Steel Soviet Union

No matter when, only the continuous inheritance is the most important thing, and it has never changed anywhere in the world from ancient times to the present.

Malashenko has forgotten where he first heard this sentence. It was probably in a later class or in a book, but this is no longer important.

When the crackling sound of aerial bombs and the roar of Stuka dive sounded again, Malashenko, who also shouldered the mission of inheritance in a sense, was ready.

"The Germans are coming! Prepare to fight, comrades! Defend our motherland, defend Comrade Stalin!"

The same old words can always encourage people and boost morale when they are needed most.

The soldiers who stayed in the trenches and the commanders, fighters and political commissars who were with them shared the same hatred and had firm eyes. The workers in ragged clothes and the civilians in various costumes clung to the weapons in their hands.

The roar of steel rolled forward with the gray iron current, sweeping in overwhelmingly. The position under the air raids trembled, and the foreign conquerors who set foot on this land were also determined to win and came at full speed.

"Kiril, armor-piercing bullets!"

"Load it!"

"Iushkin, smash that bastard! You know which one I'm talking about!"

"Of course, Comrade Commander!"

boom--

call out--

Ding-ding——

Iushkin, who rarely made a mistake, witnessed with his own eyes the armor-piercing projectile fired by himself through the gun scope. Because the projectile angle was too small, it collided and rubbed against the front of the Panzer IV tank that had narrowly escaped disaster. There was a burst of dazzling sparks, a long piece of paint was scratched off, and then it was bounced off the spot.

One miss will not explain the problem. No matter how powerful the hunter is, he will miss his prey with one shot. Not to mention that the moving Panzer IV tank has its own relative defensive inclination, and lacks the ability to be blocked, so the chance of ricocheting is high. The Soviet-made armor-piercing bullets cannot be entirely blamed on Iushkin.

Malashenko did not scold and blame him, and Iushkin also did not feel discouraged.

The 85mm fixed-hood armor-piercing grenade that was pulled out from the first ammunition rack at the rear end of the turret was once again sent into the gun barrel. The crisp sound of the breech closing heralded the next roar, which briefly echoed in the narrow space. Inside the turret, the lingering sound reaches my ears.

jingle——

Jingle bell bell bell——

"Hello? Headquarters of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment, I am Political Commissar Petrov."

Malashenko personally led his troops back to the front line and plunged into the smoke-filled battle that was igniting again. Petrov, the political commissar who stayed behind in the regiment headquarters in the ruins of the tractor factory, was also holding on to his duties and positions. This sudden attack The call indirectly explained the good news that the phone lines had not been blown up by the Germans yet.

"I'm Chuikov! Where is Malashenko? Why did he ask you to answer the phone?"

People with bad tempers generally don't speak very rationally, and they may not consider the actual situation before speaking. Political Commissar Petrov has long been accustomed to this in his long military career, and how to deal with it in a good-natured manner is also a matter of course. But in the heart.

"Comrade Commander has led the troops to the front line, Comrade Commander! His command style has always been like this! Once the battle starts, you can only find him on the battlefield. He will not escape until the last German guy escapes, falls, or raises his hands to surrender. , he will never come back to the regiment headquarters."

call out--

"Comrade political commissar, be careful!"

boom--

Before the loud voice in the regimental tent replied, an aerial bomb was thrown from nowhere and swooped down with a harsh whistling sound.

The guard who reacted quickly enough immediately threw Commissar Petrov to the ground and used his body to protect him as soon as the roar came.

Fortunately, this small sweet potato with a yield of only 250 kilograms was thrown into the ruins a hundred meters away from the tent, where there was an anti-tank gun and a group of Red Army soldiers who had just opened fire with an armor-piercing round.

But after the shock wave and smoke dissipated, all that was left behind was a pile of anti-tank gun parts, vague scarlet mottled parts, and the smoking crater that sent all the ruins to an unknown place.

"Bah! Bah! Get up, I'm fine! The bomb wasn't dropped on our heads!"

Political Commissar Petrov, whose face was covered with dust and even his military cap was tilted, struggled to get up with his only remaining arm. The first thing he did after getting up was to grab the telephone receiver covered with dust and try again. Sent to his ears.

"A German bomb, Comrade Commander! Bah, our regiment headquarters was not hit and is intact!"

Commissar Petrov on the other end of the phone was covered in dust, and even his mouth was stuffed with pieces of dirt that had been forced into his mouth.

Chuikov, who was also holding the phone tightly on the other end of the phone, was no better. The German Air Force, which had stepped up its bombing efforts, was forcibly turning the northern heavy industrial area into ruins and crushing all the remaining resistance that had been exposed.

Even though Chuikov, who had planned early, relocated his headquarters to the tunnel below, the dust falling like a torrential rain from top to bottom turned him into a terracotta warrior relic as if he had just been unearthed, and his already fiery temper was as if he had been When he was doused with gasoline, he spoke louder and louder.

"The Germans' air raids have intensified. What's the current situation of your regiment? Report it truthfully!"

Chuikov, who was worried that the people below would "report good news but not bad news" and insist on pretending to be a hero, did not forget to remind him to report truthfully, but he never thought that Commissar Petrov on the other end of the phone had never had such an idea.

"As you said, Comrade Commander! The Germans have almost blown up the ruins of the tractor factory again. The intensity of the air strikes is unprecedented!"

"We need air support! It's best to use fighter jets to drive away those German bombers first! If this continues, the First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment will cease to exist. Comrade Commander, please believe me! I don't have any To tell you half a lie, we are still fighting and will fight until the last warrior falls!"

In a ruined area the size of a tractor factory, what would it be like to gather more than thirty Stukas and Junkers 88s for intensive bombing and dive bombing?

Political Commissar Petrov swore that he had never seen it, and of course he had never even dreamed of it!

Malashenko and Commissar Petrov both underestimated the depth of Paulus' madness this time. This man, who had suffered from continuous insomnia to the point of being somewhat neurotic, desperately devoted all his strength to launch an onslaught.

Any enemy in front of him will be completely crushed to pieces!

Whether he can do it or not is a matter of debate, but Paulus was really crazy enough to do it.

Through the phone, it was as if I could see with my own eyes a group of German iron flies painted with black crosses, flying around the tractor factory.

Chuikov, who had become intolerable to the current situation, realized that the last moment was coming. After he put down the phone with a "pop" as the final words of "I know", he immediately picked up the phone again and connected to the person on the other side. distant direction.

"Comrade Khryugin! What are you and your people doing now!?"