The crew of this vehicle possessed power [music] that no Vermached tank commander could match. They could destroy any Allied tank from several kilometers away. The enemy was turned into a burning torch before they even had time to hear the sound of the shot. It was an 88 mm sniper rifle capable of piercing armor.

But engineers paid a terrible price for this divine power. They were protected by only 10 mm of steel. Any shrapnel, any stray bullet could turn the combat compartment into a mass grave. This is the story of the most cynical compromise of World War II, a machine called the Rhino with a paper skin.

 To understand how the Reich’s engineers came to such a paradoxical decision, we need to go back four years. It was the summer when the Vermach first encountered tanks that it could not counter. In the summer of 1941, during the first weeks of Operation Barbar Roa, German anti-tank crews encountered an enemy they could not kill.

 The shells of the 37 mm Pack 36 bounced off the sloped armor of the T34, leaving only melted grooves and shallow dents. The crews rolled their guns into direct [music] aim, fired point blank, and watched their shells ricochet without causing any damage. The situation was even worse with the heavy KV1. To penetrate its armor, it was necessary to get within 150 or 200 m, [music] a distance from which the Soviet 76 mm gun would have long since turned the [music] German crew into burning wreckage.

Anti-tank gunners had to make a suicidal approach, knowing that most of them would die [music] before they could fire a single effective shot. There were cases when crews fired their entire ammunition load at a single KV without achieving a single penetration. What was happening was not a tactical nuisance or a local problem for individual units.

 It was a systemic crisis that called into question the very logic of the Blitzkrieg because a war machine that is incapable of destroying enemy tanks ceases to be [snorts and clears throat] a war machine. Plans for the future were already on the drawing boards in Castle and Nuremberg. The Tiger and [music] Panther promised to change the balance of power.

 But tanks don’t appear on command. It takes years to develop, test, set up, production, and train crews. And the front demanded an answer immediately here and now. And then the Vermach’s armaments department asked a question that would change the fate of hundreds of crews. What if we took the most potent weapon already in our arsenal and mounted it on something that could move under its own power? The idea was not entirely new.

 In North Africa, Irwin Raml had already turned anti-aircraft guns into weapons against tanks. He lined up 88 mm flack 18 in the likely directions of British attacks, camouflaged them in the folds of the terrain, and waited. When the Matildas and Crusaders came within range, the anti-aircraft guns opened fire directly.

The results were devastating. British tankers accustomed to their armor withstanding German [music] anti-tank shells suddenly found their vehicles bursting into flames one after another from guns they were used to seeing aimed at the sky. However, an anti-aircraft gun remained an anti-aircraft gun. A tall silhouette on a bulky gun carriage visible for miles.

 A crew of 11, completely exposed to shrapnel and bullets. A long time to deploy from a marching position to a combat position. For the desert, where you could choose your positions and prepare ambushes in advance, it [music] still worked. For mobile warfare on the Eastern Front, something else was needed. The new PAC 43 anti-tank gun solved some of these problems.

 Specially designed to combat tanks, it had a lower profile and a flat trajectory [music] optimized for firing at ground targets. Its armor penetration reached 200 mm at a distance of 1 km, guaranteeing the destruction of any existing [music] or prospective enemy tank. But the gun weighed almost 5 tons. It was impossible to roll it through the Russian mud by hand.

 and towing it required powerful tractors which were always in a short supply. In February 1942, the Berlin-based company Alit received an order that would determine the fate of hundreds of crews. The task was to mount the PAC 43 on a self-propelled track chassis assembled from whatever was available. The Tiger had not yet left the prototype stage.

The Panther existed only on paper. All that remained were the Vermach’s workh horses, the Panzer 3 and Panzer 4 medium tanks, which factories were producing by the hundreds. Alcat engineers created a hybrid. The width of the hull, transmission, and steering were borrowed from the Panzer 3 because it was wider.

The engine, suspension, [music] and tracks were taken from the Panzer 4. The result was a chassis capable of carrying a 5-tonon gun with a barrel over 6 m long. But to accommodate the gun and crew, the engine had to be moved from the rear to the center of the vehicle, freeing up the rear of the hull.

