The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943-Chapter 134 - 144: Germans, Watch My STG44

"Tanks!"

A shrill cry echoed across the battlefield. A roaring Panther tank rolled into the town. With a thunderous blast, a roadside house was blown sky-high, and wounded soldiers in the rubble groaned in pain.

On the first day at Bastogne, the real battle wasn’t in Neffe, but further south in Wardin. Here, the Germans had deployed the Falsch Group—centered around the 130th Panzer Reconnaissance Training Battalion. Not only did they have the best equipment, but they were also staffed with the most seasoned veterans, making them the undisputed elite. From the outset, the Germans unleashed a torrent of firepower on the town.

In less than half an hour, under the pounding of 105mm and larger shells, the town was reduced to ruins. For hours, the task force stationed here had stubbornly resisted the German assault from amidst the rubble.

A violent explosion brought down an entire wall. Under cover of a Panther tank, dozens of German soldiers, weapons at the ready, cautiously moved into the town. The Panther’s powerful guns blasted away at the buildings where the defenders hid, forcing the soldiers to fight back tenaciously from the debris.

As the smoke had yet to clear, Ding Ren, eyes fixed on the Panther, crouched low and darted out from behind a fence, an RPzB 60 (Panzerschreck) in hand. The moment he emerged, the German infantry covering the tank spotted him and unleashed a burst of submachine gun fire. As the bullets struck his chest, he went down instantly.

The violent impact felt like a hammer pounding his chest over and over, leaving him breathless.

"I’m... still... alive..."

Lying on the ground, Ding Ren didn’t check his chest for wounds. Instead, he lay motionless among the rubble, eyes wide open, playing dead.

I’m still alive!

The pain from the impact made it clear to Ding Ren that he was still alive. He lay there, feeling the earth tremble—the tremor of the Panther tank rolling ever closer. Dust and debris shook loose from the ruins as he peered through a crack in the rubble, watching the Panther draw nearer and nearer.

100 meters!

80 meters!

60 meters!

Within range!

But—

Guo Dingren didn’t rush to open fire. Instead, he continued to wait—after all, the Panzerfaust 60 had a range of only 60 meters. The closer the target, the higher the chance of hitting the tank.

At this moment, what mattered most was patience. Of course, he also needed a moment to catch his breath; after all, he’d just taken a few shots to the chest, and that feeling was truly unbearable.

A little closer, just a little closer...

As Dingren watched expectantly, the Panther tank drew nearer and nearer—so close that he could even make out the faces of the German soldiers nearby, even the color of their eyes.

When the tank was about 30 meters away, he, lying on the ground, flipped open the Panzerfaust 60’s iron sight, suddenly stood up, and pressed the launcher’s trigger, aiming at the tank.

The moment the rocket was fired, amid the burst of flames, the German soldiers froze in shock. Clearly, they hadn’t expected the dead to rise again. They had just hit this guy—how could he still stand up?

While they were still in shock, the rocket struck the tank. The violent explosion knocked the nearby Germans to the ground. Flames burst from the side of the once-rampaging tank, and then smoke began to pour from the hatch.

As the tank came to a halt, a burst of intense gunfire erupted all around. Dingren, meanwhile, rolled several times among the ruins and once again lay flat behind some rubble. He glanced down at his chest, where his vest had shattered into fragments like broken porcelain, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"It... it really stopped the bullets..."

This vest was nothing short of miraculous.

But right now, Dingren had no time to marvel. The Germans, wielding submachine guns, unleashed a wild barrage at him. Some bullets even struck his chest, but it was like being pounded hard with a hammer—painful, but not fatal.

Without the tank’s support, the German infantry’s assault was hardly worth mentioning. Under the fierce suppressive fire of the task force members, the Germans quickly retreated.

No sooner had Dingren rolled to safety than Squad Leader Xu Shan gave him a hard slap on the shoulder.

"Good job, kid! That shot was dead on. I thought you were a goner..."

Noticing the white fragments on Dingren’s chest, Xu Shan said,

"You really took a bullet, huh?"

From his tone, there was a hint of disbelief.

"Squad leader, this thing really saved my life! Damn, it’s a lifesaver!"

No sooner had Dingren finished speaking than a sharp whistling sound pierced the air.

