Chapter 186: Weapons Testing Ground
In the direction of Salamanca, four tank battalions of the Spanish Forward Army, led by the Sixteenth Tank Battalion of Germany's Eighth Armored Division, tore open a small gap in the first defensive line organized by the Spanish Communist Party.
At a street corner, two Soviet T 27 tanks burned quietly, their thin armor split open and blackened by fire. Beside them, two German combat engineers were working quickly to repair the damaged tracks of a Panzer II.
From farther away came the intermittent rattle of a Panzer I's machine guns, driven by the Spanish Forward Army. Moments later, the dull rumble of tracks approached from another street.
The Panzer II's driver, watching through the periscope, suddenly caught sight of a small dot appearing at the far corner.
His expression changed at once.
He flipped open the hatch and roared at the engineers outside, "Take cover. Quick."
The engineers, who had nearly finished repairing the tracks, immediately abandoned their tools and scrambled into a nearby trench.
A moment later, a sharp detonation split the street.
Boom!
A tungsten core armor piercing shell struck the road in front of the Panzer II, leaving a small crater in the broken pavement.
Inside the tank, the driver cursed through his throat microphone while turning the vehicle hard.
"Damn it. What rotten luck. A Soviet BT 5 here? What the hell is this? Every time a war breaks out, why do new weapons start appearing as if they are being handed out for free?"
He switched channels at once.
"Number Six, can you hear me? Bring your new tank over here. Damn it, our cursed tracks still are not fixed. We are at the center of the crossroads by Building Number Three, approximately two to three hundred meters away."
Of course, Number Six could not hear his shouting directly.
Every word had to be relayed to the radio operator.
Inside a tank without proper sound insulation, with the engine roaring in one's ears and gunfire shaking the streets outside, even the loudest shout would become no louder than a kitten's cry.
The left track groaned beneath the strain, giving off an ugly creaking sound.
The driver forced the Panzer II into a sharp left turn and hid behind a tall building at an angle, exposing only the barrel of its cannon.
Just as it turned away, another shell struck the rubble nearby.
Boom!
Two engineers hidden in the trench were wounded by flying shrapnel.
"Radio back," the driver snarled. "Damn it, radio back."
He peered out again while ordering the gunner to adjust the turret.
As the tank shifted position, the gunner raised the autocannon and fired.
Tat tat tat!
Several tungsten core armor piercing rounds struck the BT 5's drive shaft.
At the same time, taking advantage of the enemy's reload interval, the driver ducked the Panzer II behind the other side of the building, playing a deadly game of cat and mouse with the Soviet tank.
"Number Six received. The Spanish are on their way. Do not worry, Number Three."
The radio operator repeated the message.
That reassurance did nothing to ease the driver's fury. No one enjoyed the sensation of death brushing past his face.
"Are they in a hurry to visit their wives? Damn it."
The radio operator wisely chose not to relay that sentence. He removed his internal headset and simply replied through the communication channel, "Received."
A few seconds later, two Panzer Is driven by the Spanish Forward Army drew the attention of the BT 5, which had been preparing to withdraw.
The Soviet tank was about to calibrate and fire.
Boom!
Crash!
The Panzer II's cannon struck a weak point.
The BT 5 detonated catastrophically, and the force of the explosion flipped the entire vehicle over.
"Bullseye."
The driver of Number Three Tank laughed aloud.
Before he could celebrate with his gunner, a new aircraft appeared in the sky.
"Take cover. Everyone take cover."
Number Three Tank hastily withdrew into the base of the building.
The German Panzer II crew, who had also spotted the I 15 fighter overhead, immediately abandoned the tank and threw themselves into the rubble.
Only a few minutes after they escaped the vehicle, the I 15, carrying RS rockets, executed a classic diagonal dive toward the tank.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Two rockets separated from their launch rails.
The Panzer II, their companion through countless engagements, was instantly reduced to a pile of scrap metal.
Yet the driver did not look especially heartbroken.
He lit a cigarette, stared at the I 15 dominating Madrid's airspace, and muttered, "At least now I can get a new tank. The Air Force should be here soon, right?"
