"Now we need more firepower." Zeisler looked at Clausen's sketch of the battlefield and compared it with the military map he had brought.

"But the people inside may not be able to hold on, the backup is coming, you are our only hope now." Clausen said to Zeisler sincerely. He was now at a loss for what to do, and as he said, the Panzergrenadier company was the only hope for the surrounded paratroopers.

"Understood, we only have to do it ourselves, I need your people to fully cooperate with me." Zeisler placed the map on the seat of the barrel car.

"No problem, Lieutenant Zeisler, my men and I are always at your orders." Clausen did not hesitate to hand over the command, as long as he could save his comrades, he didn't care if the other party's rank was the same as his own.

"Now the first thing we have to do is to contact the comrades inside, don't you have a radio station?" Zeisler unbuttoned his raincoat and pulled out a cigarette case from the chest pocket of his uniform.

"We had two radios in the company, one was missing along with the communications corps, and the other was damaged during the battle, and we have not been able to contact the troops inside." Clawson pushed away the cigarette case handed by Zeisler, indicating that he did not smoke.

"Nikkor, call the company headquarters immediately and ask them to send a Type 300 over." Zeisler unfastened the strap of the walkie-talkie and handed it to Nikkle.

"We have to make a careful battle plan now, we only have one chance, so there is absolutely no room for error." Zeisler turned his face to look at Clausen.

"My people will provide you with all the help you need, and if we can do it, we will do our best." Clausen replied in the affirmative.

"Very well, Lieutenant Clausen. Now let's talk about what we have. Zeisler lit his cigarette and pointed to the marks on the sketch.

"Frank, Nicholas, Taylor, you three come with me." Sergeant Hoffman stood on the edge of the ditch and whispered to the three paratroopers crouching at the bottom of the ditch.

"Yes. Sergeant. The three paratroopers whispered in reply, and at the same time quickly rolled out of the ditch.

"Now the company has an important mission, we are going to do an undercover raid. The mission is very dangerous, and if you feel unsure, you can ask to quit because once we set off. Then the task must be completed to the end. Hoffman held the submachine gun on his chest and said solemnly to the three paratroopers.

"No problem, sergeant." "Stand by, sergeant." "Give the order, sergeant." Although the paratroopers were dealt a heavy blow, their morale was still strong, and they were eager to fight the enemy, blood for tooth for tooth.

"Very good, now check the respective gear. Only weapons and ammunition were carried, and other equipment was left in position. Hoffman took the lead in throwing his grocery bags and gas mask barrels and marching bags next to the trenches, and then placed a canvas bag in front of the paratroopers.

"Two grenades per person." Hoffman pulled 1911 from his armpit holster, pulled out the magazine and checked the ammunition level.

"Take two more stalks, and tools, you all know how to use them. Hoffman tightened the jawband of his steel helmet and wiped the rain from his face.

"Ready? Well, we set off. "Four paratroopers bent over. Under the cover of night and rain, along the ridges by the road. Quickly run towards the village in the distance.

"They are the best soldiers I have under my command, they have fought in Norway and Belgium, they are very experienced, and they will not have problems." Clausen stood beside the barrel cart and watched the paratroopers in the distance, waiting until he couldn't see the figures clearly before turning back to Zeisler.

"I believe in the abilities of these soldiers, lieutenant. Then we're all in place. Act as originally planned. I look forward to seeing you again after the battle, Lieutenant. Zeisler slammed his boot into the heel and raised his hand in a military salute.

"Me too, Lieutenant, good luck." Clawson solemnly returned the salute.

"See you later, then." Zeisler turned and stepped into the rain. After taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped.

"Don't forget, start the action in ten minutes." Zeisler turned and raised his wrist and pointed at his watch.

"Ten minutes." Clausen nodded in understanding.

"Pay attention to the second and third platoons, you all know the plan, line up in an assault formation, advance three hundred meters, the paratroopers will indicate the target for us, my request is, use all your weapons, shoot at the target, and shoot anything out for me. Heavy fire company, follow the company headquarters to act. Zeisler stood in his command car and shouted orders over the radio.

