Chapter 550: Shocking the White Army for a Whole Year

In the rear cabin of the half-track armored command vehicle, Morin watched the two blue markers representing friendly aviation units head north on the system map.

The two red markers representing enemy aviation units had faded into small red crosses, indicating they had been shot down.

Meanwhile, the [Intelligence] interface refreshed with new information.

Since the fall of the Greater Rus Empire, Russian aviation development had largely stagnated. Consequently, the White Army’s aircraft were actually sponsored by the Gauls and Britannians.

To catch up with Saxon progress and achieve breakthroughs in radiant crystal technology, both nations had been following in Saxony's footsteps.

However, the Holy Britannian Empire possessed the Highland Mage Order, and spellcasters were inherently resistant to machines that could fly without magic.

Thus, Britannian aviation development faltered, taking a detour by heavily incorporating magitech elements.

The Gauls were less particular. They successfully developed several early aircraft models, equipping their own army while providing substantial aid to Kolchak and the others.

More importantly, during Richthofen and Immelmann's reconnaissance mission, the "fog of war" in the Rzhyshchiv sector on the system map had been largely dispelled.

The locations, scales, and enemy-friendly dispositions of both bridgeheads were clearly laid out in Morin’s mind.

The White Army forces that had successfully crossed and landed totaled less than three battalions across both bridgeheads.

Although this emergency deployment was hasty, the Armored Instruction Regiment's personnel had maintained their vehicles relatively well.

Following their recent long-distance march, the vehicles had undergone maintenance and continued scheduled servicing upon early arrival at the garrison. Fortunately, the entire column experienced no major mechanical failures.

Even the few vehicles that did encounter issues were quickly repaired on the roadside and rejoined the formation.

The scenery along the highway gradually shifted from empty farmlands to sparsely distributed villages and copses.

Occasionally, they spotted Western Rus civilians driving horse-drawn carts northwest. Seeing this massive, roaring column of steel, they stopped to watch, their expressions a mix of fear and curiosity.

After driving for another forty minutes, Morin heard faint artillery fire in the distance.

It wasn't dense, but it was rhythmic—a continuous, muffled rumble every twenty seconds or so.

It was likely White Army artillery on the far bank laying down suppressive fire on Western Rus positions on the west bank.

"We're almost there."

Morin stood up and popped his upper body out of the command vehicle's open roof.

The field of view widened significantly. The silhouette of a city was visible to the south, along with several gray columns of smoke rising into the sky.

Glancing at the system map, he confirmed they were four kilometers from Rzhyshchiv and patted the driver's shoulder.

"Turn off up ahead and find a suitable spot to park."

Soon, the Armored Instruction Regiment's column halted at a crossroads concealed by trees. Major Weichs and Morin climbed out of the command vehicle as several trailing vehicles came to a stop.

Within minutes, a folding table was set up beside the command vehicle, and a map was hung on its side armor, forming a temporary command post.

The commanders of the primary combat detachments hurried over.

"Recon vehicles out first." Morin marked two spots on the map with a pencil.

"Four Sd.Kfz 100s. Two go here, two go here... Don't get too close. Just get a general read on the enemy and come back. And watch out for friendly fire."

Major Weichs immediately turned and relayed the orders to the regiment's direct-reporting reconnaissance unit.

The engines of four Sd.Kfz 100s—more agile vehicles used for armored reconnaissance—roared to life. They split into two groups and sped off in different directions.

After the recon vehicles left, Morin studied the tactical data provided by the system map, planning his next move.

Two bridgeheads, one north, one south, about three kilometers apart.

The White Army had secured footholds at both points, but neither was large. They were currently huddled in temporary trenches by the river, exchanging fire with the Western Rus garrison. No third crossing point had appeared yet.

Morin breathed a sigh of relief. At least he didn't have to rush to put out fires; he could advance methodically.

About twenty minutes later, the two recon vehicles sent to the northern bridgehead returned.

As the drivers hit the brakes, a sergeant jumped out, ran over to Morin and Weichs, and reported breathlessly.

"Report: Enemy strength in the bridgehead is estimated at less than two battalions. They are entirely crammed into foxholes and connecting trenches dug along the riverbank."

"Heavy weapons?" Major Weichs asked.

"Spotted three heavy machine guns deployed at different locations... There are also several machine-gun teams on the far bank providing covering fire, and artillery shells occasionally land on friendly positions."

