Steel Soviet Union

Small-caliber grenades need to be fired accurately to hit targets with earthen bunkers. Otherwise, if a grenade with a caliber too small, such as a 76 mm grenade, is hit, it may only make a sound and be useless.

But similar problems do not exist at all in the 152 Divine Cult. The 152mm high-explosive grenade, which is not a point-based killing but a surface-based killing, has already risen from the level of a person-attacking Noble Phantasm to a city-defying Noble Phantasm.

Just a simple rough aim and rapid shooting, a roaring 152 grenade hit the German position, causing catastrophic consequences in an instant like a raging cloud.

Explosive flames like a stormy sea rose up from the ground almost simultaneously with the instantaneous fall of the cannonball! But what was even more unlucky was that in the early morning, there was a cool wind after the rain blowing on the Prokhorovka grassland. Although the wind speed was not too high, it was definitely not very slight.

Wind helps fire, and fire takes advantage of wind.

The death flames that were already exploding densely were blown by a sudden strong wind, and the terrifying visual effect in the blink of an eye became even more impactful.

Although for the SS soldiers surrounded by flames and blasts of wind, death was only a moment of pain, and it was even difficult to feel.

But there is no doubt that the remains they left behind in this world, that is, the corpses, will still replace the souls that have been forcibly ripped out by the storm and flames, and continue to taste the fire of judgment after committing countless crimes and being stained with the blood of innocent people.

The 152 justice that strikes hastily comes and goes quickly.

And when the continuous wave of flames finally subsided, a wisp of breeze blew away the blazing gunpowder smoke, and all that was left around the huge craters were a bunch of twisted and deformed anti-tanks. Remains of gun parts and body parts.

Anyone who has never seen the battlefield with his own eyes and sees this scene for the first time will probably not be able to tell that the pieces of meat that have been divided into dozens or even hundreds of fragments were at least once a complete person when put together. .

The roaring and fierce bombardment of SU152 is indeed effective. Those brand-new PAK43s that were still relying on their positions to dominate were all muted after this wave of highly targeted fierce bombardment. Can launch.

Through the commander's periscope in front of his hand, Malashenko, who was fighting in his commander's position, could see clearly.

The PAK43 that had just fired two shots at him had been blown to the ground, a wheel flew off, the barrel was twisted into a twist, and even the huge muzzle brake had disappeared. Where was it blown away?

The SS soldiers who were killed on the spot by the 152 grenade and shocked to death, so that they were at the center of the explosion and vaporized into a near-molecular state on the spot. At this moment, they are undoubtedly extremely lucky beings. At least they no longer have to linger in this world. Feeling the final pain of all kinds of torture.

"My legs ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Someone give me a hand and take me away from here, legs! My legs are all gone! Come and help me, please!"

Malashenko, who was tightly protected by thick armor, could not hear the shrill wails of ghosts and wolves.

But the unlucky SS man whose PAK43 was rolled over and pinned directly under the cannon had a distorted expression on his face, and his two claws were flailing and scratching like a demon from hell trying to crawl out of the crack into the world, and he was clinging to life. Taking his last breath and trying to survive, Malashenko could see clearly and completely through the image of the commander's periscope in his hand.

"Look at that German guy, he's as miserable as if his mother was dead, if he really had a mother."

Iushkin, who showed no pretense of sympathy or pity, joked in mockery, as if what fell there was not a human being, but a half-dead animal waiting to be slaughtered. The main gun sight with a high magnification and narrow field of view and pointing in the same firing line allows Iushkin to see all this more clearly and panoramically than Malashenko.

None of the other comrades in the car felt that Iushkin's words were distorted and weird. Even Kirill, the most junior member of the entire 177 crew, a graduate of the music department and easily triggered by the situation, was listening. After Iushkin described it in his mouth, there was no expression of surprise at all.

mercy? kindness? pity?

It is indeed worthy to use the corresponding feelings represented by these beautiful modifiers for human beings, but for this group of people who wear human skin and commit bestiality, even underage girls and old women on crutches will not be spared and must be treated together. Scumbags who were sent to the gallows and hanged in the euphemistic name to serve as a warning to others. Who is qualified to express kindness and sympathy to those innocent civilians who were murdered?

No one would think that the unscrupulous SS soldiers deserved to be treated as prisoners. Depending on their mood, the Americans and British who came from afar might show mercy like throwing two bones.

But in this land, under the Soviet Union under the red flag, the best way to deal with these SS scum is physical eradication. Watching these rubbish that don't deserve to live in the world die in pain, being annihilated and purified by the flames and blasts until not even a scum is left, this is the best compliment to the Red Army soldiers who came one after another to eliminate these beasts.

Reloading the SU152 takes a long time, and Malashenko does not expect to rely on the continuous fire suppression of this thing to allow him to comfortably grind all the way to the position.

As long as we can knock out those PAK43s protected by thick and exquisite earth bunkers, the remaining threats will not be a concern at all. When facing IS2, there is no way to stop a bunch of German sick cats who can't even shoot 50-50. Live in the raging torrent of steel that is approaching.

Looking at the PAK43s that were carefully arranged and thought to be able to play a big role, they were reduced to parts by a group of inconspicuous Russian self-propelled artillery that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Cursing that the Russians opposite had more new equipment than his own, Wittmann ordered the car to stop. The heavy turret driven by the electric steering wheel drove the 88mm main gun to rotate slowly, and it didn't take long before it was aimed at the target. The Russian heavy tank was about to run over the edge of the position.

"Which one should I fight? Michelle!"

There were too many targets within his sight. Even the young gunner, who spoke so hurriedly that he was about to bite his tongue, shouted loudly to the commander Wittmann, the eldest of the entire crew and also a man of rich combat experience. Seeking guidance.

Driven by a knee-jerk reaction, Wittmann wanted to order the attack on the frontmost target first without thinking. From the perspective of giving priority to the biggest threat, doing so was obviously common sense.

But Wittmann, who had a better omnidirectional vision thanks to the commander's command tower, once he saw the steel monster rushing at the front, his frown was even worse than the 7 in the 177 number on the front of the opponent's car. To be more flexible.

Wittmann will never forget that he has made several useless efforts in the direction of Oboyan's frontal breakthrough. The sight of an armor-piercing projectile fired from a distance of one kilometer hitting this monster was simply a step away from him!

Should I continue to try and take the huge risk of failure, or should I go against common sense but win steadily?

For Wittmann, who was already sweating on his forehead and running out of time, this was obviously a difficult problem worthy of serious consideration and enough to determine his own fate.