Chapter 433 The sky roars

The barrage of the German heavy artillery cluster that hit by the mountain roar made his scalp numb. In a daze, he felt that he was almost losing consciousness. He forced his head up and shook his head vigorously. Shenke must take responsibility at this critical moment.

"Niklay, debug the radio, hand me the microphone, quick!"

After hearing the order from Malashenko, he acted quickly and handed the microphone hanging beside him to Malashenko's hand. In an instant, Nikolai suddenly realized that something was wrong and spoke immediately.

"Comrade Commander, who should I contact to debug the radio? You haven't told me yet."

After hearing this, Malashenko, who was holding the microphone in his hand, was stunned for a moment. After a brief brain disconnect, he immediately spoke again.

"Of course I need to contact the rear airport. I want to know where our air support is now! Wait, the communication distance is not enough. Forget it, contact Tyashenko's division headquarters!"

After getting the accurate answer from Malashenko, Nikolai quickly moved his hands and fiddled with the car radio station on the shelf next to him with very skillful movements. The microphone filled with a lot of electric current soon answered Entered communication status.

"Commander Tyashenko, political commissar Zelenkov, can anyone hear me?"

The anxious Malashenko, who was holding a microphone in his hand, did not wait too long. A reply soon came from the field division headquarters located less than three kilometers behind him.

"Comrade Malashenko, I am Commander Tyashenko, please speak."

After hearing the reply from the communication radio station, Malashenko finally felt a big stone fall in his heart. Malashenko, who was already on the verge of burning out, immediately put the microphone in his hand closer to his mouth and shouted loudly.

"Commander Diyashenko, I need you to contact the frontline airport immediately and ask where our air support formation is now! The German artillery fire is causing heavy damage to my troops. If this continues, we will not be able to hold on for long. !”

The facts are exactly the same as what Malashenko is anxiously shouting now.

While the vehicle-mounted radio was being debugged and sent to the rear field division headquarters where Diyashenko was located, the German 150mm heavy artillery shells that continued to roar and fall from the sky were still exploding one after another.

Although the T34 tank group with full throttle and full power can maneuver to avoid most of the incoming artillery fire, the flying hot shrapnel is not enough to damage the T34 tanks that are firmly protected by equivalent sloped armor.

But all this was only for the tank crews. The Soviet infantrymen, who were jokingly called "human flesh plug-in reactive armor" by later military fans, were not so lucky.

Together with Malashenko's vanguard tank group, the Soviet infantry who charged towards the German positions in the form of "tank knights" hung outside the tanks suffered heavy casualties.

The scorching shrapnel that continued to hit from all directions was like an overwhelming rain of arrows, "cutting off the horse" the Soviet infantry. The unlucky guy who was hit by the shrapnel rolled and fell off the tank before he even had time to cry out.

The most taboo thing for ancient cavalry groups when launching a charge was to have to stop midway because someone fell off the horse. Such a move would not only seriously disrupt one's own charging formation, but also become the enemy's best enemy because of the cessation of maneuver. Target, in the worst case, they may even be knocked to the ground by other cavalry behind them who have no time to stop and be trampled to death by horse hooves. This is also true for the Soviet tank troops who wear heavy armor and become a new generation of prairie cavalry. It's the same thing.

From time to time, the Soviet infantry who fell like dumplings from the tank had no time to rescue them. The T34 tank, with the accelerator pressed to the bottom, had no choice but to use its steel body weighing 28 tons of full combat weight to run over the bodies of its comrades who might still be alive. .

Adjectives such as hard-hearted and desperate are irrelevant today.

If you step on the accelerator and keep going at full speed, you may just accidentally run over a person to death, or you may simply run over a dead body.

But if you stop to save people in this situation, the entire tank crew and all the infantrymen may die. It can be said that none of the Soviet tank veterans who have fought all the way from the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War to the present day will die. He is an emotional fool.

To put it bluntly, even if the man who fell from the tank in front was his twin brother, these Soviet tank soldiers who had struggled to climb out of the mountain of blood and steel wreckage would not have hesitated at all.

The pure white tracks galloping across the vast snowfield were stained with the deep red color of the blood of his comrades. Infected by the increasingly white and deteriorating scene in front of him, his eyes were bloodshot and red, and adrenaline surged rapidly. A group of Soviet tank veterans just want to rush into the German position and crush everything.

At this point, there is no more time to worry about the casualties of the infantry hanging outside the tank. Malashenko, whose time to even open his mouth to yell and curse has been shortened, is about to ask again where the air support formation is, behind him The roar of propellers in the sky from far to near suddenly entered Malashenko's mind almost unexpectedly.

"What is this sound!?"

He almost thought he had misheard the screams of German heavy artillery as the roar of fighter planes' propeller engines. After listening carefully for a few seconds, Malashenko was convinced that he had heard correctly. This sound came from behind him. The roar of the propeller engine is indeed the most beautiful note symbolizing hope.

After confirming the sound, Malashenko, who was already very impatient, immediately pushed open the hatch cover above his head without saying a word. The rather heavy one-piece turret top cover was roughly pushed open by Malashenko, who seemed to be on steroids. Pushing away, a dense group of Soviet fighter jets flying rapidly in the sky immediately appeared in Malashenko's eyes.

"Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, holy shit, how many fucking times did this come!?"

Malashenko, who had already received reliable information from Comrade Lao Zhu, was not surprised by the arrival of air support. However, what shocked Malashenko was that the support aircraft fleet, which was originally estimated to be only 20 to 30 aircraft, unexpectedly suddenly Nearly fifty of them came.

These nearly fifty fighter planes may be nothing to the still fat and oily German Army Group Center, but for Malashenko, who is used to living a hard life without air supremacy, it is simply like a miracle! The group of black presses in the sky that seemed to be blocking out the sun was really surprising!