and red-black fluids, suffusing the air with a suffocating stench.

The soldiers’ stomachs churned violently from the odor.

Yet they knew this was a matter of life and death, requiring utmost caution and disregard for external influences.

Even with utmost reluctance, they could only step into the filth swarming with flies and maggots to maintain formation.

Perhaps due to the sound and veil of rain, the enemy still hadn’t noticed a tank unit approaching.

The soldiers kept their eyes fixed ahead, gripping their rifles so tightly that their hands turned white, breathing increasingly rapid.

The battle was imminent...

Three hundred meters.

German soldiers finally heard the noise. A few men peered out from the trenches towards them, some holding binoculars.

Estiny made a swift decision, quietly commanding, "Fire!"

The soldiers promptly raised their rifles and fired, covering the peering Germans with bullets from several directions, spurting red in the rain and falling back into the trenches.

The gunfire alerted the German soldiers, who immediately emerged in lines from the trench edges, raising their rifles.

Nonetheless, they were visibly startled by the sudden appearance of tanks, causing a brief pause before resuming gunfire.

Bullets sparked against the tank armor, making crisp "clang" sounds, some exceptionally sharp and lingering, akin to striking a bell.

Estiny recognized these as German K-rounds, unable to penetrate tank frontal armor.

"Speed up!" Estiny shouted.

Infantry signaled flags in front of tank observation ports, prompting the tanks to power up and move at full speed.

Soon after, German shells began arriving—77MM caliber artillery, only a dozen shells, mostly landing behind the tanks, with a few near them.

Estiny gave a sigh of relief—the German 105MM howitzers had been deceived to the Lafox area by Shire, avoiding inevitable losses otherwise.

Seeing a few soldiers hit by stray bullets and falling, Estiny shouted, "Hide behind the tanks, maintain the attack line!"

Now was not the time to expose themselves for shooting—a deadly move under dense enemy fire!

Not until the tanks crushed the wire and closed within thirty meters of the German line did Estiny yell, "Grenades!"

Then he blew his whistle with all his might, ensuring everyone could hear in various directions.

Soldiers swiftly drew grenades from their belts, skillfully ignited them, and threw them towards the enemy line.

Some even sprinted briefly behind the tanks before throwing, performing naturally and smoothly, hurling grenades in perfect arcs over the tanks into the enemy trenches, evidently experienced.

Though the German soldiers didn’t know what was being thrown, they sensed danger and scattered in alarm.

Trenches erupted in uneven smoke amid explosions, and French Soldiers shouted, holding rifles with bayonets, charging over the tanks!

(The image above is the German 77MM artillery, with a range of only 5 kilometers, far shorter than the French 75 cannon’s 8-kilometer range)

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