 And tostay within the permissible weight and maintain the mobility of a medium tank, something had to be sacrificed. The engineers made a choice that would determine the fate of everyone who sat in this vehicle. In October 1942, the prototype was presented to Hitler who was pleased. The vehicle named the Hornet was approved for mass production. The first units rolled off the assembly line at the Deutsche Eisenberka factory in Templas Sha, Czech Republic in January of the following year.

The decision made by Alcat engineers was both ruthless and straightforward. [music] The combat compartment in the rear had an open top and armor only 10 mm thick on the sides. This was enough to protect the crew from shrapnel and rifle bullets, nothing more. The front of the hull where the driver and radio operator sat [music] was protected by 30 mm of steel, but the gun crew was covered only by a thin wall.

 The logic behind this decision was coldly pragmatic. The PAC 43/1 L/71 gun itself weighed about 2 tons with a combat load of 40 shells, five crew members, and a hybrid chassis. The vehicle weighed 24 tons. Add normal armor by medium tank standards, [music] and you get a 40tonon monster that will get stuck in the first spring thaw and break any bridge.

 It was neither a tank nor an assault gun. It was a mobile anti-tank [music] gun on tracks. Its protection was not armor, but distance. Destroy the enemy from 2 km away, and you won’t need 100 mm of steel around you. The gun was worth it. It was a variant of the same weapon that would later appear on the Tiger 2, Ferdinand, and Jack Panther.

 The standard PasGar 3943 armorpiercing shell could penetrate 167 mm [music] of armor at a distance of 1 kilmter. The subcaliber tungsten PEZGR 40/43 with a tungsten [music] carbide core could penetrate 190 mm. The trajectory was so flat that it was possible to fire at a range of up to 900 m with virtually no distance correction.

The gunner aligned the crosshairs of the sight with the target and pulled the trigger, knowing that the shell would go exactly where he was aiming. To understand the scale of superiority, it is enough to compare these figures with the enemy’s armor. The T34’s frontal plate was 45 mm thick.

 The heavy KV1 had 75. Even the IS-2, which would appear later and become the most heavily armored Soviet tank of the war, had frontal armor only 120 mm thick. All of them were within the range of certain destruction. The crew consisted of five people. The driver and a radio operator were located in the front in closed armored compartments with hatches and viewing slits.

 They were the only ones who had complete protection. The commander, gunner, and loader were located in the rear combat compartment, surrounded by thin armor plates and open at the top. Above their heads was only the sky, and in bad weather, a canvas awning that protected them from rain and snow, [music] but not from shrapnel. The gun barrel, more than 6 m long, protruded far forward, and the vehicle itself towered over the battlefield by almost 3 m, making it visible from a distance and extremely difficult to camouflage.

By the summer of 1943, the first Hornese battalions were fully manned and ready for combat. Six heavy anti-tank battalions [music] numbered 560-655,525, 93,519, and 88 received 45 vehicles each. Almost immediately, they were thrown into the thick of the fighting where the fate of the Eastern Front was being decided.

 The Kursk Bulge. Operation Citadel became the largest tank battle in human history. The Vermacht gathered everything it had. New Tigers, capricious panthers with their burning engines [music] and heavy Ferdinands. And for the first time, the Hornets went into battle, which had to prove the viability of the mobile open top [music] tank destroyer concept.

 The Kursk step proved to be the ideal arena. an open plane with rolling hills, visibility for many kilometers, no forests, no gorges, [music] no urban development. The vehicles of battalion 560 took up positions on the southern face of the ark. And when the Soviet tanks launched a counterattack, the crews found themselves in the kind of battle they had been trained for.

 T34s were destroyed at distances of 2 kilometers and beyond without even realizing where the fire was coming from. KV1S, which 2 years earlier had seemed invulnerable, were destroyed by the first hit. Reports came in of tanks being destroyed from three and even 4,000 m away at the limit of direct visibility.

