When the first ray of sunshine in the morning penetrated the last darkness before dawn and covered the wet grassland with rain and dew, Michel Wittmann, who had just woken up from a night's nap, immediately rolled over from his camp bed.
After getting dressed a little and putting on his military cap, he immediately grabbed the black leather gloves on the bed and prepared to run out of the tent.
"Hey... Klink, wake up. The sun is shining on your butt. Do you want General Dietrich to wake you up in person?"
As if his eyes were stuck with strong adhesive, he forcibly raised his eyelids during the struggle. Gunner Klink, who was exhausted and sleepy after the whole day's battle yesterday, was obviously still alive.
I couldn't completely break the seal in my sleep.
"Heh heh heh heh..."
He stretched out his hand and let out a big yawn, taking off the coat covering himself. He half-uprighted from the camp bed and sat on the edge of the bed. He blinked his sleepy eyes and was confused about the current situation. His throat was dry and thirsty.
Klink, whose voice was somewhat hoarse, then weakly asked Wittmann, who was checking his pistol.
"What time is it, Michelle."
After hearing the question from Klink, he rolled up his sleeves and glanced at the time on his watch. Wittmann, who also felt a little thirsty after waking up at night, grabbed a tent beside him.
After taking a sip from the hanging kettle, he spoke to Klink who was already taking care of his military uniform.
"It's five-fifteen now. It's time for us to go on stage and sing a good show today, Klink! So you'd better not let me off the hook today, understand? Hurry up!"
After finishing his words, he listened to the figure of Wittmann walking out of the tent quickly and leaving. Klink, who was familiar with Wittmann's character and hardly took these cruel words seriously, didn't care at all.
Take it to your heart.
"Yes, you said the same thing the last time I fought against Ivan's border guards. As a result, the whole day's fighting was no different from marching in the streets. Only a fool would believe you."
Although there were some interruptions in the busy schedule, Michel Wittmann's No. 3A assault gun crew, which had woken up from his sleep one after another, still followed Wittmann's orders and rushed to the scene in the shortest possible time.
After everyone finished getting ready, they quickly ran to their own car and began to perform their duties and get busy.
At the same time, not far from the No. 3A assault gun belonging to the SS Guardsmen Division, Wittmann, who was already full of energy with his arms crossed, was talking to the commander of his assault gun battalion.
Exchanging final opinions before the war begins.
"Listen, Michelle. According to the offensive plan and deployment I just went to the division headquarters for a meeting, our battalion will not leave any one behind in today's attack. The task is to provide tanks and infantry with
Provide close artillery support and focus mainly on attacking the Ivans' fortifications and anti-tank artillery."
"When the attack starts later, Michel, you are responsible for commanding your platoon to follow the armored company commanded by Lieutenant Heizenauer in the attack. There will be two additional companies of infantry to support you. Specific mission objectives and attack direction
Lieutenant Heizenauer will be in charge of the field, and you will be temporarily under his command under his control."
After hearing the order from the battalion commander, Wittmann crossed his arms and shrugged, looking very calm.
"In that case, what are Ivan's tanks going to do? Our division's No. 3 and No. 4 tanks are not capable of dealing with those T34s and KVs. Could it be that the people above thought that Ivan's tanks would break down on the spot or take the initiative to attack them?
Do we surrender?"
The battalion commander, who was well aware of Michelle's disrespect for the superior officers, did not take it too seriously, and then changed the subject and continued to speak to Wittmann in front of him.
"Soviet tanks... forget it, the more I think about this, the more headaches I get. Who knows how those Ivans who only drink vodka all day can build such a tank with such excellent performance."
"When I went to a meeting, someone once asked the same question at the meeting, and the answer I got from General Dietrich was, "The Air Force will take care of most of the Soviet tanks for us, and the armored forces only need
Just do your best according to the plan."
"I think you know better than me what to do, Michel. If you kill this Soviet army group, our Southern Army Group's road to Kiev will be clear! This is what the head of state gave us as the Guards Division.
Glorious mission and glory!”
With increasingly firm and passionate words, he stretched out his right arm and patted Michelle's shoulder. After finishing his words, the commander of the assault gun battalion immediately took a step back and raised his right arm to an upward angle of 45 degrees and pointed straight at it.
Sky.
"Hi, Hitler!"
As if he were eating and sleeping, he raised his right hand as naturally and sincerely as he did. Wittmann immediately gave a loud reply with the same tone as the commander of the assault gun battalion in front of him, and even more passionately.
"Hi, Hitler!"
Looking at the back of the commander of the assault artillery battalion who was striding away after completing the combat mission, Wittmann put his hands on his hips and smashed his own mouth, feeling a little inexplicable pain, and couldn't help but let out a long lament.
"I was singing the Armored March in my mouth, but in my heart I was thinking that Marshal Göring's support would be in place in time. If I had known this, I might as well have listened to Dallas and flew those big birds."
But reality is reality, and complaints are complaints.
As a loyal SS soldier with the Führer as his ultimate belief, Wittmann, who has never doubted that the direction of the Führer's sword is where justice lies, also understands exactly where he should go now.
Do something.
After sorting the military cap in his hand for a while, he put it back on his head and put it on again. Wittmann returned to his car and then asked a few of his crew members who were still busy.
.
"How's it going, guys, are our tanks in good condition?"
Dangdang——
After hearing the question from Wittmann, he gently waved the extra-large wrench in his hand, which was used to maintain and disassemble the assault gun's road wheel, and slapped it on the armor plate of the car body, making an unusually clear sound. He was quite confident and confident.
The driver Koldenhoff, who was extremely proud of the job he was responsible for, responded with a hearty smile and answered.
"Every inch of track and every road wheel has been carefully polished like a work of art, Michelle. Now even if you want to drive it to a racing competition, it's no problem. Of course, I can't guarantee you that you can get it."