Episode 16: Operation Dynamo (3)
May 26.
“The Boches (a derogatory term for Germans used by the French) are coming!”
At news that German troops had appeared at the front, Lieutenant Jean Renobel quickly sprang up and ran toward his tank.
Driver Corporal Mario Parville was already aboard.
The moment Jean stepped inside, Mario put on a brazen act.
“Sir, why are you so late? You’re late, late!”
“I know!”
Those damned Boche bastards—not even giving us time to drink coffee?
Grumbling, Jean put on the tanker helmet he had stashed in the corner of the turret. Then he took out his signal flags and relayed the order to prepare for combat to the tanks under his command.
The French tanks were superior in performance to their German counterparts, but because they lacked radios, orders were relayed through the pre-modern method of signal flags.
On the other hand, while German tank performance was inferior, every vehicle was equipped with a radio, allowing for smoother communication.
Consequently, despite possessing superior tanks, the French army often crumbled before German tank units due to this lack of communication.
Jean’s orders were always simple.
Once battle began, use your own judgment and fight.
The tanks that had confirmed the order raised their green signal flags twice into the air.
It meant ‘Acknowledged.’
“If only we had radios, I wouldn’t even look at those damned flags. I have no idea why the big shots are still so obsessed with signal flags.”
Jean expressed his agreement with Mario’s words.
“That’s just how old fossils are. How could old geezers on their last legs have their heads screwed on straight?”
Jean loaded a 37mm armor-piercing round into the breech.
The Hotchkiss H39 light tank he rode in had a crew of only two—the commander and the driver—so the commander also had to serve as both loader and gunner, making it extremely inconvenient.
“Here they come!”
Scarcely had preparations finished when a German tank was sighted racing toward them, kicking up thick clouds of sandy dust.
Their first opponent was a Panzer I.
Having confirmed the target, Jean turned the handwheel to rotate the turret.
Once the Panzer I was centered in the crosshairs, he ruthlessly stomped the firing pedal.
“Hit!”
The Panzer I, struck by the 37mm armor-piercing round square in the front hull, spun sharply to the left like a puppy caught underfoot and slammed straight into a ditch.
With no crew seen escaping, it seemed the entire crew had been killed instantly by that single blow.
The Panzer II that appeared next opened fire with its 20mm autocannon, but the shells failed to penetrate the H39’s front armor, ricocheting off one after another.
While the enemy diligently sprayed autocannon fire, Jean loaded a second armor-piercing round.
“Fire!”
It was an old habit of Jean’s to shout the word even though he loaded and fired by himself.
The armor-piercing round he fired scored a direct hit on the lower hull of the Panzer II, destroying its transmission. The enemy tank was rendered combat-ineffective.
“Nice!”
While Jean was loading a third armor-piercing round, a commotion broke out on the right flank.
Wondering what was happening, Jean pressed his eye to the observation slit and was startled to discover two H39s engulfed in flames and German tanks approaching toward him.
“Mario! Reverse!”
That quick judgment saved his and Mario’s lives.
The 37mm armor-piercing round fired by the Panzer III missed Jean’s tank by a hair’s breadth.
Jean rotated his turret behind the wrecked friendly tank.
“Those damned cowards, circling around to the right like that.”
The ones they had fought just moments ago had apparently been bait.
What the hell were the anti-tank gunners who were supposed to cover the flanks doing?
Jean wanted to shout in anger.
But they were in combat now, so he had to deal with the enemies before him first.
The Panzer IIIs attacked, pressing their numerical advantage.
As per his prearranged plan, Jean aimed at the closest one first.
The moment the enemy’s rectangular hull was caught in his gunsight, he fired without hesitation.
The result was a hit.
“Got him!”
The Panzer III, its hull penetrated, belched black smoke and ground to a halt.
The turret hatch opened, and wounded German tankers spilled out.
Jean wanted to rake them with the coaxial machine gun, but with two enemy tanks still remaining to face, he left them to flee.
The Panzer III that had already closed to within 200 meters fired its cannon first.
Fortunately, the enemy tank’s shell merely left a large gash on the hull and was deflected.
“Ugh!”
However, the shockwave was transmitted fully into the tank’s interior.
Had the distance been just a little closer, had the hull’s angle been just five degrees different, the shell would have penetrated.
On the battlefield, life and death were divided by the most minute differences.
For now, the goddess of fortune seemed to be smiling upon Jean.
Having loaded at lightning speed, Jean stomped the pedal without hesitation.
Sparks flew from the main gun’s muzzle as the shell casing was ejected.
True to his reputation as the regiment’s finest tanker, recognized personally by the regimental commander, the shell once again struck the enemy tank square in the front.
