Chapter 58
The Demons of Amiens (6)
At the very front of the German 208th Division, while the stormtroopers and the 185th Regiment were spilling blood in the forest to secure a retreat route against Eisenhower’s 369th Regiment—
the tanks of the U.S. 93rd Division, charging forward with terrifying momentum, finally engaged the enemy for the first time.
“Enemy spotted ahead!”
“Wipe them out!”
“KILL!!”
From the beginning, the 208th Division had been rushing headlong toward Amiens, brushing aside what they believed to be the “unwilling resistance” of American forces.
They were obsessed solely with speed, and naturally, they were completely unprepared for battle.
The result came back to them as a catastrophe of steel.
“It’s time to follow the division commander’s orders! Crush them all!”
“KILL! KILL!”
“Guaaagh!!”
They hurriedly tried to prepare for anti-tank combat, but in reality, proper anti-tank warfare was something only stormtroopers could manage in the German army.
They had been marching across open plains without even trenches, focused only on rapid advance—
and now they had run into tanks.
No matter how desperately they fired their rifles, the heavy tanks sprayed machine-gun fire without restraint, and the German soldiers standing exposed in the grass were torn apart one by one.
The artillery they had hastily dragged in was shredded before it could even aim, and what greeted those left defenseless was overwhelming submachine-gun fire.
“Fire!”
“Look over there! Jerries everywhere! At this rate, you could pull the trigger with your dick and still hit something! Just shut up and keep firing!”
There was nothing they could do.
What on earth had the division command been thinking?
They should have realized it the moment they were ordered to abandon formation and advance blindly across this open field!
In the end, the German troops fell into panic and fled in all directions, a disgrace unworthy of their so-called invincible reputation.
Thus, the 65th Reserve Regiment under the 185th Brigade of the 208th Division was shattered to pieces.
Watching this unfold, Yujin shook his head.
“Ignore the small fry.”
“Sir?”
“Drive them off roughly and keep moving! We’re not doing this just to butcher a few grunts!”
“This is exactly why I came along,” Yujin muttered.
“We leave the rear to the 371st Regiment! We’re heading straight for division headquarters!”
“You mean… we’re continuing without even disarming them?”
“Of course. We barely seized this golden opportunity at the cost of Moherui. It’s not worth it just to kill a few of them.”
Clicking his tongue, Yujin pulled a cigarette from his pack and snatched the map from Haji’s hand.
The reckless charge of the 208th Division had already yielded far greater gains than expected.
But human nature being what it is—once you win big, you start wanting more.
If things went well—no, if they went really well—they wouldn’t just devour the 208th Division; they could shake the entire surrounding front.
A ridiculous opportunity, as if handed down by God.
If Anastasio had been sent alone, he would have drawn the line at a reasonable point and reformed the lines. That was the limit of a major’s judgment.
But Yujin was a division commander.
And in his eyes, he could see a chance to overturn the entire theater.
“Hey, driver.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let’s head over there. That one. Looks like someone important, doesn’t he?”
“And if you get shot—”
“They’re too busy running to shoot. I just want a little one-on-one talk with him.”
The driver, seemingly giving up on thinking altogether, steered the vehicle as ordered.
Yujin grinned and leaned out the window.
“Hey there, guten Tag? Or is it guten Morgen?”
“B-Brigadier General? An Asian??”
“Ah. If you speak French, let’s use that. I’m Yujin Kim, division commander of this unit. I advise you to disarm immediately and surrender all forces.”
“H-how—”
As the regimental commander froze in panic, Yujin’s expression hardened. He drew a gleaming ivory-handled pistol and aimed it at the man’s head.
“Yes or no! Die fighting or die anyway! Choose now!”
“I surrender! I will order all troops to cease combat—please, just stop this massacre!”
“Good. Should’ve done that sooner. Haji, search him—see if he’s got any maps.”
“Are we the U.S. Army or the Mongol horde…?”
Sighing, Haji quickly searched him and pulled out several military maps.
After glancing through them, Yujin’s smile deepened.
