Chapter 737: Face-to-Face Fight

Creation is difficult, but destruction is easy.

It takes hundreds of hours and dozens of skilled workers to build a Type 4 tank equipped with an extended barrel 75mm main gun.

But to destroy this powerful war machine, you only need a light finger movement and less than a second of shell flight time.

Boom--

The Type 4 tank, which was accurately shot through the main armor of the turret by Iushkin, was like a drunk. It was just in a high-speed maneuver to avoid death, and it staggered and slowed down in an instant until it crashed into the ruins on the side and stopped on the spot.

This Type 4 tank was lucky. When the main armor of the turret was penetrated by the 85mm cap armor-piercing grenade with a large amount of explosives, and the explosives were successfully detonated in the car, there was no secondary explosion or fire. It was just paralyzed on the spot like a wild boar shot down by a hunter.

The 85mm hooded armor-piercing grenade detonated in the turret had a certain degree of impact on the specific aftereffects of killing due to the angle and narrow space.

No one would look back to care about the three dead people in the turret who had become meat paste and mud. The driver, whose legs were almost sieved by the shrapnel bouncing wildly in the car, still refused to give up hope of life. He pushed open the hatch above his head and leaned out his upper body to try to escape with his last strength.

Unfortunately, the German infantry waiting for him outside the car only had corpses lying on the ground, and those standing were glaring at him with extremely angry eyes that could almost set people on fire.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

The driver, with a bloody face and cursing the terrible scene in front of him, subconsciously reached out to touch the lining of his jacket, trying to pull out the pistol stuck in his jacket on his chest to do something.

But the Red Army soldiers, who were extremely jealous of their enemies, were obviously not fools. The possibility of making this half-dead German guy take out his gun did not exist from the beginning.

The two Red Army veterans who rushed to the front quickly climbed up the upper armor of the Type 4 tank in two steps, picked up the butt of the PPSh submachine gun in their hands and hit the bloody German driver in the face as if hitting a golf ball.

The force of the butt of the rifle that was swung hard was so great that the poor German driver did not know how many teeth had been thrown out and how much his jaw was dislocated.

The trembling hands had forgotten the impulse to pull out the gun just now, and subconsciously wanted to straighten their chins and re-align the upper and lower jaws that had been severely dislocated.

But the two Red Army veterans, who had just begun everything, did not give him a brief chance. They grabbed the collar with strong and powerful hands and pulled the German driver out of the car like a dead dog, completely ignoring the collision of his almost completely blown-up feet with only a little bone and muscle on the cold armor, and the screams of slaughtering pigs that followed.

"Ah! My feet!"

The fact that the jaw was dislocated to such an extent and could still make a sound must be said to be a miracle in the world, enough to make surgical experts who had never seen this scene shout miracles.

But the Red Army soldiers who were still busy killing more Germans obviously didn't care about these. The butts of Mosin-Nagant rifles and PPSh submachine guns with bayonets fell down like raindrops. The unlimited supply of splashing blood and the sound of the knife hitting the flesh quickly overwhelmed the screams and ended everything that was short and painful.

"Bah! Damn fascist dogs, go to hell and lick the ass of your dead dog emperor!"

The squad leader, who thought killing people was no different from stepping on an ant, turned and left first, and several Red Army soldiers who had killed the enemy followed him, leaving only a warm corpse with many knife wounds and blood still lying on the ground with its back facing up.

Similar scenes are not just isolated cases. The Red Army soldiers who were fighting with the German army tried every possible way to eliminate the enemies who were already in chaos and fighting on their own.

When the bullets were used up, they used bayonets and rifle butts, and when the weapons flew away, they used fists and teeth.

If the German resisted too fiercely, he would raise his fist to attack his lower body. He would use all his strength to punch him, and even make his crotch yolk flow out. He would roll on the ground in pain, and then the enemy who flew over would pick up the bayonet that fell on the ground and stab him in the throat. The dying corpse didn't even know whether to cover the painful lower body with his hands or cover the throat that was leaking.

The rules of the game are very simple. As long as you can kill the opponent you find within your field of vision, the process and means can be used at will without any restrictions.

The German army knew very well how fierce their opponents were in close combat, and they also knew that these Russian Ivans would do anything once they started close combat.

But there is a limit to human ethics in terms of using any means.

Like an evil spirit, he tore a piece of flesh from the throat and bit the neck until blood gushed out. He was pierced through the chest by a bayonet, but he still held on to his last breath and stabbed the bayonet into the opponent's forehead. His intestines were all spilled out and hung on the ground, but he still raised the PPSh submachine gun in his hand and fired with blood in his mouth. This kind of hell-level hand-to-hand combat that sent ethics and morals to the dogs is simply not something that humans can fight.

Having conquered the whole of Europe, they had never seen such a crazy battle. The shocked and trembling German army could not understand what was wrong with these Russians. What kind of thing could inspire such a horrible twisted will that would drag someone down with them even if they only had one breath left.

The German soldiers who were fighting the Soviet army to death with hideous faces had no time to think, and of course they had no chance to think at all. There would never be such an opportunity again, because the steel behemoths with human internal organs hanging in the gaps of the track plates had already pressed on their faces.

"The Germans are retreating! Comrade commander, they ran away! These cowards finally ran away! Haha, we won! Hurrah!"

The narrow turret space was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder that had not been completely burned out, but this still could not stop Iushkin, who witnessed the victory with his own eyes, from jumping up excitedly in his gunner position.

But Malashenko, who had already anticipated the result, was not willing to limit himself to this. The German troops, who had placed all their chips on this attack and hardly built any defensive positions, must pay a greater price for their recklessness!