"Armor? Anti-armor weapons?"

The sergeant shook his head.

"Didn't see anything that could scratch our vehicles."

Morin and Weichs exchanged a look, then Morin nodded at him.

"We'll take them out one by one."

He tapped the northern bridgehead with his pencil.

"We hit this one first. Once it's cleared, we evaluate the southern bridgehead and press the attack."

Weichs looked at the distance between the two points and asked, "General, if there are two bridgeheads, shouldn't we strike both simultaneously? Based on the enemy strength at the northern one, we have enough troops."

Morin shook his head. "First battle, no need to be so aggressive... This is the Armored Instruction Regiment's first real combat. I want stability, not speed."

"Understood, General."

"Alright, the operational framework is set. You handle the specific tactical deployment."

Morin placed his pencil on the table, crossed his arms, and took a step back.

"Do it your way."

The pressure on Weichs spiked again; he suddenly felt like he was taking an exam.

But he didn't hesitate for long. Mentally reviewing his available forces, he quickly began issuing orders.

"Armored Regiment 1st Battalion and Infantry Regiment 1st Battalion will lead the main assault. Detach a platoon of fire-support vehicles from the Regimental Heavy Weapons Company to reinforce them."

"2nd Battalion, Brigade Engineer Company, and the Thunder Warriors will form the reserve, ready to deploy at a moment's notice."

Morin nodded.

"Go with that plan. Iron out the details yourselves."

He offered no further critique. Given the disparity in strength, the White Army forces that had crossed were minimal. This battle was more of a test of the Instruction Brigade's own coordination capabilities.

After Weichs and the operations officers finalized the plan in record time, everyone scrambled to make final preparations.

The soldiers of the 1st Motorized Infantry Battalion, who had dismounted to stretch their legs, began checking their gear under the direction of their platoon leaders.

When zero hour arrived, the half-tracks of the Armored Regiment's 1st Battalion executed their pre-planned maneuver. They broke from a single marching column into multiple company-level columns, advancing south along three routes separated by several hundred meters.

The Heavy Weapons Company's six Sd.Kfz 101/2 fire-support vehicles (armed with 50mm guns) followed closely, taking up positions near the battalion command vehicle.

The barrels of the 50mm Pak 15 anti-armor guns swayed slightly as they moved. The gunners had already racked high-explosive shells in the most accessible slots.

The trucks carrying the remaining infantry and Thunder Warriors fired up. They would advance about three kilometers before unloading the infantry to enter the battlefield on foot.

Morin didn't advance with the 1st Battalion; he remained at the temporary command post.

The system map provided him with complete situational awareness; there was no need to push closer.

In fact, observing Weichs command the entire operation from the rear was a better test of the unit's mettle.

Four kilometers was nothing for a mechanized force. The columns quickly reached the outskirts of the bridgehead.

The sounds of battle grew clearer. The sporadic crackle of rifles intertwined with the short, rhythmic bursts of heavy machine guns, punctuated by occasional explosions.

The 1st Company of the Armored Regiment's 1st Battalion was the first to arrive, roughly 1.5 kilometers from the bridgehead.

The company commander popped out of his command vehicle, peering through binoculars at the outline of the riverbank ahead.

"Company, deploy!"

Orders were relayed via semaphore flags. The half-tracks began peeling off from the column to the flanks, swiftly transitioning into a lateral skirmish line.

The 2nd and 3rd Companies followed suit, deploying onto the 1st Company's left and right flanks respectively.

The three companies formed an imposing armored attack frontage, continuing to press toward the bridgehead at roughly twenty kilometers per hour.

As the half-tracks deployed, the 1st Company commander drew a flare gun and fired three green flares into the sky—open-topped vehicles had their perks.

On the western edge of the bridgehead, every soldier in the Western Rus National Army trenches, locked in a firefight with the White Army, saw the three green orbs in the sky.

An officer immediately recognized it. A recent telegram from Kyiv had mentioned this would be the signal for a friendly attack.

He grabbed the nearest messenger by the shoulder and shouted, "Friendly forces are here! Pass the word: cease fire to the southeast, watch out for friendly units!"

Several messengers bolted down the line, relaying the order.

However, most Western Rus soldiers didn't need orders to realize something was up. The dense roar of engines approaching from their rear flank was unmistakable.

A mud-caked young soldier peeked his head over the trench parapet, and his jaw dropped.

