Chapter 588 Death Fight (Part 2)

"Hold your position! Comrades, repel the fascists!"

Firm faith and the courage to face death can support a person to accomplish many seemingly impossible things. At this moment, Commissar Petrov, holding the Tokarev TT33 pistol tightly in his hand, is persisting in fighting with such an attitude.

Can you still hold your position now? This is obviously a question worth thinking about and the answer is obvious.

But for people like Commissar Petrov, any conjecture that might shake his faith seems useless and redundant. There is only one final destination for a soldier with firm faith.

The German tanks rumbling toward the position had already begun to activate their hull headings and coaxial machine guns. The bright green tracer barrage holes with splashes of fire penetrated the fragile human bodies and knocked down the Red Army soldiers who poked their heads out one after another.

The dead people fell on the ground facing the trenches without making any sound, letting their blood flow freely. The Red Army soldiers who were not killed on the spot were helpless and wailed, begging for someone to help them.

Da da da--

call out--

"Uhhh!!!"

When he saw a burst of blazing machine gun barrage coming, he immediately subconsciously ducked his head and crouched down. However, before the political commissar Petrov, who had just escaped from death, could raise his head, an unprepared scream suddenly came from behind him. Passed by.

"Comrade Political Commissar, my arm, my arm!"

The miserable cry immediately attracted Commissar Petrov's attention. He turned his head and looked around, only to see that a Red Army soldier next to him had been shot and fell to the ground. His originally strong arm was now Only a little bit of muscle, veins, skin and flesh were left connected together, and the red and white broken bones that were directly shot into two pieces by the 92mm machine gun bullet looked extremely shocking.

The theoretical rate of fire of the G34-T vehicle-mounted machine gun was considered to be one of the faster ones in mid-1942. At a time when the MG42 had been tested and finalized and entered the stage of mass production but had not yet been widely used in front-line troops, the MG34 still served as the firepower of the German armored and infantry squads. The mainstay and continues to fight.

The theoretical limit rate of fire of 900 rounds per minute means that 15 rounds of 92mm projectiles can be poured out in one second without letting go of the trigger.

So when an MG34-T vehicle-mounted machine gun pours out firepower like crazy, and the firepower output lasts even for half a second on a target, it is not unimaginable how terrible the damage it can cause.

The continuous 92mm machine gun barrage like splashing water almost completely tore off the entire left arm. Commissar Petrov, who witnessed the bloody scene in front of him, had no good solution. It was impossible to have time at the moment of lightning. Went to take care of a seriously injured man who had his arm broken.

"Look at me, hey, look at me! Andre! We both lost our left arms fighting the invaders, but I hope you're doing better now than an old guy like me! Those fascist invaders They will not pity us and continue to fight, we must fight them off!"

Without any sensational words, he simply shouted and gave orders to the young warrior in front of him.

Political Commissar Petrov, who felt the same way, knew the heartbreaking pain of losing his left arm, but he also knew that if he gave up on himself because of this, the only possibility was to be killed.

The power of role models is often infinite, especially when a young heart with a firm patriotic belief worships, respects and follows the role model, this invisible and intangible spiritual power will be exponentially increased. Infinite zoom.

The soldier who was still screaming just endured the excruciating pain and stood up straight with the Bobosha submachine gun in his hand. Large pieces of broken blood continued to splash to the ground, reflecting the red earth under his feet, twisted but twisted by the pain. On the face with firm eyes flashing, he almost struggled to squeeze out a miserable smile.

"I know what to do! Comrade Political Commissar!"

Andrei was not a militia fighter who came to support Lieutenant Vasily, but a tank platoon leader belonging to the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment led by Malashenko. Three KV1 heavy tanks including the vehicle.

In the previous rout of the Don River Steppe, one of the other two KV1 heavy tanks led by Andre was destroyed by a German air attack, and the other voluntarily stayed in the battle to repel the German pursuit. After a while, it recovered. The fierce exchange of fire lasted for 25 minutes, and then the news was completely lost and no longer could be contacted by radio.

Andre, who lost all the tanks in his platoon, became a polished platoon leader. But for this tank veteran who had experienced the worst battle from the Soviet-Polish border in 1941 to this day, even worse things happened again. The signs kept coming.

Malashenko, who had only a few hours of cross-country reserve oil left in the army, was forced to order the discarding of tanks to slow down the regiment's total fuel consumption and pump out the oil from abandoned tanks for use by the remaining tanks. Try to drink poison to quench thirst to save as many tanks as possible.

Unfortunately, the Andrei KV1 heavy tank vehicle, which was in poor condition and riddled with many minor problems, quickly became a priority for abandonment.

Although he lost his precious tank and led the crew to transform from tank soldiers to infantry, Andrei did not have the slightest complaint against Malashenko in his heart.

The young man clearly knew in his heart the huge pressure Malashenko, who was the leader of the regiment, was under. Ordering to abandon the tanks under his command was an extremely difficult decision for Malashenko.

In the past air raid outside the village and the fierce firefight of more than ten minutes, Andre lost all his comrades in the same platoon, including four other members of his car crew.

Most of them didn't get to see those extremely familiar faces for the last time until the last moment before they died in battle.

Regret and pain spread in the heart of the young tank platoon leader. Andre, who asked himself that he had nothing to lose, no longer planned to go back alive. He wanted to use his life to protect those who left before him. Something that our comrades will try their best to protect until their death.

"Come on, you shit-eating fascist lackey!"

The roaring steel tracks finally rumbled past the trench above their heads. Andre, who was half-crouched and huddled in the trench, immediately raised the weapon in his hand the moment after the German tank passed by, and straightened up to stand alone. Holding a gun in his hand, he pointed the muzzle at the enemy, and what appeared in front of him immediately was a German infantryman whose cheeks were blackened by the smoke of war.