Arc of Fire

Chapter 193: Prison (Extra for 20,000 monthly votes)

To the east of Orachi City, in the forested positions.

Grigori shouted to boost morale, “It’s just the artillery that’s gone! Get your Molotov cocktails ready! Tanks aren’t so scary, all you need to do is hit the rear deck!”

As soon as he finished speaking, enemy tanks began their machine gun strafing runs.

In reality, at this time the tanks were still more than five hundred meters away from the attacking formation and the woods, so the machine guns could only hit targets by chance.

Especially since tank coaxial machine guns were not capable of precise aim, relying on tracer rounds to correct their trajectory.

But as long as the machine gun bullets were ripping through the bark of the white birch trees and the wood shavings were still greeting the soldiers’ faces and falling into their collars, the machine gunfire was a huge blow to morale.

The fifth Bieshensk was a unit that took a shortcut through the Guardian Army.

Panic-stricken soldiers began to run out of the trenches, fleeing backward.

Grigori switched off the safety on his submachine gun and with a short burst, he brought down two fleeing soldiers.

“By the Tsar’s command! Deserters and turncoats are to be seen as traitors,” he roared, “According to the order, your families should all be implicated, but I am merciful and will only kill the traitors themselves! Stay in your original positions!”

At that moment, an enemy Mark IV fired a shot, hitting the thickest white birch in the forest and breaking the trunk in two, with half of the large tree falling to the ground.

Grigori dodged the tree trunk, but as he avoided it, two more deserters rushed out of the trench.

Grigori fired at their backs, shouting as he shot, “Think carefully! You may survive if you keep resisting, but you’ll definitely die if you run!”

Just then, from the other end of the position, cheers erupted, even overpowering the roar of the enemy tanks.

Grigori looked over with confusion and saw tank number 422 weaving through the large fires and thick smoke of the artillery positions.

The tank fired, the armor-piercing shell whistling through the forest and striking a Mark IV precisely.

More T34s followed the 422, advancing and firing at the enemy as they went.

The enemy, which had been aggressively advancing just moments before, suddenly stopped and began to reverse.

It’s possible that these Prussian Tank Operators had already learned from the experiences shared by other units that they should keep their distance from the T34s—most T34s were incredibly poor at hitting targets at long range.

The retreat of the tank units caused the skirmish line following the tanks to also begin retreating.

Seeing this, the T34 squadron crossed the woods and began chasing the enemy tanks.

At this time, a recruit from the fifth Bieshensk asked, “Why is there someone standing behind every tank?”

Before Grigori could answer, the lead tank, number 422, stopped, and the people on the engine covers of the other tanks opened the hatches and shouted something inside. ?

Eventually, all the tanks stopped just past the treeline, firing at the retreating enemy.

The Prussian tankers who had just been willing to exchange fire with the T34s finally released smoke and chose to retreat.

In Orachi City, at the temporary headquarters of the 151st Division.

“Okay, understood, you did well,” Pavlov said as he put down the receiver, “The eastern side is also blocked. Two T34s had their turrets jammed, the enemy’s firing accuracy is very high! Plus the ones just damaged by the Stukas, we now only have 6 intact T34s left.”

Wang Zhong: “Do all six have radios?”

Pavlov shook his head: “No, the enemy tanks seem to be targeting the ones with radio antennas. They must already know that our standard tanks are without radios.”

Wang Zhong shook his head, no longer wanting to comment on the weaknesses of the T34.

Next year must get some Shermans, or even if not, some M3 Grant Lees would be good; those things are excellent as tank destroyers.

At least every tank would have a radio.

Pavlov: “The good news is that the offensive has paused, and half the day is already gone.”

Wang Zhong looked at his watch, only to realize it was already one o’clock in the afternoon.

Just then, the phone rang again.

Pavlov complained, “It better not be the enemy attacking again.”

He picked up the receiver: “Division headquarters, go ahead. Understood.”

After hanging up the phone, Pavlov looked at Wang Zhong with a bitter expression: “The thing we feared the most has happened; the enemy has crossed the highway from the southwest and is circling around, it looks like they’re preparing to launch an offensive at the pasture as well.”

Wang Zhong also furrowed his brow: “We had a good plan originally, digging tank emplacements over there so our T34s could resist if the enemy attacked. But now there are only six intact T34s left.”

“The good news is that the workers are rushing to repair the T34s damaged on the side of hill 153.”

The tractor factory workers are saving my life—Wang Zhong sincerely thought.

Pavlov: “But right now, only the minefields stand in the way of the enemy charging into the city. The good news is, our minefields are quite thick, the enemy will need to use artillery to clear a path, that’s probably going to take an hour or two to blast, which means at least until three o’clock in the afternoon, we don’t have to worry about the pasture side.

“But if the enemy deploys engineers to clear the mines with explosive charges, then the pasture side will be in trouble soon.

“Generally, minefields need the protection of machine guns and anti-tank guns to prevent the enemy’s engineers from quickly clearing them. But…”

Wang Zhong shook his head, interrupting the chief of staff, “The enemy can create smoke, you forgot.”

