Chapter 1425 Red Eagle
The 60-ton IS4 heavy tank swayed on the bumpy off-road road, and the roar of the powerful diesel engine made the tank tremble like an electric shock. Malashenko, who grew up in the countryside before crossing the border and was lucky enough to ride on a tractor, swore that the feeling of sitting on a tank these days was no better than riding in the bed of a tractor.
Especially when the IS4 is driving on the current muddy off-road road, the feeling of large mud splashes rolled up by the tracks, coupled with the feeling of the swaying itself, is really indescribably weird.
Malashenko thinks this can be described as the feeling of sitting on an electric rocking chair, like a toy that little kids play with coins?
That may be the case, Malashenko had never ridden in this thing before traveling through time.
Anyway, this weird feeling now is something you can't put your finger on. The tank walks, pauses, walks, pauses, and then is mixed with a strong sense of sluggishness as the mud hugs the track. With his hands on the top of the turret and half of his body outside the tank, Malashenko sighed. Not many people would like the feeling of racing a tank in the mud.
"Heavy tanks are not as good as they should be at times like this, but the medium tanks are more impressive. Look, those T34s and T43s run so fast, we look like old men when we compare them."
Looking in the direction of Iushkin's finger, Malashenko could see the marching column of medium-sized tanks composed of T34 and T43, running at full speed on the track on the same bad mud road.
Just like Iushkin said, that speed was extremely fast compared to the broken car beneath him. The other IS6 heavy tanks accompanying his division commander's command vehicle were not much better. They were trapped in the mud and were as slow as an old donkey cart that could have been running at high speed.
If this momentum continues, the medium tank units will definitely be the first to engage the enemy. This can be seen now and is unmistakable.
In the past, Malashenko would have been worried about medium tanks being deflated, but if he is still worried about this now, it is purely a matter of taking the carrot first and not worrying about it.
Even if the Skeleton Division is capable of fighting, it will not be able to cause too much damage in a short period of time. What the medium tank unit has to do is not to kill many Germans or to inflict heavy damage and casualties on the enemy. Instead, they rush forward and wrap around the enemy's tail, retaining as much as they can so that these German sticks can no longer run away so neatly.
Next, is the final chapter moment when the heavy tank troops arrive and stage a strangulation of life and death.
The Germans can cut off their tails to survive, leaving some of the rear troops behind and continue to flee.
But this kind of trick will not have many useful effects here with Malashenko. It is easy to kill the German defenders and kill the troops. On the contrary, every wave eaten is equivalent to a slow death for the Germans.
This only delayed the final moment of destruction, and the countdown to death continued without stopping.
Whether you recognize this or not is up to the Germans, but the existing facts cannot be changed by human subjective will.
Thinking of this, Malashenko, who already had a set of tactics in mind, immediately bent down and retracted into the turret, took off the radio transmitter hanging next to him and pressed the communication button.
"Lavery, just like last time, you bring a group of medium tanks to lead the battle. Just rush up and entangle the Germans and hold them back. Don't bite the bones. You know what I mean. And be careful not to Send it in yourself.”
Lavrinenko's personality is very similar to Malashenko's. They are both accustomed to speaking out and doing what they say immediately.
The only difference is that Malashenko, who carries more things on his body, now has to think more, but this still does not affect Malashenko to remind his best friend and good brother to be careful.
"You don't actually need to say this, you just need to tell me what to do. When did I fail to complete the task?"
Listening to the familiar reply with the electric sound coming from the radio, Malashenko, who knew what Lavrinenko's expression was probably like now, just smiled.
"Be careful, my brother."
"the same as you."
Snapped--
After hanging up the radio, Malashenko straightened up and got out of the turret again. Just when he was about to say something to Iushkin, before he could speak, he heard a sudden whistling sound coming from behind him.
Woo——
"Huh? Aren't these guys sleeping in today? They are so diligent."
The whistling sound that could fly from the direction behind him was naturally not an artillery shell. What passed over the head of the entire marching army was the long-awaited Il-2 attack aircraft group.
There were a lot of these war eagles, which the Germans horrifiedly called the "Black Death." Malashenko, who looked up at the sky, just took a glance and saw a total of 12 ILs in the first echelon. 2 flying in formation. Behind them were other Red Army fighter planes, which were all black. The slightly smaller ones looked like they were a formation of fighter planes specially sent to escort them.
"It's full of rockets, and there must be bombs in the belly door. Just like this, kill those fascist lackeys! Come on, airmen! Go and clear the way for the heroic Stalin Guards 1st Tank Division! Hurrah!! !”
Perhaps it had been a long time since he had experienced such intensive air support. Before Malashenko could even say a few words as a leader, he first muttered silently, and then the majestic Iushkin grabbed him. He took off the tank cap on his head, raised it high and waved it, while shouting loudly at the comrades in the sky.
It didn't matter if Iushkin didn't shout. This shout of "Ula" directly brought together several infantrymen sitting on the engine cover of Malashenko's vehicle, as well as the "tank knights" on other heavy tanks around him. Scream loudly.
"Ula! Ula! Ula!"
"Come on, tear those fascists into pieces! Blast them to death!"
"Victory belongs to the Red Army, long live Comrade Stalin!"
The effect of a person's roar is like a spark falling into a powder keg, instantly igniting the explosion and setting off a tsunami of high-pitched cheers.
The entire march soon turned into a boiling sea of cheers and shouts, and the Il-2 attack aircraft in the sky seemed to feel this highly contagious formation. As the low-altitude black shadow passed over the column, the wings and fuselage were slightly tilted to the side and tilted to a military salute angle in response. The air-ground cheering feast reached its climax in an instant.
Looking at the scene of high morale around him, even Malashenko, who had seen many similar scenes in various war blockbusters of later generations, could not help but take off his tank cap with a smile and look towards the expectant figures in the sky. The long-awaited war eagles performed a casual military salute.
"Blow them all up, Red Eagle!"