“Good. Next objective is here. Listen—our follow-up troops will arrive soon. Hand over your weapons nicely and wait.”
“Excuse me? What did you say?”
“Let’s go! We keep moving! Send runners to division HQ and the brigades—plans have changed!”
“SIR! YES, SIR!”
The surviving German soldiers stared blankly as the American forces disappeared toward the rising sun.
Not long after, they encountered the following U.S. 371st Regiment.
“I’m Major Van Fleet, commander of the 371st Regiment.”
“We’ve already surrendered, so there’s no need for further procedure.”
“You’ve surrendered?”
“Your division commander pointed a pistol at my head and told me to surrender. Are you really Americans? Even the Russians—the descendants of the Tatars—wouldn’t act like this.”
“…Our division commander is a bit… impatient.”
A messenger from division headquarters, who had been with the Germans, handed Van Fleet a written order.
The handwriting was clearly Yujin’s—scribbled in haste. There were even burn marks from a cigarette.
He could roughly guess the situation.
“Very well. The 372nd Regiment is coming up behind us. Stay here and await their guidance.”
“…?”
“We’ve also been ordered to continue the advance. We’ll meet again later. 371st Regiment—continue marching!”
That day, the commander of the 65th Reserve Regiment surrendered three times—
and was abandoned twice.
Cursing his foolish choice not to blow his own head off with Yujin’s pistol, he only gained the status of a prisoner once the 372nd Regiment finally arrived.
***
“The 65th Regiment collapsed? What the hell do you mean?!”
Major General von Groddeck could not believe it.
Two days.
Just two days.
Not even 48 hours had passed.
The stormtroopers and the 165th Regiment at the front had reported “Moherui secured”—and then all contact was lost.
Then suddenly, the 65th Reserve Regiment reported a “large-scale enemy offensive with tanks”—and then went silent as well.
If one couldn’t grasp what the enemy was aiming for at this point, they had no right wearing a star.
“It’s obvious they’re after our heads! Send messengers to the 165th Regiment and tell them to pull back immediately!”
“Could they already be cut off and isolated?”
“Then send every messenger we have left at headquarters if you must! If they sit in Moherui, they’ll be surrounded and wiped out!”
“What about the 25th Regiment?”
“They need to withdraw immediately—…no, we’re going there! This place is too dangerous! Pull back the artillery as well!”
“What should we report to the corps…?”
“……”
Groddeck fell silent, and the staff officers shut their eyes tightly.
How were they supposed to explain this disgrace?
We’re sorry. We were baited. It was all a trap by those Black troops, and we rushed in without realizing?
The corps told us to keep advancing, to push toward Amiens as fast as possible—so why are you shifting the blame now?
From the beginning, we only ran according to orders. This happened because the follow-up units were delayed?
His vision went dark.
No matter what excuse he made, this was simply a mistake.
From now on, his name would remain in textbooks as a byword for incompetent command—the blunder of a fool for generations to come.
It felt as if he had been possessed by a devil.
Why on earth had he made such a foolish decision?
Because of pressure from higher command? Yes—he could shift the blame that way.
But in truth, it was nothing more than greed.
Like a devil whispering promises of glory and wealth into his ear, it had offered him exactly what he desired most—and he had taken the bait without a moment’s hesitation.
And now, that devil was coming to collect its due.
“Not yet… not yet!”
But he shouted defiantly, eyes bloodshot.
The neighboring divisions on both flanks would be advancing in step, and higher command had promised reinforcements to widen the breakthrough.
If they could just hold out a little longer, they could properly annihilate the enemy who had rashly attempted a breakthrough.
A devil?
Don’t be ridiculous.
In the end, Faust was saved. Devils always tempt with sweet offers, but in the end, evil walks away empty-handed—that was the way of the world.
Hope began to rekindle within the staff.
It was too early to despair. After all, the enemy was nothing more than a ragtag American force.
“The enemy is aiming for nothing more than a reckless decapitation strike! As long as we’re here, they’ll come straight to us! Gather every artillery piece we can and prepare direct fire! If we take out the enemy’s lead tank unit in one blow, the battle resets!”
