Chapter 438: Destroyed Humanity
The fierce bloody battle between the fighter formations could not stop the Soviet ground attack formations, which were also determined to die, from continuing to pour deadly firepower on the German ground forces.
The Soviet ground attack formations, which were flying through the chaos of hundreds of fighter planes, took advantage of every opportunity to attack. Any opportunity for attack would be turned into an actual attack by these Soviet pilots who kept their eyes fixed on the ground.
The few remaining weapons mounted on the wings and belly of the aircraft continued to pour down on the exposed German anti-tank gun crews. The aerial rockets, which were powerful enough to directly destroy tank targets by pouring them down, ruthlessly tore the bodies of German soldiers. The 100-kilogram aerial bombs specially prepared for attacking small ground targets turned the German gun crews, including the guns, into a wisp of green smoke.
The Soviet fighter formation, which had no word "retreat" in its dictionary, was almost beaten out of its mind. The German fighter pilots, whose adrenaline soared to the extreme in the fierce air battle with blood staining the sky, had no time to care about anything else.
If the German pilots had the slightest intention to attack those Soviet attack planes and bombers, they would be detected in time by the Soviet fighters in the fierce battle and then seize the opportunity to intercept them.
Several attempts to attack those Soviet attack planes and bombers were fruitless, but they were shot down by the Soviet fighters who took the opportunity to bite their tails.
Realizing that they could not fight against the Soviet fighters in front of them without solving the group of desperate Soviet fighters in front of them, they could not fight at a lower altitude. The German fighter formation, which had a clear judgment of the current situation, simply gave up the plan a moment ago without any hesitation, and once again concentrated all its strength into the fierce battle with the Soviet fighter formation.
Knowing that his comrades in the sky were risking their lives to buy him precious attack time in seconds, Malashenko, who knew that he had to race against time, stared at the German position in front of him with gloomy eyes, which was less than a hundred meters away.
Despite the dense firepower of Soviet attack aircraft and bombers, he still fought to the death, relying on the broken small water pipe anti-tank guns in his hands to continue to do useless work against the Soviet tank cluster that was about to rush to the position.
He could clearly see the distorted and panicked faces of the German soldiers on the position. Without any hesitation, Malashenko stretched out the Suomi submachine gun in his hand from the edge of the opened turret top cover, pulled the trigger and poured out his fiery anger at the German soldiers who had entered the effective firing range of the Suomi submachine gun.
The sound of Malashenko's firing, with his upper body out of the turret, was like a death knell. Even if the gun mirror kept shaking in the last few dozen meters of the charge, it was enough to blow the German anti-tank gun crews into pieces.
Iushkin, who was sure that he had a firm grasp, instantly stepped on the firing pedal under his feet. The muzzle of the 57mm tank gun, which had been silent since it came off the production line, immediately shook and sprayed out a dazzling muzzle fire. The 57mm high-explosive grenade, which had a pitiful amount of charge but still caused devastating damage to the flesh-and-blood infantry, immediately rushed out of the barrel at high speed and crashed into the target that was close at hand.
The temporary German anti-tank team, which had fired at least a dozen armor-piercing shells at Malashenko's tank group, was instantly in trouble. The flying hot shrapnel and the powerful explosion flames brought complete destruction to the anti-tank guns and German soldiers.
The broken limbs and arms were scattered with blood and internal organs along with the anti-tank gun parts. The 57mm high-explosive grenade, which was not powerful enough but still enough to destroy the flesh and tear the gun steel, became a cruel killing weapon.
The 85mm high-explosive grenade hit almost all the bodies, but the less powerful 57mm high-explosive grenade made some German soldiers on the edge half dead.
The German soldiers whose lower bodies were blown into pieces by the 57mm high-explosive grenade let out miserable wails and heart-wrenching sounds. The broken organs and large intestines extending from the pale and scarlet spine fractures were mixed with blood and spilled all over the ground.
The German soldier who failed to die on the spot waved his hands in vain, trying to stuff the broken organs back into his stomach.
He had just grabbed his intestines with his own hands, but before he could do anything, he felt the ground shaking enough to tremble all over. This German soldier, who had seen the Soviet T34 tank more than once, had never felt this nearly indestructible steel beast. It was so frightening and soul-shaking when looking at it directly at a very close distance.
The German soldier was so frightened by the T34 tank that had run over the broken position and was rumbling towards him that he turned around and crawled away without bothering to stuff the bloody intestines in his hands back into his stomach.
His hands, stained with warm blood, dug out bright red handprints on the white and cold frozen snow layer. The difficult crawling, like in the zombie movies of later generations, did not bring any mercy to Malashenko, who witnessed all this.
Malashenko, who could have asked Seryosha to change the route immediately with just one order, did not do so. This life-and-death fight between opposing ideologies did not require any unnecessary mercy.
In the snow layer that was thick enough to cover the ankles, two deep tracks were left like the footsteps of the god of death. The steel tracks rolled straight over the already dead and half-crippled body without any hesitation.
The steel body with a combat weight of up to 28 tons instantly crushed the bloody and half-remaining flesh, and the entire broken upper body exploded like an unopened milk carton crushed by a foot. A shrill scream of death lasted less than two seconds, and then it was forcibly covered by the roar of the diesel engine and disappeared in an instant.
The warm and still bloody pieces hanging in the gaps between the track plates left a long scarlet track behind Malashenko's car. Malashenko, who did not feel any cruelty or guilt in his heart, continued to give orders and command the battle with a firm look. This cruel fight of steel and blood had already wiped out the last bit of humanity of the two warring parties.
With the T34 tank group rushing forward, it finally rushed into the mottled and broken German positions. Commander Yakov, who was hanging outside the tank and suffered heavy losses along the way, was already full of anger.
He had killed more than one Japanese devil with a bayonet-mounted Mosin-Nagant rifle, and not long ago, he swept through German soldiers like a death squad with the latest PPSh submachine gun.
Apart from the army, there was no other place where he could legally kill people. Lieutenant Colonel Yakov, who had a contradictory desire to kill and a firm belief, immediately jumped off the tank and shouted.