"I've heard the company commander's orders, let's go, hurry up. Expand the formation! Sergeant Major Frank yelled over the radio.

"Have you made contact with Command?" Zeisler leaned on the edge of the carriage and asked the signal corps.

"The regiment has reported that the third company is about four kilometers west of us, and they are trying to find a way to get closer to us, but the problem is that they can't find a suitable road, and they may have to go around in a circle."

"These damn British, damn British highways." Zeisler shook his head helplessly. "It's too late to wait for them, we'll have to do it ourselves."

"In addition, I just contacted the paratroopers inside, and they said that they were ready to cooperate with our actions, they had repelled three large-scale attacks of the other side, the losses were not large, but the ammunition was running out, and they were trying to find ammunition from the enemy's corpses. It can already be confirmed that the other side is the Podhall brigade, all of them Poles. The communications soldier shrugged his shoulders at the company commander.

"It's good that we've finally been able to avenge Captain Keteroff, and we've finally run into these bastards again. These cowards actually shot at the wounded, the same they did when they were in Poland. Zeisler put on his headphones and hung up the microphone around his neck.

"Listen to all, it is forbidden to accept the surrender of the other side until you receive my order. On the opposite side of the enemy are the Polish troops who are working for their English masters, who have stubbornly chosen to continue to be the enemy of the Germans, and we must show them the cost of this stupidity, and if they are unwilling to admit defeat, then we will destroy them physically. ”

Fourteen half-track transporters drove off the road and spread out into two horizontal columns, with two platoons of personnel carriers in the front and heavy firepower and company platoons in the rear. The motorcycles attached to the company headquarters continued to remain on the road, serving as a guard and cover for the flanks.

Soon the roar of the Maybach engine echoed across the field, making it particularly dull in the rainstorm.

"Attention, the tanks of the Germans!" The Polish soldiers screamed, and between the engines they heard the click of track shoe collisions.

"Anti-tank guns are prepared, pay attention to ranges. Flares. Shoot two flares. "The platoon commander of the anti-tank gun platoon commanded loudly. He stood in front of the artillery mirror, carefully scanning the field in front of him, trying to find the enemy's traces behind the dark rain curtain.

"We only have one flare, sir." The squad leader of the mortar squad ran to the window and reported to his superiors in the room in a panic.

"Get this damn cannonball out of me now, we have to see where the enemy is." The platoon commander angrily pointed at the squad leader's nose and scolded. With a muffled sound, a flare was fired into the sky above the German position, and the miserable white light illuminated the German position below through the dense rain curtain.

"Not a tank. It's armored cars, four, five, six, seven...... At least two platoons, and a little bit behind. The platoon commander's face changed all of a sudden.

"Determine the distance, aim at the target in the middle, and fire immediately without waiting for my order." The platoon commander let go of the artillery mirror, walked to the window, and looked at the bright German positions in the distance.

"These damn Brits." The Polish second lieutenant took off the four-cornered military cap from his head. This is the only memorial to his service in the Polish army, and he was brought out with a Polish army uniform. When he landed in Portsmouth, he lost it along with his checked luggage, leaving only the military hat in the carry-on box.

Now the second lieutenant hated the British more than ever. At the same time, he knew that he would never get a chance to get revenge on those bastards.

The only heavy weapons returned to the Solsky battalion by the British Army were these two anti-tank guns, but contrary to the judgment of the Germans, these two were not British two-pounder guns, but French Type 1937 47mm anti-tank guns, which are called pitot guns by the French.

This is an anti-tank weapon with decent performance. The accuracy is so-so, and the power is enough to deal with German tanks below the third size, but the problem is that the French Army has always had a different way of thinking, and they have only developed armor-piercing shells for this kind of artillery, and there are no other semi-armor-piercing shells, grenades, etc. So this artillery cannot perform other tasks except anti-armor.

In the eyes of the British, this kind of thing is a waste, and when it was used to train the gunners of the National Guard, a layer of rifling had been worn off after two months of tossing, so it was so generously returned to the Poles.

