Chapter 591 The Ultimate Nightmare

With no physical advantage, the young German soldier took the initiative to attack. As expected, the brave but powerless Political Commissar Petrov was hit in the face by the oncoming fist and fell backwards.

The German soldier who succeeded in the attack took advantage of the situation and rushed forward to ride directly on the chest of the lying Political Commissar Petrov and strangled his opponent's throat.

"Uh, heh, heh, cough"

The strength of the young big hands strangling his throat was so great that Political Commissar Petrov, who had no time to breathe, felt that he couldn't breathe and was almost suffocated.

Political Commissar Petrov, whose head was already dizzy, quickly turned deep red. The German soldier who used all his strength obviously wanted to kill Political Commissar Petrov without mercy.

The huge force of both hands not only made Political Commissar Petrov unable to breathe, but even his throat was almost crushed by the German soldier who was pushing down hard.

Political Commissar Petrov struggled in vain and waved his right hand desperately at first to push away the German soldier riding on his chest, but the opponent's weight, including the equipment on his body, was at least 180 kilograms. Even through his clothes, it could be seen that he was a sturdy German with tendons and a height of nearly 1.9 meters. Political Commissar Petrov, who was nearly 50 years old and had long passed his physical prime, was simply unable to do it.

The strength of the struggle was rapidly declining at a speed visible to the naked eye. After just ten seconds, Political Commissar Petrov had almost no strength to struggle. His right hand, which was pushing on the German soldier's chest, was already struggling to hold the opponent's clothes.

Will he die here like this?

Political Commissar Petrov didn't know.

But the only thing that was certain was that Political Commissar Petrov did have a moment to recall many things in the past.

The face of Cherniaev, the face of Kirill's father that was forever frozen in the memory of his youth, and the comrades who had fallen forever on the road of fighting for their ideals

In a moment that could not be accurately measured and defined by time units, all the past memories surged from the deepest part of his heart like a flood that broke through the dam and rushed into the heart of Political Commissar Petrov. The slide-like playback images that passed by could almost forcefully break a person's will.

The final moment of life and death has arrived.

Just when Political Commissar Petrov had no strength to hold the other's clothes, and his right hand was loosened and drooped down, an unexpected figure suddenly rushed out before anyone could react.

"Wooah!!!"

Bang——

Political Commissar Petrov would never have thought that Andrei, who had also lost an arm, would suddenly rush out without any wound bandages, with blood still falling from the wound of his broken arm, like a mad bull, and knocked the German soldier riding on him to the ground with his head.

Andrei, who had knocked over the German soldier, immediately rolled over and wrestled with him.

Commissar Petrov, who had recovered his breath instantly, was breathing heavily as if he had been reborn. The wide-brimmed hat on his head had been blown away to an unknown place. When his blurred vision gradually became clearer and his breathing was basically recovered, Commissar Petrov, who did not dare to be negligent, immediately grabbed the things beside him, supported himself with one hand, staggered and ran away.

"Damn fascists! Bastard Nazi running dogs!"

Platoon leader Andrei, who cursed the enemy loudly, was able to suppress his opponent at first.

But similar to Commissar Petrov, the German soldier who realized that his opponent was actually a disabled arm quickly pulled out an arm and punched Andrei's broken arm wound mercilessly and fiercely.

Instantly, Andrei, who was grimacing in pain, stopped beating the German soldier with one hand. The German soldier who seized the opportunity pressed him to the ground and punched him in the face.

No one would have expected that a man with only one arm left could still hold a bayoneted rifle to charge, just like the German soldier who beat Andrei never expected that he would be attacked from behind and killed.

The bayonet that had killed one German soldier pierced the chest of the second German soldier. The German soldier whose heart was pierced by a knife stared with his eyes wide open and couldn't even scream. With an unbelievable and unwilling face that couldn't look back, his head tilted and fell to the ground.

Holding the bayoneted Mauser 98K rifle that had been pulled out from the back of the corpse as a crutch, Political Commissar Petrov, who was still breathing heavily, struggled to speak to Andrei, who was seriously injured and fell to the ground.

"Stand up! Comrade Andrei, don't tell me you really fell down!"

The pale face of excessive blood loss seemed to be responding to the words of Political Commissar Petrov and frowned slightly. Feeling that he had lost half of his life, Andrei supported himself with one hand and sat up on the ground. The scene of shouting and killing around him was still deafening, which made him dare not slack off his nerves.

"Fascists, damn fascists! I can kill more fascists!"

No one would doubt the authenticity of these words that were almost roared in a low voice, just as no one would doubt how firm the faith of Political Commissar Petrov was when he swore allegiance under the red flag.

The two half-crippled people who had also lost their left arms leaned on each other and supported each other.

Political Commissar Petrov clenched the enemy's weapon with a bloody bayonet in his hand. Andrei, who had been carrying the PPSh submachine gun across his back, had also finished reloading with one hand and pointed the black muzzle of the gun towards the enemy.

Around them, the German soldiers who had killed a considerable number of militia soldiers once again surrounded the two of them. The German squad leader, who still had ammunition in his submachine gun, raised his weapon first.

Boom--

The sound of a cannon without warning tore through the silence that seemed to be suspended in time.

The German squad leader, who had just raised his weapon and had not had time to pull the trigger, was blown into two pieces on the spot. His upper body flew backwards and hung upside down on the wreckage of a German Type 3 tank that had been destroyed at some unknown time. His bloody intestines flowed on the ground for several meters, which looked quite eye-catching.

In the direction of the village, Malashenko, who had crushed and destroyed the German tanks that had rushed into the village, was commanding his bullet-riddled vehicle to rush forward at high speed.

The blood had dyed the number 177 on the white painted front armor of the vehicle into a scarlet color. The IS1 prototype turret, which had been hit by countless German armor-piercing shells, was scratched like a target. The roaring diesel engine was announcing the arrival of the final end to everyone present with its powerful power.

This battle-scarred steel behemoth will become the ultimate nightmare that all surviving German soldiers who witnessed this scene will never be able to erase in their lives.