Chapter 737 Face-to-face fight to the death

Creation is difficult, but destruction is easy.

Manufacturing a Panzer IV tank equipped with an extended-barreled 75mm main gun requires hundreds of man-hours and the cooperation of dozens of skilled workers to complete.

But to destroy this powerful war machine, all it takes is a gentle finger movement and less than a second of cannonball flight time.

boom--

The No. 4 tank, which was accurately penetrated by Iushkin's shot through the main armor on the front of the turret, was like a drunken man. Just now, it was still maneuvering at a high speed to avoid the falling death. It suddenly slowed down until it reached the end of the tank. It hit the rubble on the side and stopped on the spot.

This Panzer IV tank was relatively lucky. When the 85mm hooded armor-piercing grenade with a full charge penetrated the main armor on the front of the turret, and the charge was successfully detonated in the vehicle, it neither exploded nor caught fire. , just paralyzed on the spot like a wild boar shot down by a hunter.

The 85mm hooded armor-piercing grenade detonated in the turret affected the specific killing effect to a certain extent due to the angle and narrow space.

No one will look back and care about the condition of the three dead people in the turret who have become meat paste. The driver, whose legs were almost smashed into sieves by the shrapnel that bounced wildly in the car, still refuses to give up the hope of living. He pushed open the hatch above his head and leaned his upper body out, trying to use his last strength to escape.

Unfortunately, the German infantry waiting for him outside the car could only see the bodies lying on the ground, while those standing were looking at him with eyes that were so angry that they could almost burn people alive. He glared angrily.

"Damn it! Damn it"

Cursing the terrible scene in front of him, the bloody driver subconsciously reached for the lining of his shirt, trying to pull out the gun stuck in his jacket and do something.

But the Red Army soldiers, who were extremely jealous when their enemies met, were obviously not fools. The possibility of making this half-dead German guy take out his gun did not exist from the beginning.

The two Red Army veterans who were at the front quickly climbed onto the front armor of the No. 4 tank in three steps and two steps. They picked up the butts of the Bobosha submachine guns in their hands as if they were hitting golf balls. In an instant, it hit the bloody German pilot's face hard.

The force of the sharp blow from the gun butt was so strong that the poor German driver had no idea how many of his teeth were flying out and how dislocated his jaw was.

The trembling hands had forgotten the urge to pull out the gun just now, and subconsciously wanted to straighten his chin and re-align the severely misaligned upper and lower jaws together.

But the two Red Army veterans, who obviously had just begun, did not give him a short chance. They grabbed the collar of the German driver with strong hands like dragging a dog to death and lifted the German driver out of the car. Ignoring the pair of feet that were almost completely blown to pieces and still had a bit of bone and muscle left, they collided with the cold armor, and the screams that followed at the same time were hoarse and screamed like a slaughtered pig.

"Ah! Feet my feet!"

The fact that the jaw is so dislocated that it can still make sounds has to be said to be a miracle on earth, enough to make surgeons who have never seen this scene shout a miracle.

But the few Red Army soldiers who were still busy killing more Germans obviously didn't care about this. The butts of Mosin-Nagant rifles and Bobosha submachine guns equipped with bayonets fell straight down like raindrops. The limited supply of blood splashing and the sound of the knife piercing flesh quickly overshadowed the screams and ended the brief and painful experience.

"Bah! Damn fascist dog, go to your hell and lick the ass of your dead dog emperor!"

The corpse who stared at Shuangmu's empty eyes with a pair of blind eyes had a mouthful of thick phlegm on his face. The squad leader, who killed people without having to trample an ant to death, was the first to turn around and leave. Several of them worked together to kill the enemy. The Red Army soldiers followed closely, leaving a warm corpse covered with knife wounds still grunting and bleeding, still lying on its back on the ground.

Similar scenes are not just an example. The Red Army soldiers, who were full of energy and fought with the German army, tried every means to eliminate the enemies who were already in chaos and fighting on their own.

When the bullets are gone, use the bayonet and gun butt; when the weapon is knocked away, use the fists and teeth.

The German resisted too hard and raised his fist to greet his lower body. He used all his strength to deliver a jab that could even make the yolk flow in his crotch. He rolled on the ground in pain and was immediately jumped at. The enemy who came up picked up the fallen bayonet and stabbed it through the throat. The dying corpse didn't even know whether to cover the painful lower body with his hands or cover the leaking throat.

The rules of the game are very simple, as long as you can kill the opponents found within your field of vision, the process and means can be used at will without any restrictions.

The German army is well aware of the ferocity of their opponents' close combat, and they also know that these Russian Ivans will do whatever it takes once they engage in close hand-to-hand combat.

But there must be a limit to what human ethics can tolerate by resorting to any means.

Like an evil spirit, he tore off a piece of meat from his throat and bit his neck so that blood gushed out. He was stabbed through the chest with a bayonet and still had to hold on for the last breath. He pierced the opponent's forehead with the bayonet between his eyebrows, and his intestines were beaten. The blood flowed out and drooped on the ground. With his mouth still full of blood, he raised the Bobosha submachine gun in his hand and fired.

This kind of hell-level hand-to-hand combat that puts all ethics and morality into the dog's belly is simply not something humans can fight.

Having conquered the whole of Europe, they had never seen such a crazy battle. The shocked and trembling German army could not understand what was going on with these Russians, and what kind of thing could inspire this kind of fierce battle even if they only had their last breath. The horrifyingly twisted will that pulls a backrest.

The German soldiers, who were fighting to the death with the Soviet troops with ferocious faces, had no time to think about it. Of course, they had no chance to think about it. They would never have such an opportunity again in the future, because there were still human internal organs hanging in the gaps between the track plates. The fragmented steel behemoths have already pressed against his face.

"The Germans are retreating! Comrade commander, they ran away! These cowards finally ran away! Haha, we won! Ula!"

The narrow turret space was filled with the pungent smell of unburned gunpowder, but this still could not stop Iushkin, who had witnessed the victory with his own eyes, from jumping up with excitement in his gunner's position.

But Malashenko, who had already predicted that the result would be like this, was not willing to limit himself to this. Those German troops who had put all their chips on this attack and hardly repaired their defensive positions must pay more for their rashness. Big price!