Although the Solsky battalion got the artillery, it lost the source of ammunition, and of course the British would not collect this French-made ammunition for them, the original stock was taken to train the National Guard, and the group of National Guards had been depleted, and in the end there were only a pitiful eight rounds of ammunition left for each artillery, which was still collected by Solsky begging his grandfather and grandmother from the corner of the munitions warehouse.

Now the two guns each fired five shells, which were originally unsuitable for attacking positional targets, but in order to suppress the German machine-gun fire and mortars, they had to rush to the shelves, and the precious shells were wasted on this boring fire.

The artillery of the Solsky battalion was all under his command, and who would have thought that an infantry battalion would be issued with only four mortars, and all of them were 60 mm French-made blounds. The performance of the French goods is not bad, the range has reached more than a thousand meters, and the problem is that the source of ammunition has been cut off, and all the anti-personnel shells have been fired in the battle just now, and now there are only some smoke grenades and flares left. Oh, and the flares have just run out.

What made the Polish artillery platoon commander angry was that the British just did not agree to replace these equipment with British-made weapons, and the reason given was that the Poles were already familiar with the operation of these equipment, and changing British products would require retraining, which would reduce the combat effectiveness of the troops.

"Just some armored vehicles, our guns can pick them up." The gunners shouted loudly in the rain, and the aiming hand carefully rotated the fine-tuning handplate, and the muzzle of the gun slowly pointed at the German armored vehicle under the flare.

"Seven hundred and thirty meters!" The rangefinder managed to get the distance out before the flare went out, and in this faint light he had done all his best.

"Fire!" An anti-tank gun opened fire first, dragging bright, trace-light armor-piercing shells across the field, and then plunged headlong into the damp earth, which flew in all directions along with broken grass and leaves, causing no damage except for a layer of crushed dirt and sludge on the hull of the German armored vehicle.

"Three meters off, damn rain." The gunner cursed loudly at the bad weather, and the loader pulled out the ammunition from the nearby wooden box and began to reload the next round.

The Polish anti-tank shelling was like a switch, and the machine guns and rifles on the paratrooper positions suddenly began to fire at the buildings occupied by the Poles at the same time, and the Germans did not care about the consumption of ammunition at this time, and green tracer bullets rained down on the Poles.

Immediately, all the German armored vehicles began to fire at the Polish positions with the MG34 machine gun in front of the car, the paratroopers' tracer bullets pointed them to the target position, and the machine gunners began to use long burst fire and burst fire on the target.

Two anti-tank guns were the first targets, and before one could open fire, it was surrounded by a dense rain of bullets, the gunner and sighter screamed and cowered behind the shield and did not dare to move, and the second gunner and ammunition man lay on the side, one with his chest torn and the other with his face blown away, and dense raindrops poured down on the bloody corpses, blood mixed with rain flowing down the trenches on the ground towards the edge of the street.

"Fire, fire! Knock out the armored vehicles of the Germans! The artillery platoon commander hid behind the bunker in the house, and he gave the order loudly to the gun emplacements set up next to the house.

"God, who's going to help me, medics!" The only thing that answered him was the terrible shouts of his subordinates.

Suddenly, I don't know what happened, the German shooting stopped abruptly, and the surroundings suddenly became quiet, except for the still dense sound of rain, only the shrill screams of the wounded Polish soldiers.

"Fire! Fire now! The platoon commander poked his head out of the bunker with desks and furniture, and he continued to shout out the window. At this moment, a dense burst of gunfire suddenly sounded outside the window, and the platoon commander hurriedly retreated behind the bunker.

The next second, the door behind him was kicked open from the outside, and a black object was thrown into the house. The Polish lieutenant looked at the sneering thing suspiciously, and by the time he reacted, it was already too late.

With a deafening roar, the battered body of the artillery platoon commander fell to the floor, and a tattered four-cornered military hat fell beside him, blood slowly flowing and soaking the yellow-brown brim. (To be continued......)

PS: There is something at home, the update time will be irregular in recent days, and the number of words cannot be guaranteed, but I will try my best to update, I hope you can understand.