"Artillery barrage..."

In the next instant, the entire town was engulfed in shellfire.

Death comes in many forms. On the battlefield, there are always sacrifices—if not now, then in the future.

That night, during the sixth round of shelling, even with the protection of his ballistic plate, Dingren was struck in the carotid artery by shrapnel. Clutching his neck and convulsing, he died quickly, without even a chance for rescue.

That night, the defenders at Walding showed the Germans just how far a single charge could get them—they repelled six attacks, including a night assault, leaving over a hundred German bodies and seven tanks behind.

Upon learning that his Pharos battlegroup had suffered such devastating losses, General Bayerlein, the division commander, was left questioning reality. He had to confirm the numbers several times before he could believe the losses. What was supposed to be a straightforward objective, taken in a single charge, had now resisted repeated assaults.

But what truly made him question reality?

It was the almost surreal feeling that he wasn’t facing American troops, but Germans!

The enemy at Bastogne was actually using German weapons!

Not only did they have MG42s, but also plenty of the STG44 assault rifles—so many that nearly every man had one, even though these were in short supply within the German army itself.

What’s more, even their anti-tank weapons were Panzerfaust 60s.

Even their artillery was German-made!

"So we’ve basically become their supply officers..."

What’s the most painful thing in the world?

It’s fighting the enemy, only to find they’re using your own weapons—more of them, and in better condition than yours.

Though Bayerlein was shaken, the battle had to go on.

At dawn the next day, the thunder of a barrage shattered the morning calm. The earth groaned, the ruins of the town trembled, and bricks and gravel rained down. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

Xu Shan directed the machine gunners to drag the MG42 into the ruins of a café, everyone huddled in the corners.

Ten minutes later, the shelling still hadn’t stopped. Shells screamed through the thick smoke and fog, and the booming explosions rocked all of Walding. The fierce bombardment nearly leveled the entire town.

Zhang Chen, covering his ears, lay in the rubble. Choking dust filled his open mouth. Amid the deafening blasts, he heard his comrade’s shout:

"The Germans—they’re coming up!..."

A burst of assault rifle fire drowned out the alarm, and short, sharp bursts echoed among the ruins. Muzzle flashes flickered in the dusty haze, accompanied by shouts in German.

Behind the swirling dust, indistinct German soldiers desperately fired their submachine guns and rifles at the defenders lying among the ruins. Some defenders shouted, some fired their assault rifles into the dust-choked street, while others calmly suppressed the Germans with controlled bursts.

Compared to the defenders, the Germans’ firepower was clearly weaker. Though some of them also carried assault rifles, the vast majority—

Most of the weapons were still K98 rifles and MP40 submachine guns. After all, the limited number of German StG44 assault rifles had to be distributed across the entire front line.

Thanks to the "gifts" from hundreds of thousands of German soldiers, the task force obtained more than 20,000 assault rifles. With insufficient manpower, they made up for it with firepower. Naturally, Pierre kept these weapons, making the task force the only army of this era to be fully equipped with assault rifles.

Benefiting from the firepower advantage of the assault rifles, they were able to repel German attacks time and again.

Bullets fired by the Germans’ submachine guns struck the brick walls, whizzing over everyone’s heads, but were quickly suppressed by the accurate and fierce firepower of the assault rifles.

Xu Shan leapt out of the window and fell to the ground. Crawling towards a shell crater, he gulped down the dust swirling in the air. Behind him, a machine gunner was spraying bullets at the swarming Germans. On both sides of the ruins, soldiers were also firing their assault rifles in a wild barrage.

For a moment, the entire town was filled with the sounds of gunfire, shouting, and grenade explosions.

"Our artillery, where’s our artillery?"

Xu Shan shouted loudly.

Just as his words fell, a series of dull whistling sounds rang out, and a string of mortar shells landed among the Germans. The violent explosions sent smoke and dust flying, along with the Germans caught in the blast...

On the second day at Bastogne, the German attack was once again repelled, but the reinforcements promised by the Americans had still not arrived. In fact, the 101st Airborne Division was still living it up in Reims, while the military police were dragging paratroopers out of bars and off women’s beds one by one. Sometimes, you really can’t count on your allies...