Even a Little Sparrow Has Great Wisdom

"Leutnant, we've lost two soldiers—Mendy and Tock..."

The lieutenant's face was somber. The glimmer of hope that had just begun to rise had been completely extinguished by the tragic deaths of their comrades.

Logan was also stunned. He had only been with these paratroopers for less than two days, and he hadn't even memorized all their names. But when lives that had been so vibrant just minutes ago were suddenly snuffed out, his mood plummeted.

BOOM!

A bomb landing nearby jolted Logan's heart and snapped him back to reality in an instant: either he could pull himself together and avenge his comrades, or he could join them in heaven. On the battlefield, there was no third option!

"Lent, do you see that gun over there? Do you know how to use it?"

Steffenberg glanced at the small artillery piece not far away, its shield blown open by a gaping hole. "That's a Krupp-produced 35-year-model light anti-tank gun, 37mm caliber. It's lightweight and easy to use, capable of penetrating the armor of armored vehicles and most tanks. Besides being widely used by the Army, it's also supplied to naval fortress units and Luftwaffe paratrooper units! There should be quite a few people here who know how to use it. Hey, Leutnant, I heard you came in second in our division's artillery competition last year!"

"Uh... haha, that's hardly worth mentioning!" Logan replied sheepishly, trying to cover up his ignorance. He hadn't expected "Hans Logan" to have such skills. What a pity he hadn't inherited even a fragment of that memory!

"But this gun isn't much of a threat to a Matilda," Steffenberg said doubtfully.

Logan grinned slyly. "Heh, Leutnant, it's difficult, but not impossible! Now, let's set up a beautiful ambush! Let the British know that the German military isn't just about bombers and tanks!"

"An ambush? Us? Here?" The paratrooper lieutenant looked skeptical, his mind probably filled with question marks.

After explaining his plan, Logan applied the same logic he had been drilling into Student over the past few days to this "weapons encyclopedia": "Of course! Don't forget, paratroopers are the only versatile troops!"

"A versatile troops? Well, God is also omnipotent! Do we have any other choice?"

The lieutenant was clearly more surprised than lacking in confidence. It seemed that no one had ever introduced such a concept to him before. However, Logan could still see a glimmer of unshakable honor and confidence in his eyes, waiting to be ignited—turning the impossible into reality, carving out one's own legacy in war. What an achievement that would be!

"To pull off this tactic effectively, it would be best to have two gun crews providing mutual cover!" Logan scanned the surroundings and finally spotted another group of German gunners and their anti-tank gun behind a nearby armored car. In the chaos of battle, where it was difficult to pinpoint the exact location of enemy tanks, these soldiers fired each shot with precision, making full use of the armored car and the terrain. That was the only reason they had survived longer than the others!

"Take some men, check that anti-tank gun, and gather as many machine guns, submachine guns, grenades, and bullets as possible. I'll go coordinate with them!"

Adjusting his cap, Logan crouched low and darted forward.

※※※

Nearly half an hour had passed since the battle erupted. The Germans, dazed and battered by relentless shelling, had finally steadied their defense. These battle-hardened veterans, having fought in the Polish campaign, knew how to maximize the effectiveness of their limited weaponry. Using the road and nearby ditches as cover, they had hastily formed a makeshift yet effective linear defense line.

As the Allied infantry emerged from the treeline under the cover of their tanks, the German MG34 machine guns resumed their grim duty as "Hitler's Buzzsaw." Within minutes, a significant number of infantry accompanying the tanks had been cut down. The British Matilda tanks, illuminated by flares, attempted to suppress the German positions with their main guns and machine guns but found themselves struggling. The limited visibility made it nearly impossible to track the ever-shifting German gunners.

Still, the thick armor of the Matilda tanks rendered them impervious to the weapons of ordinary German infantry. As these slow-moving behemoths advanced steadily toward the road, the German defensive line began to falter. Some commanders ordered their men to retreat, while others desperately attempted to stop the British armor with anti-tank grenades—though with little success.

Lying flat in the grass beside the road, Logan pulled a steel helmet over his head. The night was pitch dark, devoid of starlight. The only sources of illumination came from sporadic explosions and burning wreckage. The sharp screech of metal against metal filled the air, and muzzle flashes flickered like fireflies in the darkness. Shadows moved just a few meters ahead—too close for comfort.

