Chapter 672 Death Block (Part 1)

"Igor, just call me Igor, comrade commander."

After being grabbed by Malashenko and pulled directly into the car, the young lieutenant who held the turret armor with his hands and sat behind the turret noticed the symbol on Malashenko's car.

"Your tank is really special, comrade commander, I have never seen a tank with this kind of symbol, but it seems a little familiar, I can't remember it."

The young lieutenant wrote all his true thoughts on his face without hiding anything, and Malashenko, who was still half drooping outside the turret to get a better view, smiled faintly.

"Have you heard of the First Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment? Comrade Igor."

Igor, who was holding his somewhat worn-out PPSh submachine gun in his arms, was slightly stunned. He could clearly feel the tank restarting under him, and seemed to suddenly realize something.

"I am Malashenko, the lieutenant colonel commander of the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment. Welcome to join the battle, comrade second lieutenant."

According to Malashenko's original idea when he formulated the combat plan, after entering the city, the 1st Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment under his command should immediately find friendly infantry units that can cooperate with them in the battle, and then split the troops and make adjustments according to the specific situation, and divide the entire regiment into multiple infantry-tank coordinated mixed combat groups to avoid the embarrassment of the brigade tanks being unable to deploy in the city.

But Malashenko obviously doesn't have the time to deal with these problems at present. The sound of gunfire is still approaching from a maximum of one block away. The sound of gunfire alone is enough to judge that the current battle is definitely not favorable to the Soviet side.

Pulling the understaffed infantry company brought by Lieutenant Igor outside the tank and running at high speed, Malashenko, who drove forward at full throttle on the flat urban road, arrived at the front line where the gunfire was flying soon.

As soon as he passed the intersection in front of him, several bullets, whether stray bullets or direct bullets, hit him in the face. Malashenko, who was still half-hanging outside the turret, subconsciously shrank back into the car and was almost hit. The bullets hitting the turret and the front armor of the vehicle made a clanging sound and sparks flew. The sudden bullets obviously scared Malashenko, who had shrunk back half of his body.

"Iushkin, at the 11 o'clock direction of the intersection in front of us, there is a German Type 3 tank, kill it!"

Malashenko, who was almost killed by a bullet, was determined to report his flaws. After looking in the general direction of the bullet, he immediately saw a German Type 3 iron turtle squatting at the intersection of the block less than 500 meters away from him.

The relatively flat roads in the city have much less impact on the shaking of the tank during movement than in off-road situations. The skilled and daring Iushkin stepped on the firing pedal and fired instantly without waiting for the driver Seryosha to stop the car completely.

The 85mm fixed-cap armor-piercing grenade that had been loaded in the gun barrel suddenly rushed out of the muzzle with a death spiral. The German No. 3 tank, which was facing the side of Malashenko, had no idea of ​​the sudden attack of death.

The 85mm cap armor-piercing grenade that could easily penetrate a tiger easily tore open the side armor of the poor No. 3 tank. Because the firing was more or less shaking during movement, and not because Lieutenant Iushkin was too accurate in seconds, the shot was a little off.

After tearing open the armor on the upper side of the No. 3 tank near the turret, the shells did not detonate the chassis ammunition rack, but detonated on the spot in the center of the three German crew members in the turret near the roof.

The TNT charge in the warhead of the 164-gram projectile fired successfully by the armor-piercing time-delay fuse tore the heads of the three German crew members apart, and the three people's bodies above the waist were almost completely blown into a pile of rotten bones and flesh, and they died instantly.

Brain matter mixed with rotten blood and rotten flesh was scattered all over the ground, and the fragments of the projectiles that splashed around in the car cut the fuel tank and ignited the internal fuel. The German No. 3 tank, which had become a zombie, immediately burst into flames and began to count down to the explosion and caught fire.

What surprised Malashenko, who had been watching his opponent with the commander's periscope, was that this No. 3 tank, which he thought should have killed all the people in the car, actually had a living person who could climb out by himself!

A bloody left hand stretched out from the hatch of the driver's position at the front of the tank that was pushed open. After grabbing the outer armor of the tank, he immediately tried to climb out of the burning tank with all his strength but with great difficulty.

When the German driver fully extended his upper body, Malashenko discovered that the right half of the unfortunate man's body had been almost completely blown to pieces by the shells. The broken bones at the shoulder, connected with a few strands of flesh and blood, hung in the air in an unusually abrupt manner, which was extremely eye-catching and shocking. However, even so, the German tank driver with an extremely strong desire to survive was still making his last effort.

"Damn Nazi! Hurry up and die!"

It seemed to be a miracle for Iushkin's curse.

The wreckage of the No. 3 tank, which was constantly emitting flames from the hatch on the top of the turret, was finally detonated by the high temperature of the flames, and the ammunition rack stored in the chassis was exploded.

The entire tank turret was like a carbonated soda bottle cap that was shaken violently, and was pushed up by the strong flame shock wave.

The powerful ammunition explosion not only blew off the head of the Type 3 tank, but the flames that instantly swept in from the inside of the tank also swallowed up the lower body of the German driver who was still inside the tank and had not yet climbed out.

Malachenko, who had good eyesight, saw clearly from his tank commander's periscope that the upper body of the German driver, whose right arm was missing and whose lower body was completely blown to pieces, was blown forward by the strong shock wave of the ammunition explosion behind him.

The upper body of the corpse, which had flown a full seven or eight meters along the street, then crashed into a street electric pole and fell to the ground.

The blue-gray intestines drooped on the ground and were dragged a full two or three meters away. The upper body of the corpse, which had no movement, was placed on the side of the road with its back against the electric pole in a very strange posture.

Malachenko could not see the specific facial expression of the German driver's body now.

But in short, in Malachenko's estimation, the hideous and painful expression should be enough to give nightmares to children under the age of eighteen.

A Type 3 tank that was killed by Malachenko was just a microcosm of the fierce battle at the entire street intersection.

Next to the burning and shattered wreckage of the Type 3 tank, the Soviet and German soldiers, who were no more than a hundred meters away, were fighting desperately with gritting their teeth and blood flowing like a river.