 Korsk proved the concept’s viability, but at the same time determined its curse. Success meant that hornesses would now be deployed wherever anti-tank power was needed, including places where there were no open steps [music] and where distance was no longer protection. In December 1943, a powerful Soviet offensive unfolded near Viteps.

The Vermach’s third Panzer army was retreating under the blows of superior forces and the command threw all available reserves into battle. It was then that Lieutenant Albert Ernst,commander of the first company of the 500 19th heavy anti-tank battalion made his mark on history. Ernst joined the army in 1930 enlisting in the Reichvare at 18 from Wolsburg.

By the start of the war, he was already an experienced soldier trained in armored vehicles and anti-tank weapons. He destroyed his first tank in September 1939 during the Polish campaign in the battle on the Bzora River for which he received the Iron Cross Secondass. Now 4 years into the war, he commanded a platoon of the Vermach’s most powerful tank destroyers.

 On the 23rd of December, Soviet tanks attacked in waves, trying [music] to break through the German defenses. Arens and his crew took up a camouflage position on the outskirts of a village and opened fire at maximum range. In one day, they destroyed 14 tanks using only 21 shells. Their hit rate was almost 70%. An exceptional result, even for an experienced crew.

 By the end of December, Ernst had destroyed 19 vehicles. On 22nd January 1944, he received the Knight’s Cross for 55 confirmed victories, [music] including 25 tanks and numerous anti-tank guns. The soldiers nicknamed him the Tiger of Viteps, although he fought in a rhino. By the end of the war, his personal [music] tally would reach 75 destroyed vehicles.

 In March 1945, when the Third Reich was already collapsing under the blows of the Allies from the west and the Red Army [music] from the east, Lieutenant Beckman of Battalion 88 fired a shot that would become one of the longest in [music] the history of anti-tank artillery. In the Marsdorf area, his gunner spotted a Soviet IS-2, a heavy tank with 120 mm frontal armor.

The distance was 4,600 m, almost 5 km. At such a distance, [music] the tank becomes a speck on the horizon, and any air turbulence or error in determining the distance will send the shell past the target. Beckman adjusted the site, taking into account the trajectory drop at such a distance, and gave the order to fire.

 The hit was accurate, and the [music] IS-2 was left burning in the middle of the field. In Italy, in entirely different conditions, NCO Anton Croitzberg of the second company of Battalion 525 distinguished himself. The Monty Casino area had nothing in common with the Russian steps. It was hilly terrain with narrow valleys between mountain ranges and the ruins of an ancient monastery in a mountain.

 Here the Nazhorn could not use its main advantage because the combat distance rarely exceeded a few hundred meters. But Croittsburg adapted to the conditions using the terrain’s folds for camouflage and choosing positions with the maximum possible firing sector. By May 1944, he had destroyed 34 tanks, and in September of the same year, he received the Knight’s Cross.

 All these people were united by an understanding of one principle, which they had learned from their own experience. Their vehicle was not designed for close combat and head-on collisions. Choosing a position, careful camouflage despite the vehicle’s size, one or two accurate shots at an unsuspecting [music] enemy, and then an immediate change of position before the enemy could determine where the fire was coming from.

 Distance was their only armor, and stealth was their only chance of survival. However, war does not allow you to choose [music] the conditions of battle. After Kursk, three battalions were transferred [music] to Italy, where the hilly terrain and narrow valleys between the mountain ranges deprived the vehicle of its main advantage.

 The enemy would appear around a bend in a mountain road or emerge from the ruins of a destroyed house, and the battle would unfold over hundreds of meters rather than kilome. Surviving photographs of vehicles destroyed in Italy show what enemy fire did to them at such a distance. Shells tore out entire sections of the rear combat compartment, leaving jagged edges where people had been a second ago.

There is a known case in which the commander of an infantry unit ordered a Nazorn platoon to attack positions behind [music] which 20 or 30 Soviet tanks were hidden. To do this, they had to travel 2 kilometers across open terrain under enemy fire. The platoon commander refused to carry out the order because he understood his vehicle better than the infantry officer.

