Chapter 1425 Red Eagle

The 60-ton IS4 heavy tank was swaying on the bumpy off-road road. The roar of the powerful diesel engine made the tank tremble like an electric shock. Malashenko, who grew up in the countryside and had the honor of riding a tractor before traveling through time, swore that the feeling of sitting on a tank these days was not much better than the feeling of sitting in the bucket of a tractor.

Especially when the IS4 was driving on the muddy off-road road, the track rolled up a large piece of mud and splashed, and the shaking itself was a feeling, which was really indescribable.

Malashenko thought that this might be described as the feeling of sitting on an electric rocking chair, which is the kind of toy that little kids play with coins?

Maybe so, Malashenko had never sat on this thing before traveling through time.

Anyway, this strange feeling now is the kind of wrongness that you can't describe. The tank moves and pauses, moves and pauses, and then the strong sluggish feeling of the track being hugged by the mud is intertwined. Malashenko, with his hands on the turret armor and half of his body outside the tank, sighed. Few people would like the feeling of racing a tank in the mud.

"Heavy tanks are not as good as expected at times like this, but those medium tanks are impressive. Look, how fast those T34s and T43s are running. Compared with us, they are just like old men."

Looking in the direction of Iushkin's finger, Malashenko could see the medium tank marching column composed of T34s and T43s, running at full speed on the tracks in the equally bad muddy road.

Just as Iushkin said, that speed was almost as fast as lightning compared to the broken car under him. The other IS6 heavy tanks accompanying his division commander's command vehicle were not much better. They were trapped in the mud and their pace, which could have been high-speed, was as slow as a broken donkey cart.

If this trend continues, the first to encounter the enemy will definitely be the medium tank troops, which can be seen now and there is no mistake.

In the past, Malashenko would still worry about the medium tanks being defeated, but if he still worries about this now, it would be a waste of time.

No matter how powerful the Skeleton Division is, it is impossible to make a big wave in a short period of time. The medium tank troops should not kill as many Germans as possible or inflict heavy damage and casualties on the enemy. Instead, they should rush up and entangle the enemy's tail, retain as many as possible, and prevent these German sticks from running so cleanly.

Next, the final heavy tank troops will arrive and stage the final chapter of the life-and-death struggle.

The Germans can cut off their tails to survive, leaving a part of the rear guard troops and continue to flee.

But such a trick will not work too many times for Malashenko. It is easy to eat the Germans' rear guard troops, but eating each wave is equivalent to a slow death for the Germans.

This only delayed the final moment of destruction, and the countdown to death continued to move forward without stopping.

It was up to the Germans to recognize this or not, but the existing facts would never be changed by human subjective will.

Thinking of this, Malashenko, who had already formed a set of tactics in his mind, immediately bent down and retracted into the turret, took off the radio transmitter hanging beside him and pressed the communication button.

"Lavri, just like last time, you take a regiment of medium tanks to lead the charge. Just rush up and entangle those Germans and hold them back, don't bite the bones, you know what I mean, and be careful not to send yourself in."

Lavrinenko's personality is very similar to Malashenko's, both of them are used to speaking directly and rushing up to do it.

The only difference is that Malashenko, who is carrying more things on his body, must think more now, but this still does not affect Malashenko to remind his best friend and good brother to be careful and vigilant.

"You don't actually need to say all that. Just tell me what to do. When have I failed to complete a mission?"

Listening to the familiar reply with an electric sound coming from the radio, Malashenko, who knew what Lavrinenko's expression was now, just smiled.

"Be careful, my brother."

"You too."

Snap——

After hanging up the radio, Malashenko stood up and got out of the turret again. He was about to say something to Iushkin, but before he could open his mouth, he heard a burst of air-breaking whistling sound coming from behind him.

Woo——

"Huh? Aren't these guys going to sleep in today? They are so diligent."

The air-breaking whistling sound that could fly from behind him was naturally not a shell. It was the long-awaited Il-2 attack aircraft group that flew over the entire marching column.

There were quite a few of these warhawks, which the Germans called "Black Death" in horror. Malashenko looked up at the sky and saw 12 Il-2s flying in formation in the first echelon. Behind them were a large number of other Red Army fighters, which were slightly smaller and looked like a fighter formation specially sent to escort.

"Full of rockets, and there must be bombs in the belly hatch. That's it, blow up those fascist running dogs! Go, airmen! Clear the way for the heroic Stalin Guards 1st Tank Division! Ura!!!"

Perhaps it was too long since he had felt such intensive air support. Malashenko had no time to speak as a leader. He first silently chanted, and then Iushkin, who was very imposing, directly took off his tank cap, waved it high, and shouted loudly to his comrades in the sky.

It didn't matter if Iushkin didn't shout. The shout of "Ura" directly led several infantrymen sitting on the engine hood of Malashenko's car, as well as the "tank knights" on other heavy tanks around to shout together.

"Ura! Ura! Ura!"

"Charge, tear those fascists apart! Blow them up!"

"Victory belongs to the Red Army, long live Comrade Stalin!"

The effect of a person shouting is like a spark falling into a gunpowder barrel, instantly igniting the explosion and setting off a tsunami of high cheers.

The entire marching column soon turned into a boiling sea of ​​cheers and shouts, and the Il-2 attack aircraft in the sky seemed to have also felt this highly infectious formation. As the low-altitude black shadow passed over the column, it slightly tilted its wings and fuselage and slanted to a salute angle to return the salute. This feast of cheers from the air and ground linkage instantly reached its climax.

Looking at the high morale scene around him, even though Malashenko had seen many similar scenes in various war blockbusters in later generations, he still couldn't help but take off his tank cap with a smile and saluted the long-awaited war eagles in the sky.

"Bomb them all, red eagles!"