Pavlov looked at the ceiling, “Yeah, create smoke. The Prussians love doing that. It would be great if we could figure out something to see through their smoke.”

Thermal imaging, perhaps, but given Ante’s level of technology, it probably wouldn’t be that simple.

On the other hand, the Prussians, who had Fritz X radio-controlled bombs from the start of the war, might develop technology faster than in the actual World War II.

Damn, it wouldn’t be like that German game “Armored Legion 2”, with Me 262s and Ho 229s filling the skies by ’43… That would be hell mode, only hope for a miracle from the heavenly army (US forces).

Pavlov didn’t know what Wang Zhong was thinking, and continued his train of thoughts, “Anyhow, in no more than two hours, there will be defensive pressure from the direction of the pasture. And we’ve run out of troops.”

Just then, the telephone rang again, Pavlov muttered, “I hope it’s not bad news,” and picked up the receiver, “Division headquarters, speak.”

The next moment, he handed the receiver to Wang Zhong, “It’s Popov.”

Wang Zhong took the call, “I am Rocossov, what’s going on?”

“There are two more Guardian Army camps here at the church, should I send them somewhere?”

Wang Zhong glanced at Pavlov and decisively replied, “Send them to the pasture.”

Popov was shocked, “The pasture? Didn’t we say during the terrain survey that it’s not suitable for defense?”

“Abandon the pasture, defend the houses and streets around the pasture.”

Popov, “Are you planning to have the Guardian Army fight street battles? They’ll get badly bullied by the enemy!”

Wang Zhong, “Do you think I want that? The enemy has already deployed by the pasture, and there’s only a minefield stopping them. If we don’t send someone to defend this district, they’ll pierce through to our heart! Once we are cut off by the enemy in the center, all defense will be but empty talk!”

Popov was silent for a second, then said, “Alright, I’ll send them to the pasture.

“Besides, the Labor Camp is insistent that we arm them, they want to defend their hometown themselves.”

Wang Zhong, “Do they know how to use Molotov cocktails?”

“Of course, we’ve been teaching them that for days.”

Wang Zhong further asked, “Do we have any surplus weapons?”

“A fair number of Mosin–Nagants and some shotguns.”

While Popov spoke, Wang Zhong heard someone shouting from the other side of the line, “Just give us something that can kill!”

Wang Zhong, “Issue them the guns, and if there are still people who want weapons after the supply runs out, let them specialize in throwing Molotov cocktails.”

Popov was silent for a few seconds, then replied, “I admit that I deliberately pushed this decision onto you, I didn’t expect you to make it so decisively.”

“Because I’ve seen hell,” answered Wang Zhong, “I know what it takes to stop hell from descending.”

“You’re doing the right thing. I’ll arm the civilians now. By the way, I heard the artillery has stopped outside, how’s the situation?”

“We have temporarily repelled the enemy’s assault, but the situation is worse than in the morning. We are surrounded, trapped.”

Wang Zhong spoke very calmly, as if stating something as routine as ordinary.

Popov sensed this and chuckled, “I’ve been with your forces for less than a month—is it a month yet?”

“Just arrived.”

“Yes, just arrived. And I already feel like being trapped and facing an enemy far more numerous than us is a normal thing. And that you’ll hold out as usual until the mission is complete.”

Wang Zhong was about to answer, to boast a little, but he changed his mind at the last minute.

This time, it truly seemed impossible to hold out until the southwest Front Army could escape. The enemy’s second armored group would definitely bypass Orachi and begin their deadly sprint.

The Southwest Front Army’s best evacuation route would be cut off, and he could only watch it all happen helplessly.

The brother of this body, his father, and his dear friends would be encircled at Argesukov.

In such a situation, Wang Zhong truly couldn’t afford to be brave anymore.

Popov seemed to understand it all, “You’ve done everything you could, heroically resisted here for two days – this is the third day! I believe nobody could have done better than you.”

Wang Zhong, “Thank you. Arm the people, prepare for the worst.”

“I will. Over,” said Popov as he hung up the phone.

No sooner had Wang Zhong put down the receiver than the phone began to ring urgently again. He picked it up without hesitation, “I’m Rocossov, what is it?”

Brother Peter’s voice came through in a panic from the other end, “Route 217! The sound of airplanes is the same as the one Loktov threw that radio-controlled bomb from last time, and there are two of them! Two! Two bombers carrying those kinds of huge bombs are coming at us from high altitude!”

Wang Zhong, “Are you sure?”

“I’m certain, I set the acoustic array to narrow-beam mode, sacrificing coverage for performance, so I can hear very clearly, it’s Route 217! Just like the one last time that almost blew up your fiancée! Exactly the same!”

Wang Zhong went to the window and switched to bird’s-eye view mode, but could see no enemy aircraft—Brother Peter had switched the sonic array to a different mode, alerting to more distant enemy aircraft.

At last, Wang Zhong spotted those two Route 217s, and saw the guided bombs suspended under their wings.

The Fritz X!