I Became a Tycoon During World War I - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: On the Right Path

Matthew started the tractor by pulling the lever, its engine rumbling loudly as he climbed into the tank, readying himself for battle.

The first-generation tanks were incredibly cumbersome. The machine gunner was positioned at the front, nearly level with the driver, who could only see ahead through a palm-sized observation slit. This limited visibility was why tanks had previously driven straight into trenches and gotten stuck.

“Boom! Boom!” The sound of cannons roared first.

Unlike before, it wasn’t just the Sixth Army’s artillery firing—cannons from the Fifth Army were also bombarding the German positions relentlessly.

Outside, the cacophony of artillery was unceasing. Inside, the engine’s constant roar drowned out everything else, muted further by the thick steel plating. Matthew could no longer hear any other sound.

After waiting a few minutes, Matthew saw a signal flag waving in his observation slit. It was the infantry signaling him. They had tied the flag to a long, curved pole, enabling them to direct the tank from the side—indicating when to halt or advance.

Pressing the accelerator and pulling the lever, Matthew launched the tank forward with a thundering lurch.

Emerging from cover, Matthew was stunned by the sight ahead. A white haze of smoke and dust blanketed the entire area, shrouding the Marne Bridge so thoroughly that only its vague outline could be discerned.

So this was Charles’ plan?

Matthew cursed inwardly. Did this guy even consider the driver’s visibility? If not for Matthew’s familiarity with the terrain, navigating the tank onto the bridge would have been impossible!

But there was one thing Charles got right: the tank was remarkably safe amidst the artillery fire. Shells exploded one after another right in front of him, then gradually moved forward. Matthew carefully controlled the tank’s speed, following the advancing barrage. He could even hear debris clattering against the steel plating with a metallic “ding-ding-dang.”

Suddenly, he was horrified to see a tank nearby engulfed in flames, struck by enemy artillery. Despite this, it continued to crawl forward.

Matthew realized with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t just the tanks—many infantrymen might also be falling to the French artillery fire. French artillery!

His mind felt like mush, his breathing became labored. It was as if he were sleepwalking on the edge of a cliff, only to awaken to realize how perilous his position truly was.

The signal flags instructed the tank to alternately stop and proceed, sometimes gliding smoothly, other times bouncing over uneven ground.

Yves, crouched at the front, fired the machine gun, filling the already murky air in the tank with smoke and acrid gunpowder fumes. The stifling atmosphere made breathing difficult and further obscured Matthew’s vision.

Through the haze, Matthew faintly saw a Maxim machine gun overturned on a trench, surrounded by the bodies of several German soldiers. It struck him suddenly—they had crossed the German ditches and trenches.

Relieved, Matthew understood that no more obstacles lay ahead to “trap” the tank.

Matthew knew this terrain like the back of his hand. He could distinguish roads from solid ground, mud pits that could mire a tank, and even guessed where the enemy command post might be.

Like a fish slipping into the ocean, Matthew felt liberated.

To test his theory, he slammed the accelerator and spun the steering wheel sharply. The tank roared as it veered dramatically.

Yves turned to look at Matthew, his eyes full of doubt. Shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard over the noise, he asked, “Are you veering off course, Matthew?”

“Trust me!” Matthew shouted back confidently. “Now, we’re on the right path!”

...

Von Kluck had established his command post between two hills on the northern bank, accompanied by five M96 77mm field guns.

This location was chosen to counter the French artillery’s superiority.

While other French weapons might be lacking, their 75mm field gun was exceptional. Equipped with a hydraulic recoil mechanism, it could achieve an astonishing rate of up to thirty rounds per minute.

Ironically, this mechanism was a German invention, dismissed by the Krupp company and later sold to France by its frustrated inventor.

Outnumbered and outpaced in artillery firepower, von Kluck positioned his command post and artillery in a blind spot shielded from enemy bombardment.

This placement also enabled his gunners to block the bridge, preventing the enemy’s “iron monsters” and infantry from crossing the Marne Bridge.

“Artillery, prepare!” von Kluck ordered. His well-trained artillery crews swiftly loaded their guns and prepared to fire.

French artillery was already bombarding the bridgehead, but von Kluck remained confident. The “iron monsters” that had defeated the First Regiment would soon appear at the bridgehead, and he was ready to obliterate them.

Suddenly, von Kluck glimpsed a dark shadow through his binoculars.

It was faint, visible only when the flames from the exploding shells began to wane in the smoke-filled air.

Von Kluck froze. He recognized it immediately—it was one of France’s “iron monsters.” They weren’t approaching the bridge; they had already crossed it, concealed by the smoke and artillery fire!

“Those bastards!” von Kluck turned, shouting to his artillerymen, “Fire! Fire immediately!”

“Boom! Boom!” Shells fired in rapid succession, followed by another volley.

Through his binoculars, von Kluck scanned the bridgehead, only to realize in alarm that it was too late. The “iron monsters” had moved beyond the artillery’s range, and all the shells fell behind them.

“How did they cross the ditches and trenches?” von Kluck was baffled. In the previous battle, these machines couldn’t traverse trenches, but now they moved as if gliding over flat ground.

No one answered him—no one knew the answer.

The frontline German soldiers were once again terrified by the “iron monsters,” retreating as the French army advanced behind them, cutting into the German flank like a dagger.

“Aim for those things!” von Kluck desperately ordered his artillerymen.

But targeting moving tanks with field guns was no easy feat. The artillery relied on firing large quantities of shells to cover an area rather than hitting specific moving targets.

The French tanks scattered after crossing the bridge, leaving von Kluck’s five field guns unable to focus on a single objective.

An experienced battlefield commander, von Kluck remained calm under pressure. After a moment’s thought, he issued two commands:

“Reserve Battalion, form a defensive line at the valley mouth!”

“Artillery, adjust fire to two hundred meters ahead of the valley mouth!”

The valley, flanked by two hills, narrowed to barely thirty feet at its tightest point. If the “iron monsters” entered the valley, they would be trapped and destroyed by concentrated artillery fire.

As the reserve battalion and artillery prepared for the ambush, an unexpected clatter came from a narrow mountain trail behind them. A French tank suddenly appeared, pausing briefly before barreling down the slope with a cheer of “Woo-hoo!” faintly audible from inside.

The tank charged forward, its machine guns blazing, mowing down over a dozen artillerymen on the spot.

The remaining artillery crews fled in panic. They weren’t willing to stand their ground against such “iron monsters”—how could flesh and blood compete?

Shaken by this turn of events, the reserve battalion abandoned their defensive line and rushed to protect von Kluck.

“General!” the reserve battalion commander suggested. “We must retreat! This position is untenable!”

What he truly meant was: if you don’t leave now, you’ll become the highest-ranking German officer captured or killed!

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