Chapter 1930 A bunch of rookies

"The shell is too short? Not enough propellant?"

Malashenko, who didn't realize what was going on for a moment, looked back again, but he immediately understood what Jack had just said, and a smile of "Bengbu is alive" appeared immediately. face.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood, Jack. This is not a fixed load, but a sub-load. The thing you just simulated stuffing into the breech was only half of the shell, and you have to stuff the other half, so It’s just that the loading is complete.”

""

Bar chirp—bar chirp—

Jack's round bell-like eyes widened and he blinked twice. He was speechless. He rarely touched the tank himself. He spent most of his time in the headquarters drawing maps and doing staff work. Jack was a little confused. In the silence Even his helpless blinking of eyes could be heard clearly in the silent tank.

What? An object that was so big and heavy just now was just half a cannonball? I still have to load half of the shells? This, is this kidding me? What a hell joke! ?

Looking at Jack's "extremely shocked and unbelievable" expression, Malashenko, who looked slightly helpless, did not continue to speak. Instead, he raised his right hand, raised his index finger, and pointed at the place under Jack's feet that was placed on the car. After making this action, he said again.

"Here, that's it. First pull the breech open, then stuff the shells into the breech, then pick up the propellant cartridge and stuff it in, confirm that the breech is closed and report that the loading is complete, and let the commander When the gunner knows you've done it, the main gun is ready to fire at any time."

"Another thing is to remember to stay a little further away from the breech block, and don't stay within the retreat distance of the breech block. If this thing hits you hard on the chest, you have to consider whether the urn should be square or round. It’s a matter of whether it’s carved or not. If you don’t die on the spot and still have one breath left, you can’t send your body back to the country, right?”

""

Malashenko, who is proficient in American humor, silenced Jack as soon as he opened his mouth. He wanted to defend himself and say something, but when he thought about it carefully, he was indeed a rookie and had nothing to say. If no one had warned me, I would have known nothing about these dangerous mistakes and might have made them at any time. I really have to thank Malashenko for this.

"Anyway, it's nothing too complicated. The loader's job itself is a simple one, and it only tests strength and durability. But we won't be able to fire a few shots today, so you don't need high-intensity loading. Just do it slowly and take your time. Remember to do what you can, I will pay attention and check your filling process to supervise you, just do what you should do, and I will point out any problems to you.”

For these rookies who were exposed to Soviet tanks for the first time, Malashenko had many things to worry about, especially Jack, a senior staff officer who had barely touched a tank before, let alone stayed in a tank to charge into battle and participate in battles. A guy who is fighting on the front line of the battlefield, even if he is asked to serve as the simplest loader, you have to keep your attention.

"Okay, each crew member will report to me and confirm the status of the tank."

Major General Charleson, who had commanded his own Matilda tanks since the Battle of France and led his troops in fierce battles with the Germans, and then moved to North Africa and then to the European battlefield, was certainly familiar with this process.

As soon as Malashenko opened his mouth, Major General Charlieson immediately opened his mouth to report.

"The sighting system is fine, the machine gun and main gun firing mechanisms are normal, everything is ready!"

That is to say, before Major General Charlieson finished speaking, the little Major Nero, who was staying in the driving seat at the front of the narrow and cramped car, was still busy flipping through the thick stack of customized English driver's manuals in his hand. .

Looking at the hand-drawn schematic diagram above, and then comparing it to the actual machine reference object in front of me, I want to determine what the functions and uses of the piles of tractor-like joysticks on my left and right hands are, and what they are used for. What did the pile of Russian-written driver's seat clock shops in front of me mean? I didn't bother to answer Malashenko's question coming from the turret fighting room behind me.

""

Seeing that Little Nero didn't reply, Malashenko lowered his head and bent over and looked towards the front of the car. He saw that the scene of this man at this moment really looked like a famous painting of later generations. The one "Going to the top and holding it by a genius" The world-famous painting "The American Pilot Learning How to Land".

Regardless, the driver is the most technical position in the entire vehicle crew, and the upper limit of his performance can be said to be higher than that of the gunner. In actual combat, it can affect at least half of the combat effectiveness of the entire vehicle. Depending on the situation, it may be more and the proportion is larger. It is not an exaggeration to say that it is the person who determines the life and death of the entire vehicle.

With such a complicated thing, no matter who is trying it for the first time, it is probably like this. No wonder this kid was confused by a completely unfamiliar and complex operating system.

The patient Malashenko breathed a sigh of relief, then spoke again and asked again.

"Nero, are you done?"

"Huh? It's done, yes, no problem! It's basically done, I can do it, I mean I believe I can do it, I can definitely do it, I've basically figured it out!"

Looking at the kid's somewhat pretentious expression, Malashenko guessed that he probably couldn't believe the words "it's all done".

If it were placed on the battlefield, I would definitely not leave the life and death of everyone in the car to such a 250-year-old driver.

However, anyway, now he is not on the battlefield but on the testing ground. Malashenko, who doesn't want to spend too much effort, feels relieved after thinking about it.

Anyway, it's a flat land all the way. I don't believe you can drive this over 40-ton thing over in a place like this. Neither Anton Star nor Sergei Star is that outrageous.

So, no matter what, just let him go. Whether it's the mule or the horse, we can pull him out first and let him go.

"OK, let's officially start. The driver will start the tank first, start in first gear, and drive."

Before Malashenko could finish his words, the whole tank suddenly felt like a house suddenly coming to life and rushed forward.

Malashenko was not sure what was going on at the driver's side, but judging from the feedback from his body, he estimated that the 250 Nero was too nervous and put it in the wrong gear. The whole tank seemed to be suffering from epilepsy. The ground twitched forward.

Did you say the tank really started running?

No, it was just that there was no movement after the sudden tremor, and it was still far from running.

Before Malashenko could say anything, he heard a flurry of apologies coming from the driver's seat at the front of the chassis.