Raising his head slightly, Logan spotted a 37mm anti-tank gun lying on its side roughly five meters away. The British must have seen it when they illuminated the road earlier, but they had clearly dismissed it as abandoned or destroyed.

More critically, they had also failed to notice the German paratroopers lying in wait nearby. The road was littered with corpses—at least two hundred fallen German soldiers, sprawled in every conceivable position. Since the outbreak of the war on the Western Front, perhaps only the Battle of Arras had left the Germans with a worse memory than this.

Three Allied tanks had now reached the road. Logan whispered, "Lent, it's about time we made our move."

Steffenberg puffed out his cheeks as if summoning his last ounce of resolve. After a brief pause, he nodded. "Alright, let's go crazy just this once."

"Everyone, follow my orders!" Logan murmured. The soft clicks of rifle bolts being pulled back echoed in response.

The first of the three British tanks crossed the road and continued southward, where retreating German forces were still putting up resistance. The second halted in the middle of the road and began firing eastward at the German positions, its Vickers machine gun chattering in short, rhythmic bursts. The third tank, meanwhile, advanced westward along the road, spewing fire at German troops gradually withdrawing toward Wormhous. It rumbled past Logan and his men, its massive treads crushing corpses and debris alike. If the driver suddenly decided to veer off the road, the hidden German paratroopers would be turned into nothing more than ground meat.

But fate was on their side—the tank kept its course, rolling away with thirty or so Allied infantry trailing behind. Focused on dodging distant enemy fire, the soldiers paid no mind to the lifeless "corpses" at their feet.

"Now!"

At Logan's shout, he sprang up from his prone position into a crouch, raising his Webley revolver and firing three shots directly at the advancing infantry.

Those three gunshots signaled the German paratroopers to attack. Earlier, they had braved enemy shelling to scavenge two MG34 machine guns, seven MP38 submachine guns, and a supply of grenades. They had even fashioned makeshift Molotov cocktails using fuel canisters—an improvised yet deadly contingency in case more than four enemy tanks rolled onto the road.

Fortunately, the British hadn't employed their armor in a concentrated assault like the Germans typically would. Infantry tanks were, after all, designed to support infantry rather than operate as the main force. By doctrine, the infantry remained the key players in battle, with the tanks serving merely as their escorts.

Gunfire erupted across the road like a violent storm. Bullets tore through the ranks of the Allied infantry, and grenades detonated in rapid succession, their explosions blending into a continuous roar. Flesh and bone were no match for high-velocity projectiles and lethal fragmentation. Within seconds, nearly every enemy soldier within sight had been cut down.

As their comrades decimated the British infantry, Steffenberg and four experienced gunners sprinted toward the overturned anti-tank gun. Under the dim light, they worked together to right the weapon before grabbing the shells they had hidden nearby and rapidly loading the breech.

The gun's barrel swung around, locking onto the third British tank—now a mere ten meters away.

The Matilda I and II tanks boasted impressive frontal armor, even surpassing that of German Panzer IVs. But their rear armor was far thinner—thin enough, in fact, to be penetrated by a high-caliber anti-tank rifle at close range.

Boom!

The shell struck home, and in an instant, the tank erupted in flames. Before Logan and his men could even celebrate, a secondary explosion rocked the battlefield as the tank's ammunition detonated, engulfing the vehicle in a massive fireball.

Mere seconds later, another explosion echoed from the opposite end of the road. The German Army's gunners—also lying in ambush—had fired their own shot. With a near-point-blank hit, they blew apart the first British tank, sending shrapnel and flames tearing through the ranks of the following infantry. Dozens of Allied soldiers were either incinerated or gunned down in the ensuing chaos.

"Faster! Move faster!" Logan barked. "Get the gun turned around—take out that last tank!"

The remaining Matilda tank, still positioned in the middle of the road, began rotating its hull to the right while its turret swiveled in a clockwise motion. Its cannon and machine gun were coming into view.

Steffenberg and his crew worked with astonishing speed, swinging the anti-tank gun around and ramming another shell into the breech.

As the tank's main gun settled into position, Steffenberg gave the order.

"Fire!"