From his vantage point, a line... no, multiple lines of strange, muddy vehicles were rumbling toward them from the northwest, the machine guns and cannons on their roofs all pointed toward the river.

"Good lord..."

A veteran next to him, who had been about to pull him down, also saw it and nearly dropped his rifle.

"What are those things?"

No one answered, because moments later, the vehicles erupted in fire.

Entering the 600-meter range, the vehicular machine guns across the Armored Regiment's 1st Battalion began laying down suppressive fire toward the bridgehead in plunging arcs.

Tracer rounds drew orange-red curves through the air, slamming densely into the White Army positions on the riverbank.

The White Army soldiers, who had been firing at the Western Rus troops, suddenly found themselves under fire from a completely unexpected direction.

The first to be overwhelmed were the foxholes on the flank. Before the White Army infantry inside could even turn their heads, the enfilading hail of bullets pinned them to the dirt.

A few quick-reacting soldiers tried to pivot their rifles toward the armored vehicles, but their accuracy at this range was negligible. Even when bullets struck the metal hulls, they only produced weak clangs.

Two of the three heavy machine guns in the bridgehead swung around to engage the armored vehicles.

The rapid clatter of metal on metal rang out as several rounds struck the frontal armor of the 1st Company's 2nd Platoon command vehicle, showering sparks, but achieving nothing else.

These vehicles were designed with infantry weapons in mind. Standard-caliber rifle and machine-gun rounds had virtually zero chance of penetrating the angled frontal armor.

"Enemy heavy machine gun nest spotted ahead, priority target!"

The commander of an attached Sd.Kfz 101/2 fire-support vehicle quickly locked onto one of the firing machine-gun nests.

"High-explosive! Load!"

The loader's movements were crisp. He shoved a 50mm HE shell into the breech, which snapped shut with a clack.

"Loaded!"

"Halt!"

The driver slammed the brakes, and the ten-ton half-track lurched to a stop.

The gunner finalized his aim the moment the vehicle steadied.

"Fire!"

"Boom!"

A short flash erupted from the 50mm barrel, the recoil rocking the vehicle slightly.

The HE shell flew toward the machine gun nest over four hundred meters away at blinding speed, ultimately landing just to the right of the target.

It blew out a section of the cover, but the White Army soldiers inside were largely unharmed thanks to the remaining sandbags.

"Advance! Load HE!"

The vehicle lurched forward again. The loader opened the breech, waited for the smoking casing to eject, and cleanly loaded another round.

Soon, on the commander's order, the vehicle stopped again. This time, the gunner adjusted his aim slightly left.

"Fire!"

"Boom!"

In the blink of an eye, the second 50mm HE round scored a direct hit.

The machine gun nest vanished in a modest explosion, sending sandbags, the gun mount, and unidentifiable debris tumbling through the air.

Simultaneously, another fire-support vehicle neutralized the second exposed White Army heavy machine gun.

As for the White Army machine-gun teams on the far bank attempting to provide covering fire...

They could shoot across the river, but after traversing three to four hundred meters of water, their accuracy and penetrating power plummeted, posing zero threat to the half-tracks.

Conversely, the remaining fire-support vehicles calmly utilized the high rate of fire and accuracy of their increasingly versatile 50mm anti-armor guns to pick off the White Army positions on the far bank.

Even the few small boats ferrying reinforcements across the river drew their attention.

"Load armor-piercing... No, stick with HE. Those boats aren't armored..."

Under the commanders' orders, shells soon began splashing around the boats.

A plume of water erupted next to a boat packed with soldiers. The vessel rocked violently, tossing several men into the river.

The next shot was dead on, striking the hull.

Wood splinters and water blasted outward. The boat quickly split in two from the impact point, plunging the rest of the soldiers into the river.

Seeing this, the soldiers in the other boats abandoned the crossing and frantically turned back.

While the fire-support vehicles enjoyed their target practice, the 1st Armored Battalion had pushed to within 200 meters of the bridgehead.

The machine guns on the half-tracks continued pouring fire unabated, but their speed slowed. According to the Armored Instruction Regiment's combat manual, once within 300 meters, the infantry were to dismount depending on the terrain.

Soon, a red flag waved from the command vehicle, and squad leaders across the half-tracks bellowed in unison.

"Absitzen! Absitzen! (Dismount! Dismount!)"