Thud—
The moment Major General von Groddeck slammed his fist onto the table, a faint vibration ran through it.
It wasn’t from the impact.
It felt like… artillery fire—
Thud—
“Enemy tanks have appeared at the front!”
“T-that’s impossible! Impossible! There’s no way they could already be here!”
One staff officer screamed in a shrill, almost possessed voice.
“A-at once! Arm everyone! Cooks, engineers—doesn’t matter! Prepare for close combat immediately!”
“Sir, you must evacuate at once! We’ll prepare a vehicle!”
“Prepare for battle! Prepare for baaatttle!!”
Tat-tat-tat— tat— BOOM—
The sounds were drawing closer.
But this noise was unfamiliar.
Nowhere could the proud weapons of the German army be heard.
“It’s over.”
“What do you mean, sir?!”
“In all my life, I’ve never seen movement this fast. Anyone would think they came by train.”
In those few seconds, Groddeck seemed to age decades, all will drained from him.
Thud.
As he collapsed into his chair, his baton rolled across the floor. No one picked it up.
“We’ve been toyed with. The enemy wasn’t weak. They were just waiting for our forward regiments to charge in disorder. Heh… heh…”
“It’s not over yet! This is just a mad gamble! With the 25th Regiment and reinforcements—”
“Burn the divisional colors.”
“We can still fight!”
“That’s an order. Burn them. I won’t let those Black troops take our proud flag.”
He began to laugh under his breath.
“Heh… heh heh heh…”
“It’s over. Everyone, leave.”
The sounds of battle were now right outside.
Machine guns rattling everywhere. Explosions.
Only the terrible noise of destruction filled the barracks.
“FREEZE!”
“…So, you’ve finally arrived.”
Dozens of Black soldiers poured into the barracks.
The staff clenched their teeth and slowly raised their hands.
The soldiers stepped aside, still holding fuel cans, making way for one man.
“Are you the commander of the German Imperial Army’s 208th Division?”
Young.
No—too young.
A boyish Asian, still with the softness of youth, stared at him with the eyes of a conqueror.
There was no trace of a devil in the one who had proposed this cruel bargain.
“That’s correct.”
“I am Brigadier General Yujin Kim, commander of the U.S. Army’s 93rd Division.”
“I would appreciate being treated with the proper respect.”
“The United States Army does not mistreat prisoners. I accept your surrender.”
Only then did Groddeck’s eyes shift to the rank insignia.
“If it’s not impolite… may I ask your age?”
“I was born in ’93, General.”
“’93…? Younger than my son. Heh… heh… heh…”
“We learned quite a lot at Cambrai. The lesson was so thorough that I decided to apply it this time.”
The times had changed too much.
Groddeck looked out at the distance, where Black soldiers waved his division’s proud flag and roared in victory.
A young Asian.
Black soldiers.
And himself.
Everything he had built in his life had been cast into the mud.
***
Even for the mighty German army, there seemed to be no answer to shattered morale.
Every single one of them looked hollow-eyed, as if they might commit suicide at any moment.
But now they were my precious prisoners—suicide was absolutely not allowed. I still had plenty to squeeze out of them.
Still, charging this far was all well and good… but how exactly were we supposed to get out of here?
Help me, Bradley…
“Good heavens… what on earth… what exactly just happened?”
“It all went as expected. Isn’t substituting mobility for combat power the basics of tactics?”
Haji, who had been growing increasingly skeptical, was starting to look like a fanatic again.
That wasn’t what I meant to do.
But now I had no choice except to puff myself up even more and flaunt this great achievement.
“Soldiers of the 93rd Division! We have done it!”
“Yujin KIM! Yujin KIM!”
“Our savior!!”
“But the battle is not over yet! We are still hungry! We will take more of the Jerries’ heads!!”
“KILLLLL!!”
Now all that remained was to gather these guys and the prisoners—
and head back home safely.
Before the bad men come chasing after us.