 The Naz Horn was a sniper rifle, not an assault weapon. But not all commanders understood this difference, and not [music] all crews had the opportunity to refuse. By 1944, a threat had emerged against which there was no defense. The Allies had gained air superiority, and now American P47s, British Typhoons, and Soviet illus were hunting down any German equipment.

For a tank with a closed turret, [music] strafing was a dangerous nuisance. For the Nazhorn with its open top, it meant death. The pilot would dive in and large caliber bullets [music] would pierce the thin sides and enter the unprotected fighting compartment [music] unhindered. The crew had no choice but to jump out and seek cover. Technical problemsexacerbated the situation.

 The centrally mounted Maybach engine chronically overheated and breakdowns on the march were a regular occurrence. The gun’s locking mechanism allowed play during movement, causing it to stray from its line of sight and requiring readjustment after each march. The Naz Horn was designed for one specific scenario, open terrain, distance, and a competent commander.

 The further the war strayed from this scenario, the higher the losses became. And yet the vehicle continued to fight until the last days of the Reich. That very shot in the suburbs of Cologne on the 6th of March, 1945 became [music] its previous triumph and at the same time a symbol of its paradoxical fate. The Nazorn destroyed the latest American tank from a distance of 250 m, which was practically pointblank range for this machine.

 A distance at which its own thin armor would not have protected it from anything. A machine designed for combat at two or three kilometers entered history thanks to a shot fired almost point blank at the enemy. [music] A month later on the 16th of April 1945, the final scene of another story unfolded in the small town of Iserlon.

Hopman Albert Ernst, the Tiger of Viteps, was by then commanding a company in the 512th heavy anti-tank battalion, which was armed with huge Yag Tigers, the heaviest armored vehicles of the war. Resistance was pointless. The war was ending, and [music] Ernce decided to surrender. He surrendered to the Americans along with his unit.

 American officers learning of his combat record and awards offered him his freedom. He could leave, leaving behind the war and captivity. Errenst refused. He preferred to go to a prisoner of war camp with his soldiers because he did not consider it possible to abandon the people he commanded. 75 vehicles destroyed during the war, the knight’s cross around his neck, and the choice to stay with his people until the end.

 According to available data, Albert Ernst survived captivity [music] and lived to a ripe old age, taking with him the memory of the snowy fields near VBSK and the roar of the 88 mm gun. Of the 494 Naz horns built, only three have [music] survived to this day. One is in an American armored vehicle collection in Aniston, Alabama.

 The second is in Patriot [music] Park near Moscow, where it was transported from the Kubanka Tank Museum. The third belongs to a private collector in the Netherlands. It was assembled from parts found in the Clinengrad area and restored to complete working order. However, in 2019, the vehicle was severely damaged in a garage fire [music] and restoration work is still ongoing.

 Three Naz horns out of nearly 500. Iron witnesses to a concept that worked flawlessly as long as conditions remained right. When the Nasshorn was put into production, it was officially called a temporary solution, a stop gap that was to be replaced by real vehicles as soon as the industry could cope with their production.

 The Yag Panzer 4 with its low silhouette and 60 mm frontal armor was supposed to make the fragile Naz Horn obsolete. [music] However, production of the Naz Horn continued until March 1945. 16 vehicles rolled off the assembly line in the final months of the war when the Reich was already falling apart. The temporary solution outlived many of those that were intended to be permanent.

 This vehicle represents a story of compromise and the price that must be paid for quick decisions. Alcat engineers created a weapon capable of destroying any enemy tank at a [music] range beyond the return fire. Still, they protected the crew with steel thinner than the wall of a saucepan. The men sitting behind the 88 mm gun accepted these conditions because they had no other choice.

 They learned to fight in a machine that did not forgive mistakes. Distance became their armor. The right choice of position became their cover. and the ability to disappear after a few accurate shots became the only guarantee of surviving to the next battle. Over the years of the war, 494 vehicles left the factory gates, [music] and in each of them, five men entrusted their lives to thin steel plates and their own skill.

 They could destroy any tank at a distance where the enemy could not respond. But every day they understood a simple truth. A stray shot from the sky, a random piece of shrapnel, one wrong order, and the glass hammer would shatter.