The rear doors swung open, and some soldiers poured out the back, while other gray-clad figures vaulted over the sides from the roof. Having drilled this maneuver countless times over the past two months, their movements were fluid and rapid. The half-tracks emptied almost instantly.

Hitting the ground, the soldiers immediately fanned out to the left and right of their vehicles, maintaining a five-meter spacing to form a skirmish line.

Under the cover of the armored vehicles, they advanced another several dozen meters.

At this range, the details of the White Army bridgehead were clearly visible: churned earth, chaotic sandbags, and heads popping up and ducking back down into foxholes.

The platoon sergeants blew their assault whistles almost simultaneously.

"Vorwärts! Angriff! (Forward! Attack!)"

The skirmish line accelerated.

The first armored infantry in this world, operating in squad-sized elements, bounded forward using alternating cover.

The half-tracks behind them kept firing, the machine-gun rounds whizzing over the infantry's heads, keeping anyone in the White Army positions pinned down.

This infantry-armor coordination shocked the White Army soldiers and proved devastating in practice.

Pinned down by the machine guns and cannons, they couldn't even raise their heads. The Instruction Brigade infantry exploited this suppression to close the distance.

Whenever they managed to peek out during a lull in the machine-gun fire to shoot, the automatic weapons in the hands of the advancing Saxons forced them back down.

The flank of the bridgehead fell first. Covered by the half-tracks, two squads of armored infantry cut into the edge of the White Army position at an angle.

Several grenades were tossed into the connecting trenches. Following a series of explosions, the soldiers leaped in.

What followed was a completely one-sided close-quarters fight.

After the Serbians, Romanians, and Greeks, the Russian White Army finally tasted authentic Western Front assault tactics.

The chatter of submachine guns, the blasts of grenades, and sporadic screams mingled together. In dozens of seconds, that section of the trench was swept clean.

The front of the position fell next. Seeing the friendly forces breach the enemy line in the blink of an eye, the Western Rus soldiers launched another frontal assault.

Suppressed by the armored vehicles, the White Army soldiers were completely defenseless. Some tried to scramble out of the trenches and run toward the riverbank.

But the river was right behind them; where could they run?

Most surrendered in despair.

However, at the far end of the bridgehead, roughly a platoon of White Army soldiers organized a final stand under an officer's command.

These former Imperial Guardsmen clustered behind an earth-and-wood fortification built into a depression, firing frantically with rifles and their last remaining heavy machine gun.

The 2nd Company, encountering this resistance, didn't charge blindly. Instead, they called up a fire-support vehicle.

An Sd.Kfz 101/2 crushed through the soft mud, stopping less than 150 meters from the fortification.

Hitting a stationary target with a 50mm anti-armor gun at that range was child's play. Three HE shells later, the fortification ceased to exist.

Deprived of their final cover, the remaining White Army soldiers broke.

Some dropped their weapons, squatting with their hands on their heads. Others turned and leaped into the river, deciding the rushing water was safer than facing the steel beasts on the shore.

From the moment the 1st Battalion deployed its attack formation to breaching the enemy lines, the entire process took less than fifteen minutes.

From the infantry dismounting to the end of the battle, it took barely seven minutes. The other infantry battalion, which was also part of the main assault, felt like they hadn't even contributed.

On the far bank, a White Army officer watched the entire ordeal through binoculars.

He slowly lowered them, his face ashen.

Those steel vehicles charging from the flank, the tight coordination between infantry and vehicles, the speed at which the dismounted soldiers overran the positions...

Having fought for five years in the civil war, he had seen it all, but he had never encountered tactics like this.

Most terrifyingly, he saw roughly another battalion of infantry behind the armored vehicles, meaning the enemy hadn't even committed their full strength.

He handed the binoculars to his adjutant, his voice hoarse.

"...Send a telegram to rear command."

"Saying what?"

"Say that elite enemy reinforcements have arrived at Rzhyshchiv. Our first crossing point has fallen."

He paused, then added, "Also, report to General Denikin that the enemy possesses armored vehicles armed with heavy weapons. Forcing a crossing here will not be as simple as we thought."

The adjutant hurried off.

When the officer raised his binoculars again, he saw a sight that made his scalp tingle.

The armored vehicles that had just annihilated the northern bridgehead didn't stop to rest.

They were reforming their formation and turning south.

South, toward the White Army's second bridgehead.