Chapter 790 Blood in Fire

The real-life fighting scene of steel and flesh grinding together is far more terrifying than the scenes shown in any film or television drama. There is no humanity at all on this battlefield where burning steel crushes flesh. To be precise, humanity is here. On the contrary, it has become a burden, an irreparable burden that can make people lose their lives and be dragged into the abyss, never to be recovered.

If you want to survive, you must become a bloodthirsty beast. Whether it is revenge or defending the motherland, the only way to achieve these ultimate goals is endless killing. Don't stop until the opponent completely collapses and cannot rise again!

Facing the Soviet infantry that surged down like a bursting flood, Malashenko commanded the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment and chased the German infantry like ducks for their lives. They had no time to prepare and were barely stopped. A close-quarters battle ensued.

Ula——

"Die! Nacui!"

The Mosin-Nagant rifle with a sharp bayonet flashed forward and thrust forward, instantly piercing the fragile flesh and blood chest.

The bloody left hand that held the blade tightly was unable to pull it out no matter how hard he tried. The MP40 submachine gun hanging in his right hand continued to gain weight as if it had been enchanted and finally fell to the ground.

He could truly feel the life force in his body disappearing at the speed of light. The German submachine gunner, who could no longer support the heavy weight of his body, fell backwards and fell to the ground. A knife was stabbed into Mosin's heart. The Nagant rifle took less than five seconds to end a life.

The goddess of war is absolutely fair and will never deliberately put unequal pressure on the so-called evil party in order to favor the morally righteous party.

The party that can stand until the opponent falls is the ultimate justice. From ancient times to the present, only this truth has not changed from beginning to end in the long history of war.

A military engineer shovel as big as a head aimed at the head and screamed at it. The blood from the cracked head was mixed with brain matter and sprayed all over the head and face of the German sergeant who was the instigator of this scene.

The stench of human brains and flesh and blood on his face was not even time to reach out and wipe it away. The rifle in his hand was not as useful as a sapper shovel at this time. The German sergeant continued to scream and roar and rushed forward, his penis One target is a Soviet soldier who is riding on his comrade and biting his throat with his teeth.

"Ahhhhh!!! Go to hell, you damn Ivan!"

call--

puff--

The cutting edge has long been sharpened by the earthmoving work that is often used to excavate positions and fortifications.

The German sergeant rounded his arms in a standard golf swing and swung the engineer shovel with all his strength. It was like a laser dagger from Star Wars, and it was directly hit in the blink of an eye. They chopped off a severed head along the neck, and scarlet blood spurted out like a fountain from the scar as big as the mouth of a bowl, straight into the sky.

The German sergeant did what he wanted to do, but it was too late.

The German soldier who was struggling with this Soviet soldier had his neck forcefully bitten off. His body was still twitching and trembling intermittently. It was not known whether it was due to the convulsions of the nerves before death or purely from corpse nerves. The large amount of blood that still gushes out from the broken neck where a large piece of flesh is missing is so real.

The head of the Soviet soldier chopped off with a shovel fell less than twenty centimeters next to the corpse of the German soldier. The German sergeant saw the two dead men in front of him without any emotion in his heart.

If you don't want to be the third corpse lying here, you'd better take action immediately and move your steps. The German sergeant who has survived to this day knows this very well.

But, it's still too late in the end

boom--

A 76mm high-explosive grenade flew from nowhere and destroyed everything on the ten square meters of land. The half-cut hand holding the engineer's shovel was lifted high by the explosion shock wave, and then fell to the ground. , as for the owner of the severed hand, it has been restored to a more fragmented posture and is hard to find.

Kill one to get enough capital, kill two to support you, kill three to earn blood, and kill four to be able to laugh all the way to the hell-knows-what-hell world of the afterlife.

If you kill seven, eight or ten people and are lucky enough to have your name remembered by someone alive, then you may be awarded a military medal or special honor posthumously.

It's just that there are really very few people who can actually do this and still survive.

"Comrades, unite around me! Kill all these lackeys raised by Hitler, Ulla!!!"

Commander Voromov is worthy of being the first batch of heroes who were awarded the Order of Lenin after the beginning of the Great Patriotic War and are still alive today. The spirit of the Patriotic hero is widely praised in the Red Army’s major propaganda agencies, newspapers, magazines, and radio stations. , is vividly reflected in this lieutenant colonel who is so reckless that he is not like a regiment commander but like a commando captain.

He led his regiment security company to charge forward and fight bravely at the forefront of the front line to kill the enemy.

From the moment he entered the chaotic battle until now, Commander Voromov has used up three fully loaded drums of Bobosha submachine guns in less than two minutes, and fell to his gun. Even if there are not ten German troops in my mouth, they are almost the same.

The bloody battle that turned into a complete mess has truly become the rumored "recognizing only clothes but not people". Any tank wearing the uniform of the enemy or painted with the opponent's paint mark will become the target of being hunted.

Nearly two thousand people and nearly a hundred tanks engaged in a brutal melee, concentrated in less than one square kilometer of land, and the sky was dark and the sky was filled with blood.

Malashenko, whose vision was limited in the turret, had no idea whether the hand-to-hand infantry fighting around him was going on. Whether his own side had the advantage or the obviously larger group of German soldiers on the opposite side had the advantage. His vision was so narrow that it was about the width of a thumb. Malashenko, who was thin, was completely directing the battle based on experience and intuition.

"Keep fighting! Don't stop, Iushkin! Knock out all the moving Kraut tanks!"

"I know, it's being done! Kirill, where are the cannonballs? Quickly load the cannonballs! What are you doing standing there?!"

The huge diesel engine noise at full power forced the team members in the turret to communicate by shouting at the top of their lungs.

Malashenko, who was blushing and shouting orders at the top of his lungs, had just finished shouting, and Iushkin, whose face was as red as Bao Gong and was abnormally suffocated, hissed immediately, but as a fill-in for the person being questioned Kirill, however, had a look of grievance on his face and was sweating profusely due to overwork.