Seeing the resulting explosion, Jean cheered.
“Nice! Huh?!”
But then something unexpected happened.
Wasn’t the tank that should have been destroyed approaching without a scratch?
Even the spot where the shell had hit only bore slight scorch marks.
Normally, by now there should have been a gaping hole spewing flames. But why? How?
“Ah, damn it! I fired a high-explosive shell!”
The reason became clear immediately.
In the extreme haste of the situation, he had loaded a high-explosive round instead of an armor-piercing one.
Having fired a 37mm high-explosive round with virtually no armor-piercing capability, it was only natural that the enemy was unscathed.
“Sir! What do we do now?!”
Mario asked in alarm upon seeing the Panzer III bearing down on them at ferocious speed. His voice was more urgent than ever.
“Go, forward! No, reverse! Reverse!”
As Jean ordered, Mario reversed the tank. But the enemy was faster.
In the blink of an eye, the two Panzer IIIs had closed to barely fifty meters from Jean’s H39.
The turrets of both tanks rotated to aim at Jean’s tank.
Two armor-piercing rounds scored direct hits on the hull’s side and the turret respectively.
The armor-piercing rounds that punched through the armor exploded, and the resulting flames swept through the tank’s cramped interior.
The hatch blew open, unable to withstand the pressure, and a pillar of flame shot up with it.
The German 10th Panzer Division, having breached the French defensive line, began flooding into the interior of the Dunkirk encirclement like a tidal wave.
***
May 27.
“Admiral, disaster!”
Urgent news arrived for Vice Admiral Jean-Marie Charles Abrial as he was finally trying to get some sleep after a long meeting with his staff.
“What is it now?”
His sleep interrupted, Abrial rose from his cot with clear irritation. Then he snatched the telegram from the hand of his aide, who stood there with a bewildered expression.
As Abrial read down the telegram, his face soon went pale.
The hand holding the telegram trembled.
“My God, what on earth…”
It was news that the defensive lines of the French 32nd and 60th Infantry Divisions holding the front had collapsed under the fierce assault of the German 10th Panzer Division, and that deserters were pouring out from every unit.
There was even news that German armored units had appeared behind their own lines and devastated supply depots.
“Upon hearing that the front has been breached, frightened soldiers are deserting in droves. There are even reports of officers who should be stopping them joining the desertion.”
“What of the 21st and 62nd Infantry Divisions? What happened to them?”
“We attempted to establish communication with both units, but we cannot reach them, Admiral.”
“Th-then send messengers at once. Go and extract one regiment at a time to the breached front line…”
Abrial trailed off.
He was barely able to stand on his own feet.
“Admiral, the Germans may appear here at any moment. You must evacuate immediately!”
“But where am I to go now?”
The aide was struck dumb at Abrial’s question. And no wonder—they were already inside the German encirclement.
But where could they run to now?
There was nowhere to run.
‘What do I do now?’
Abrial racked his brains desperately, but no good plan came to mind.
If Germans had appeared even at supply depots far removed from the front, then the front had already completely collapsed.
In other words, it meant enemy forces that had been stalled at the defensive line were now surging forward in great numbers.
Perhaps because he was so tense, his throat was parched.
He had the orderly fetch him some water.
As the orderly brought a glass of water on a tray, vibrations were felt. And engine sounds were heard as well.
Sensing ill omens, the aide went outside and returned with his face pale as a sheet.
Seeing the aide’s complexion, Abrial realized at once the nature of the sound.
“Admiral, it’s the Germans!”
The Germans had come right up to the building Abrial was using as his command post!
French soldiers who had already lost the will to fight threw down their weapons and fled or raised their hands high the moment the Germans appeared.
The Germans left the surrendering French alone and fired at the fleeing soldiers.
A harmony of screams and gunfire raged.
Soon, Germans appeared where Abrial was.
A German soldier who roughly kicked open the door and burst inside discovered the three Frenchmen gathered at the table and shouted in the French he had rapidly learned a month ago.
“Haut les mains (Hands up)!”
Facing the German shouting broken French while pointing a gun at him, Abrial gave a bitter smile.
His pistol lay neatly on the table.
A short while later, Guderian received a brief report from the vanguard of the 10th Panzer Division.
‘Captured French Navy Northern Naval Commander Jean-Marie Charles Abrial. Continuing advance.’
At the concise yet perfect report, Guderian smiled.
The radio had been going crazy with transmissions from Berlin for some time now, but he lightly ignored them.
There was something more important before him than Berlin’s reprimands.
“Now, let’s push on to Dunkirk like this!”