Chapter 1999 "Fairy Air"

[Recite the URL three times silently. Do you remember it? If not, I will ask again in the next chapter. It would be best if you share it on Facebook for me]

Although it is really too damn hard to bear, Artyom, who was born as a shipbuilder, did rely on the training of his job to build a super strong physique before responding to the call and joining the army to defend his country.

This is the biggest asset and reason why Artyom can become an elite loader, especially among the Red Army tank soldiers with various terrifying large calibers.

Artyom, who used all his strength to grit his teeth to fight for this breath, finally held his breath and put the thick and huge propellant cartridge on the slide rail by himself, ready to go.

"Ramstick! Quick!"

The other loader who had put the projectile into the loading position of the slide rail was not idle either. While Artyom was holding the propellant cartridge and loading it, he quickly turned around and grabbed the ramstick that was within reach.

Before Artyom finished calling for the ramstick, he had already delivered the other end of the ramstick to his partner.

"Ready, go!"

"Hah!!!"

Clang--

A burst of metallic noises came from the connection between the slide rail and the breech block. The propellant cartridge and the projectile were finally pushed into the chamber manually again. After consuming a longer loading time than the previous 7 firings, it was finally done.

Bang--

"Armor-piercing projectile is good! Loading is complete!"

Pulling the breech block closing lever and shouting, Artyom and another assistant loader who had done all this, of course, knew what would happen next.

Boom——

Holding the left and right sides of the tank cap with both hands, he quickly backed away and raised his feet to dodge. The roaring sound of the main gun firing echoed in his ears again, along with the bursts of hot gunpowder that gushed out along with the breech block and the shells.

The S70 130mm main gun, which was directly transplanted from the naval gun and slightly modified, does not have such a high-end thing as a barrel smoke extractor. This means that this naval gun vehicle version with a super large chamber volume will inevitably spray a large amount of firing smoke back into the vehicle after each firing.

If this is placed in a naval gun turret with a large enough space or even half-open in the open air, there is of course no problem.

But the problem is that the vehicle carrying this gun is not a warship but a small and closed tank.

In combat, the IS7 with all hatches closed can only exchange air with the outside world through small ventilation fans located in several different positions in the body and turret.

Although Shashmulin had realized that this powerful main gun would be a big smoke gun that was difficult to serve when he designed it, he specially added a ventilation fan for the IS7 and used a stronger drive motor to increase the operating power, making it more efficient in ventilation work.

But to be honest, this is still just a drop in the bucket compared to the "gun breech exhaust" that flows back into the car at the burst rate of fire.

"Cough, cough, cough, it's too choking! No, we have to think of a way. If this goes on, everyone in the car will faint, cough."

Iushkin, who had been smoked to tears without knowing it, kept waving his hands and complaining loudly. Malashenko, who was also smoked with red eyes, had no other choice but to raise his hand and give orders to Artyom standing on the other side.

"Quick, open the top cover! Push the top cover open! Quick! Cough cough cough"

At the moment, there is no close combat, and no German infantry is approaching. There is really no need to worry about the grenade being thrown into the car through the open top cover. It is understandable that Malashenko, who was forced to do this, can be regarded as a last resort.

"Got it, open it now! Cough cough"

Bang--

Accompanied by the sound of the turret top cover being opened outward, the air quality in the car instantly felt like the first clear day after the rain. Iushkin, who felt like "finally alive", couldn't help but complain.

"There is a problem with this gun. The smoke is too big. It's almost killing me! I almost choked to death just now, cough"

Iushkin thought that Malashenko would agree with his idea, but what was waiting for him on the driver's side was an unthinking rebuttal on the spot.

"How dare you say that! The first ammunition rack was completely used up in less than a minute, seven shots in total! Do you know what seven shots in a minute means? This is a 130mm naval gun, not a small water pipe! Use your brain to think about why it is so powerful. Do you understand the chemistry of propellant conversion? Do you understand!?"

""

Ivushkin, who just said it subconsciously, really realized that he had gone too far. If there was anyone to blame, it would definitely be him.

In other words, everyone in the car had the right to complain, except him. The combat firing rate that could keep two sturdy loaders busy, and the smoke that flowed back into the car and could not be exhausted, it would be a ghost. If anyone had a little idea in mind, he would know who to blame for this problem.

"Okay, stop talking nonsense! Keep loading, or armor-piercing shells! Aim at the next target, quickly!"

Taking the opportunity to ventilate and take a breath, Malashenko quickly led all his crew members back to combat status.

It was only when Malashenko's head moved back to the commander's periscope and he looked out at the outside world with his eyes wide open that he realized that after a brief moment of losing his sight, the battlefield situation had changed again.

The German heavy tanks that were originally in the back were now roaring around the wreckage or running over the smaller parts of their comrades' tanks.

These remaining German heavy tanks not only refused to surrender, but also dared to continue to charge forward!

Okay, if you want to die, don't blame others! I'll fulfill your wish!

Malashenko, who had made up his mind, stared at the target within his sight, picked up the radio transmitter at hand and pressed the button, and then blurted out the order that had been in his heart for a while.

"Switch to high-explosive shells! Aim at the Germans' heavy garbage and concentrate your firepower! Blast these fascist bastards back to their mothers' wombs!"

The 122mm heirloom main gun used by the IS6 cannot do anything to the frontal armor of the King Tiger at a conventional distance. Even to penetrate the gun shield, it must get close enough to the face and adjust the firing angle inside and outside. This is the truth proved by many previous actual combat experiences and rear target shooting tests.

The new armor-piercing shells for the 122mm gun are still under development and improvement. The batch that Kotin provided to Malashenko before was the only remaining stock of the earlier test shells, and they would be useless after they were used up. The ridiculously poor accuracy comparable to the era of line-up execution also doomed this model to have many problems. In theory, it is a seriously unqualified test shell that will not be mass-produced.

The new improvement plan is still being demonstrated and improved. Even if the test goes well, it will take some time before it can be mass-produced. So the current leader division is in such an awkward period of "the only test shells have been used up, and the new batch of better shells have to wait", and there are no armor-piercing shells available.

Under such a premise, using conventional full-caliber armor-piercing shells to bombard the King Tiger at this distance can only be a scratch, and there is no actual effect except for hearing a sound and scratching the paint.

Since the Germans are charging now, I have the advantage of being stationary, which is weak and I am strong.

Then what are you still doing? Switch to high-explosive shells and bomb!

It's not that there were no King Tigers who were killed by 122mm grenades before, and more than once.

If you can do it once, you can do it a second time! Malashenko is determined to send away the "Tiger dead" with grenades of sufficient caliber.

[Do you remember that I asked you to recite it three times at the beginning of the chapter? Sharing on Facebook may have a surprise]