Steel Soviet Union

"It was destroyed! We destroyed it! That Fascist car was paralyzed, haha!"

"Well done! Guys, keep loading! Quick!"

At a distance of one kilometer, you can't expect to be able to see clearly with the naked eye what the German's broken vehicle was blown into and the damage effect, but clearly seeing a few figures fleeing in panic from the tank that suddenly stopped, this is very important. For humans with normal vision who have neither myopia nor astigmatism, it is not a big problem.

The young artillery crewmen were cheering that the first shell was fired and the victory was achieved with one hit. However, the more mature and steady veteran gunner was much calmer. He was calm and not too happy to cheer, reminding him to proceed. The soldiers below quickly reloaded and took aim.

He knew that the German tanks rushing towards him were far from ready to give up, and it was too early to celebrate victory now.

The heavy cannon battery that scored the first victory as soon as it was discharged performed brilliantly, but this also exposed its position. The Germans, who had been prepared for this situation, quickly started taking action.

"At 11 o'clock, the Russian heavy anti-tank gun, large caliber! Kill it first!"

The orders given by the inter-vehicle radio were naturally not addressed to the tanks that were charging, but to the anti-tank destroyers, or "self-propelled artillery" that were holding the line at the rear.

Using scrap iron men as self-propelled artillery was a "traditional skill" that the Germans had in Kursk. Now it is just a continuation of the old business.

The Scrap Iron Man, who had entered a stationary fighting state, slowly turned the car body. The dual-stream transmission and the unique hard off-road road surface in winter made it easier to complete the aim. This heavy and huge turret-less armored behemoth soon took aim. The muzzle of the black long 88 main gun was aimed at the target.

"Enemy anti-tank gun, 11 o'clock direction!"

"Good grenade!"

"Aimed!"

"Fire!"

boom--

call out--

Boom——

From the burst of muzzle fire to the explosion of the shell into a cloud of dust, everything happened in the blink of an eye.

There was more than one German firepower unit targeting this exposed anti-tank emplacement. In addition to the Scrap Man, there were also two other Scrap Man and three Cheetahs surrounding it. A total of six vehicles were firing fiercely one after another. Boom, in order to get rid of this extremely threatening large-caliber heavy anti-tank gun in the shortest possible time.

Buzz-buzz-

When the gunner, whose head was buzzing, regained consciousness again, he felt as if his entire body no longer belonged to him and he had completely lost consciousness.

The last scene he remembered before his eyes went dark was just the roaring artillery shells fired by the Germans, the violent scene of surrounding fire and explosions directly in front of his gun position and on the left and right sides.

The carefully constructed gun emplacement bunker saved his life. The careful preparation of lowering the cannon barrel almost to the horizon greatly reduced the exposed frontal projection area of ​​the artillery. Of course, it also lowered the aiming baseline, making the gun crew safer.

The 88mm high-explosive grenade, which was not too powerful, finally knocked him down in the traffic trench connected to the gun emplacement and bunker. After the temporary loss of consciousness, he was finally able to stand up and continue to fight.

But what he saw after the bombardment was obviously not good, or even bad.

The scattered large-caliber projectile fragments cut several deep holes in the gun barrel at the base of the gun. The breech block was also scratched all over by the flying projectile fragments. Some shrapnel were even directly embedded in the breech block. Even if a grown man could pull it out with his bare hands, it would probably take some effort.

Any experienced artilleryman who encounters the scene before him will know that if he does not want to sacrifice himself on his own gun position and die heroically because of the explosion of the gun's chamber, then it is best not to use this gun.

Either the breech block explodes or the barrel explodes. Either of the two possibilities has a high probability of happening. No one knows whether the obviously damaged breech block and gun root can withstand the extremely high pressure when firing. The barrel pressure of the artillery, even a blast of a 122mm shell can take away the entire gun crew instantly.

However, the young gunner, whose face was covered with blood and blackened by smoke stains, had no other gun crew members, and now he was the only one left.

Looking at the comrades from the artillery crew who were lying on the ground, none of them making any movement, I looked at the surrounding positions where there were already loud sounds of gunfire, explosions, pellets and bullets flying in all directions, and the rest Various anti-tank gun emplacements were also being bombarded by direct fire from the Germans, and their comrades were constantly firing back.

The helmet flew away to no one knows where, and blood continued to flow down the gap as long as a little finger on his forehead. The young gunner gritted his teeth, and then made a very astonishing move.

The open ammunition box at his feet contained neatly stacked projectiles, and what fell on the ground in front of the breech block was a propellant cartridge.

Before he had time to load it into the breech block, the body of the loader, who had been hit by shrapnel and died, was still hanging on the side of the breech block, bleeding and motionless.

Dragging his scarred body, the young gunner vowed to fight the Fascist demon until the end. He just opened the body of his comrade without saying a word, picked up the propellant cartridge, held it in his arms, and put it into the open barrel. He still remembered that a round had been pushed into the chamber.

Wow——

Bang——

The metallic sound of the cartridge rubbing against the barrel echoed in my ears along with the sound of the breech closing. The young gunner who had finished loading alone picked up the gun rope from the ground and bit it round and round while resisting the pain in his body. He wrapped his teeth around his bloody hand and finally stopped when he could take aim and fire from the gunner's position.

"Dad, I want to go boating on the Moskva River. You said you would take me there."

"Alena, be good and stay at home with your grandparents. When dad comes back to drive away those German fascists, he will take you with him. Dad will do what he says."

The memories of those days and days are somehow reflected in my mind at this moment, and that cute and cute face and the voice that I will never forget in this life are echoing in my ears.

"Comrade Second Lieutenant, I inform you with sadness that your lover unfortunately died while being transferred to the field hospital. Please express our condolences."

The slowly moving Faschist tank has been firmly locked by its bloodstained right eye. The arm that was desperately shaking the hand wheel to aim at the target has stopped, and the tightly wound gun rope is held tightly in his hand, as if That firm faith and will never let go.

"Alena, daddy is always by your side!"

"Fire!"