Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

Chapter 173: Battle of Poland (36)

Fighting in the streets, various winding streets, complex landforms, and enemies hidden in the dark make street battles full of countless unpredictable factors. Once the troops come into close contact, the artillery fire coverage from the rear and the aircraft bombing cover have lost their meaning. Even if observers can be sent to guide the artillery, the slightest deviation in the shooting elements of the artillery will cause great accidental damage. And once the intelligence does not follow up with the frontline troops in time, the unfamiliarity with the complex terrain is enough for the enemy to ambush and destroy an excellent unit.

And the looming sniper among them is the god of death who dominates the ordinary troops. Every shot kills, and everyone is killed with the sound of the gun.

In Warsaw, in a dilapidated building that had been half blown away by the bombing, sniper Michel stared at a street 500 meters away through the scope on the SVD. The street fighting troops have not yet advanced there, and it is very likely that they will catch the Poles.

There was a destroyed Polish light tank a little closer. It was unknown how many tanks the Poles had gathered in the city. Any number of rounds of bombing could hit these tanks. Fortunately, Iron Fist rockets have been distributed to the street fighting troop class level, and can easily deal with these fragile tanks.

I saw a wild dog that appeared out of nowhere and walked cautiously to the wreckage of the tank, curiously looking back and forth at the damaged steel armor. I don’t know why I suddenly became interested in it. Could it be that I still want to make a home there?

Michelle watched the dog's every move through the six-power scope. They stayed here motionless for several hours, and he was really getting bored.

In fact, sniper tactics are very similar to submarine warfare at sea. Many times you have to face boring waiting, and achieving results is a rare case of luck.

At this moment, Martin, the observer on the side, suddenly said urgently. "One hundred and fifty meters, enemy!"

One hundred and fifty meters? Michelle quickly turned her gun and looked at where Martin was pointing. Behind a wall on the street there was a sneaky head looking out.

Seeing the man's unkempt appearance, Michelle did not rush to pull the trigger, but waited patiently.

Martin murmured curiously. "Where did these guys come from?"

The street fighting troops have advanced to 300 meters away, and they have cleared every building to ensure that there is no danger. How did this guy evade search?

As he spoke, the guy turned over the wall and jumped out. He was covered in dirt and dust, but he could still be seen wearing a Polish military uniform and holding a submachine gun in his hand.

Although the country was destroyed in less than a month, Poland had independently developed a submachine gun. This submachine gun has a very domineering name, called "Death". Its maximum theoretical rate of fire can reach 1,200 rounds per minute, which is comparable to the rate of fire of the German MG42 general-purpose machine gun, and can surpass many machine guns of the time. The name "Death" submachine gun is well deserved. This type of submachine gun uses a 24-round detachable magazine, and all bullets can be fired in just 25 seconds.

For a machine gun, a rate of fire of 1,200 rounds per minute means death, but for a submachine gun, such a high rate of fire is a big problem. The recoil spring is too stiff and the shot is too short, which is the root cause of the high rate of fire of this submachine gun.

Due to the high rate of fire, one of the important problems to be solved during the development of the Death Submachine Gun was to reduce the rate of fire. After a series of improvements, the rate of fire of this submachine gun was reduced to 750 rounds per minute. But this rate of fire was still too fast for the time.

Due to the long development cycle and the late ordering time (the Polish military ordered this type of submachine gun in batches in March 1939), until the beginning of the war, only a few dozen prototype guns were produced.

After jumping out, he did not leave in a hurry. Instead, he looked around carefully for a while, then picked up a small stone and threw it into the wall.

"What does this guy want to do?" The next second, the two of them stared dumbfoundedly at the Polish soldiers jumping out of the wall one after another, more than a dozen of them.

"Ha! These guys, I'll kill you all with one shot." Martin was about to pick up the walkie-talkie at hand to notify the artillerymen at the rear, but was stopped by Michelle. "How can you give someone else the meat that reaches your mouth?" As he said this, he took out an arm-thick silencer from the backpack next to him and installed it on the muzzle of the SVD. He took out two magazines containing subsonic bullets and placed them in a convenient place, and used one of them to replace the magazine on the gun.

At this time, the group of Polish soldiers were walking cautiously towards this side. Each of them was holding either a submachine gun or a machine gun, and there were several grenades hanging on their waists. They seemed to be preparing to infiltrate into the rear and cause a scene. of.

Michel pointed the cross of the scope at the Polish soldier walking at the front, and gently pulled the trigger.

puff! There was a muffled sound, and when he felt the recoil on his shoulder, he saw the Polish soldier kneeling on the ground, holding his stomach.

"What's wrong with you?" The others who were following him were about to step forward to check, when Michelle pulled the trigger repeatedly, hitting seven or eight people at once.

Only then did the Polish soldiers react, and the remaining people immediately fell down.

"Haha, a bunch of idiots!" Michelle couldn't help but sneered. If these people fled, maybe a few of them could escape. They were lying on the ground like this, waiting to die.

He put on a new magazine as quickly as possible, aimed at the remaining Polish soldiers, and pulled the trigger again.

When the unlucky Polish soldiers finally realized something was wrong and prepared to flee, only three or four of them could get up. Before they could run a few steps, they were all shot and fell to the ground.

"It feels so good!" Michelle took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of gunpowder that filled the surrounding area into her nasal cavity. "Twenty rounds of bullets, 16 enemies, so-so." Commenting on his performance just now, Michelle put on thick gloves, removed the somewhat hot silencer, and put it aside.

"Ha, you guy." Martin shook his head speechlessly. Michelle's marksmanship is good, but he is also quite cruel. Unless it was a covert operation, he would never kill the enemy with one shot. Instead, he would only target the parts that would make the enemy lose their combat effectiveness but not kill him immediately.

Just like now, a dozen Polish soldiers fell to the ground 100 meters away and kept wailing.

Michelle called it "mercy" and gave them time to confess on their deathbed.

Martin felt that the pain of being shot was almost killing him. How could he think of any deathbed confession? He might as well give them a happy one.

Michelle said while putting on a new magazine. "There are two guys who can't die. Notify the rear and ask them to be interrogated to see where these guys came from."

"Okay." Martin picked up the walkie-talkie and reported the situation to the rear. After the report, he also packed up his things and prepared to change places.

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