Meanwhile, at an airfield on the outskirts of Salamanca, two Bf 109 fighters were lined up on the runway.
Captain Karl noticed that everyone's gaze kept drifting involuntarily toward the experimental FW 190 fighter parked inside the hangar.
He cleared his throat twice.
"It is not that I refuse to let you fly it," he said. "But you need training. The FW is considerably faster than the Bf 109. If you want to fly it early, there is an opportunity right now."
The pilots immediately looked toward him.
Karl continued, "Soviet fighters have appeared over Madrid. We estimate there are two of them. Whoever shoots them down will get to fly the experimental aircraft."
He glanced toward the hangar.
"At present, it is the fastest aircraft in the world."
The pilots raised their hands eagerly.
Karl selected one experienced pilot and one novice from the formation.
The two climbed excitedly into the fully enclosed cockpits.
Ground crews began inspecting the runway. After confirming clearance, the takeoff gesture was given, and a voice sounded through the headset at nearly the same moment.
"Communication confirmed. Awaiting reply."
"Command Center, this is Fighter Number Nineteen. I am Pilot Zoren Kalm. All equipment checked. Ready for takeoff."
"This is Number Twenty Seven. Hili Josef."
Compared with the novice's standard phrasing, Josef's reply was much more concise.
Moments later, the two Bf 109s roared to life. Their engines thundered across the runway as they taxied forward for several dozen meters before rising into the sky.
When they reached the airspace over Madrid, voices came through the headset again.
"This is Command Center. We have received communication from ground forces. Two Soviet fighters are attacking our units at your two o'clock position. Confirm receipt."
"Received."
Josef lowered his altitude, preparing to search for targets.
Then Kalm's startled cry suddenly burst through the headset.
"I see them. Not at two o'clock. Directly below me. Estimated distance is very close."
"Do not panic, rookie," Josef said at once. "Their aircraft are not fully enclosed. Those old machines look very different from the iron eagle beneath you."
His eyes narrowed.
"I see the other fighter. He has spotted you. He is climbing, trying to get behind you. I will deal with him. You handle the one below."
After a few steadying words, Josef's fighter carved a graceful arc through the clouds.
He climbed first, then descended sharply.
Using the dive to seize maximum speed, he slipped behind the I 15. Spent machine gun casings rained away from the wings, and bullets tore into the enemy aircraft's retreating fuselage, shredding its fragile mixture of wood and metal.
The damaged plane lost balance and plunged rapidly toward the ground.
At almost the same moment, Kalm's excited voice rang in Josef's ear.
"I hit him too. Pulling up and disengaging. Repeat, pulling up and disengaging."
"Good work, Kalm. Circle wide, gain altitude, and return to base. Repeat, circle wide, gain altitude, and return to base."
As Josef maneuvered his plane, two enemy aircraft suddenly emerged head on from a dense patch of cloud.
A novice would undoubtedly have panicked.
Josef was no novice.
His finger squeezed the trigger by instinct.
One enemy aircraft was shredded in the burst.
Josef pulled up desperately.
The Bf 109's engine released a sharp, strained howl. Almost at the same instant the other enemy plane reacted and opened fire, Josef shot upward into higher cloud cover.
His heart pounded violently.
Blood surged toward his head, and for a moment he could only gasp for breath.
But the danger was not over.
An I 16 had locked onto his tail.
Josef could only rely on the Bf 109's superior speed to widen the firing angle between them, making it harder for the enemy to score a hit.
"Josef, bring him down. Let me handle him. Are you all right, Josef?"
Hearing Kalm's voice, Josef suppressed the tremor in his chest and replied, "Received. I am..."
Before he could finish, the I 16 pursuing him suddenly seemed to suffer a malfunction.
Its speed dropped sharply.
Then it lost power completely and spiraled toward the ground.
"Josef? How did you do that?"
Kalm watched the enemy plane crash into the city below, bursting into a large fireball, and asked with obvious frustration.
Josef let out a long breath.
He banked his aircraft to the side, contacted Command Center to request return clearance, and replied calmly, "Through excellent German craftsmanship."
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03]