Chapter 948 Chronic Death

Instead of ordering a full-speed charge, Malashenko only maintained a constant speed in second gear and accurately grasped the rhythm of the attack.

The relatively flat and not particularly bumpy ruins road under the tracks is much better than the off-road state. In this case, using the second gear to advance at a constant speed can ensure that the main gun jitter is within the acceptable range as much as possible. At the current close range of only more than a hundred meters, there is basically no situation where a high-explosive bomb misses the target and cannot kill a person.

On the other hand, advancing at a constant speed in second gear is also a good offensive rhythm that allows the infantry to take their time and advance while firing, which is enough to keep up with the tanks. At the same time, the machine gunner who controls the turret machine gun can also try to improve the accuracy as much as possible, so that the ballistic trajectory will not become as accurate as peeing due to the shaking of the tank as it advances.

Although the time to crush the Germans will be delayed a bit, it is ultimately the most appropriate tactic with more advantages than disadvantages. As the decision-maker of the order, Malashenko enjoys this slow death of slowly crushing the enemy like a hydraulic machine. process.

When a person is shot to death by a sudden bullet, it will definitely be because the death comes too suddenly, and there is no time to regret or make changes.

But if a person is tied to the execution pillar and watches the high-speed chain saw blade approaching his neck little by little, his neck will be split open in a predictable short period of time, and his blood will flow like blood. When the spring springs.

Then there is a high probability that this person will cry miserably and beg for a chance to live. No matter how much he has exceeded the lower limit before or how despicable the conditions are, he will cry and agree for the chance of survival.

mother, father, god

All the people who can pray and cry out should be called out one by one. They don't ask for anything else, as long as they can survive.

Therefore, Malashenko's use of this tactic of slowly tormenting the German army actually included this consideration.

Judging from the current style of play and situation, Malashenko estimates that it is not far away from the final node he expected. There should be a lot of people in this group of Germans who do not want to die here.

"It's almost time. These Germans have reached their limit."

Malashenko muttered something softly, and Iush, the golden-eared thief who was taking aim, turned around instantly.

"What's reaching the limit? What are you talking about?"

"You can tell just by looking at your gun scope, I don't need to tell you anymore."

Unsure of what was going on, Iushkin turned around and put his right eye over the gun scope, only to see the white flag rising on the dilapidated and ruined German position opposite.

"We have laid down our weapons and decided to cease fighting and surrender. Please do not fire! I repeat, we do not pose any threat. Please do not fire!"

Facts have proved that the desperate German army was at least not crazy enough to play the Banzai Charge like the Japanese.

As long as the physical and will endurance limits of these German soldiers are exceeded, they will still raise the white flag and raise their hands to surrender.

This short-lived battle did not bring many casualties to Malashenko. The IS1 heavy tank with strong armor protection is an indestructible mobile siege fortress as long as the tactics are properly applied and coordinated. A small group of German troops with anti-armor heavy weapons were even more handy.

It took time to gather and deal with the surrendering German troops. Malashenko, who had been holding back the urge to pee since the battle broke out, was finally able to leave his tank and open the floodgates to release the water and experience the refreshing feeling.

He found a corner against the wall and discharged the flood. Malashenko was wearing his armed belt, turning around and walking. Captain Varosha, who was holding a Bobosha submachine gun in his hand, looked at him as if he had found some incredible treasure. He ran over excitedly.

"Comrade Malashenko, we have made a major discovery! There is actually a lieutenant colonel among these Germans! It seems that he should know a lot of useful things for us, and he is being held there."

"Oh? A lieutenant colonel?"

Malashenko, who refastened his armed belt and freed his hands, was a little surprised.

This group of Germans who were eliminated without much effort was at best less than a battalion in size. Of course, it could also be that an infantry battalion that was originally fully staffed was crippled to the miserable level it is today.

No matter what the situation was, Malashenko really didn't expect that such a little German could be led by a lieutenant colonel commander. This was a once-in-a-lifetime good fortune. He had to go and interrogate it personally to find out the truth.

"This is very important. You have done a good job of screening the prisoners, Captain Varosha! Now take me there to take a look. We won't stay too long, so hurry up!"

"Okay, Comrade Malashenko, please come with me, right here."

Malashenko, who was trotting over all the way, anticipated many possible situations, but he never expected that the captured German lieutenant colonel would look like this.

There were more than one hole in the crooked military cap, and it was unclear whether it was caused by a bullet or something.

The military uniform on his body was like a hard worker who had just escaped from the black coal kiln of the later era. Not only was it in tatters, it was also stained with various stains and blood stains. It was black and red, and some parts were even black and red.

Especially the pair of German military trousers that should be as straight and neat as a suit, are now like a ball of toilet paper that has been casually crumpled in the pocket. After taking it out and opening it again, it is wrinkled and even the knee of the right leg is worn. A hole as big as a fist was opened.

Those turbid but cold blue eyes were staring directly at Malashenko. The large blood stains and muddy dirt on his face were scabbed. At first glance, it was not clear whether it was the German lieutenant colonel's own blood.

If he had washed his face, he should still have a handsome face, but now he was just a miserable, dirty-faced cat. Malashenko is probably Oscar, the Bismarck cow and kitten, and the pattern on his face is simpler than that of the German lieutenant colonel.

"Who gave the surrender order? Was it you?"

Malashenko, who was in a hurry and had no time to continue inking, chose to ask the question first.

The German lieutenant colonel, who was forced to kneel on the ground by two armed Red Army soldiers with one hand and one shoulder, seemed to be glaring at Malashenko. After being silent for about three seconds, he finally spoke slowly.

"You are not like the rumors. Many people say that the Steel Butcher is an old man with a big beard, a fierce face, and looks like Stalin. But you look like a waiter in a restaurant, and you are also very popular with ladies. The kind we welcome.”

Hearing this, Malashenko was stunned for a moment, but soon changed his smile and spoke with curiosity.

"How do you know I am the Iron Butcher? I am just an ordinary tank commander."

The German lieutenant colonel who was forced to kneel on the ground smiled miserably, shook his head slowly, and then answered without any doubt.

"There should be no second such ferocious No. 177 heavy tank in Stalingrad, either before or now."

"Am I right? Mr. Malashenko, Colonel and Commander of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Brigade."