Steel Soviet Union

Wittmann couldn't quite remember the last time he fought in a street fight. It seemed like last year in Kharkov, he fought with the Russians for a few shabby streets that had long been turned into ruins?

Maybe, anyway, Wittmann couldn't be sure. At that time, his car was still an ordinary Tiger instead of the current King Tiger.

As time went by, the location of the battle, his car, and the enemies he faced all changed. This really made Wittman feel like he was in another world for a moment, as if he was in another world now. A completely different war than before.

But the fact is that this is essentially the same war. The war has never been paused or interrupted since it broke out. This also makes Wittmann, who has been fighting all the way from the beginning of the blitz against Europe to this day, feel a sense of suddenness. Exhausted physically and mentally.

"It's been too long, it's been too long! I don't know when this battle will end!"

The roaring German steel behemoths, spraying black smoke, had arrived at the entrance where the Allied forces had just retreated. The SS infantry following Wittmann were obviously experienced and quickly occupied the nearest areas of the street in an already familiar offensive formation. The two houses controlled the key entrance buildings and established a commanding height for crossfire.

Even if the Allied forces counterattack now to prevent them from entering the city, under the brutal crossfire of MG42, there will only be corpses covering the streets. Controlling this entry point directly connected to the Allied rear was equivalent to opening an offensive channel, which was crucial for the next operation.

The U.S. troops who retreated in a hurry were obviously in a hurry. They didn't even have time to take away their wounded.

"A few dead Americans and some Americans who were about to die were left on the table bleeding and screaming randomly. They didn't even have time to bandage their wounds. Do we want to deal with them?"

The No. 007 King Tiger tank, painted in summer two-color tiger stripe camouflage, was parked beside the building. The SS company commander who had just come out of the building asked with his MP40 submachine gun on his shoulder. With only his head and shoulders exposed, Wittmann was looking back and forth with a telescope outside the turret. He quickly put down what he was holding and turned around to speak.

"It's not necessary, just leave it alone. We are not here to kill casualties, let alone the Holy Mother."

"We will open the way in front later, and you and your people will follow us to cover. Just follow the coordinated formation we rehearsed before. We will clear out all exposed firepower points. You only need to rush in and kill those allies. Is it okay to clear out military trash and buildings?”

Street fighting is a super meat grinder that grinds blood and flesh. No matter how elite the troops are engaged in street fighting, they will be ground into mincemeat quickly at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The commander of the SS infantry company under Wittmann's order could already smell the coming strong smell of blood in the air.

But to be honest, he was unwavering and not afraid at all. Wingdings: ♦︎♦︎⬧︎♦︎◆︎⌧︎♦︎♦︎□︎❍︎

Those cowards of the Wehrmacht have reason to behave cowardly on the battlefield, but they, the elite armed SS, are the pro-army of the Führer. At all times on the battlefield, they must demonstrate combat effectiveness that scares the enemy and strictly demand themselves, just like the meaning explained by their skull collar badges.

"No problem, I know what to do."

"Besides, you'd better retract your head. If I were a Yankee sniper, I would definitely shoot the head exposed outside the tank first. This is much more valuable than a two-legged infantryman carrying a broken gun."

The SS company commander walked away with a half-burned cigarette in his mouth, leaving his advice and somewhat hunched back in Wittmann's sight.

Wittmann, who was accustomed to field combat, did not pay much attention to this detail. The probability of encountering enemy snipers in street fighting was much higher than in field combat. No matter how good the vision is, one should not risk his life. After understanding this truth, Wittmann immediately reached out to close the hatch, returned to the car, and at the same time gave orders to the driver, Sergeant Heinrich.

"Let's start, Heinrich. Attack along the road towards the town and get us out of here."

The King Tigers, which were spraying thick black smoke, once again set out on the road with a powerful roar. Wittmann, who was holding the commander's periscope in the turret, could clearly hear the fierce roar even through the thick turret bulkhead armor. The sound of firefights was coming from the central area of ​​the town not far ahead.

Listening to the sound of the exchange of fire, it seemed that the Allied forces in the city were fighting fiercely with Enschel and his party. Wittmann, who was eager to help Enschel, added another order.

"Change gears, Heinrich! Increase the speed!"

"Hey! Can you hear me!? This is Scarecrow No. 5. We encountered a powerful German heavy armor attack and suffered heavy losses! The battle in town A was blocked, and we were about to be attacked from two sides! The situation was almost out of control. ! We need naval gun support, carrier-based aircraft support, everything right now!"

Major Jackson, who hurriedly led his team to retreat into the city, finally got what he dreamed of: a walkie-talkie that was like a life-saving straw. However, the reply that came immediately from the other end of the walkie-talkie made him so angry that he wanted to curse on the spot.

"No, Scarecrow No. 5! All carrier-based aircraft formations have combat missions. Your position is at a dangerous distance, and naval guns cannot provide support! I repeat, naval gun support cannot be provided at dangerous distances, and the shells will most likely fall. On your heads! The accuracy of the bombardment cannot be guaranteed!"

? ? ?

Farke! Are you navy bastards hooligans or idiots! ?

Major Jackson, who wanted to smash the phone in his hand on the spot, finally couldn't bear it and let the destroyers eight battles away fire towards the town with various buildings and different heights to support it. It's not realistic either.

What's more, our own living space has been compressed to such a small area, and we are already in close combat with the Germans. There is really no guarantee that the shells will hit anyone's head. The navy probably doesn't want to take this responsibility.

The carrier-based aircraft that could accurately block the streets with air strike firepower still had combat missions and could not provide support. Major Jackson, who responded to calls every day and was unable to respond to calls from the ground, had never felt so powerless and helpless as he did now.

Just when Major Jackson was using his brain to think of a solution, the wooden door of the room was suddenly pushed open from the outside and someone violently broke in, followed immediately by a panicked shout.

"Major! The Germans are coming from behind. We can't deal with their monster tanks! We can't hold on quickly."

boom--

Before the young officer with the Thompson submachine gun on his shoulder could finish speaking, a shell from an unknown source exploded on the outer wall of the corridor outside the door.

The huge explosion shock wave and the rising flames swept away the dust and debris, and sprayed out a violent earth dragon directly in the corridor, which was deafening.

When the disgraced Major Jackson struggled to get up from the ground again, the second lieutenant who had just loudly reported to him had been blown into two pieces, and his upper body fell to a place a few steps away from him. The blood dripping is shocking.

The wide eyes and long mouth of a dead fish were full of unwillingness. Major Jackson, who had no time to pay attention to the dead man, was quite ruthless. He grabbed the Thomson on the table next to him and pulled the gun. , waved the gun on the spot.

"Everyone who can still move, follow me! Surrender is not in the dictionary of the Dahong First Division!"