Arc of Fire

Chapter 709: Chapter 47 “Cavalry Regiment” Advance!

Podoliskov’s crew, lacking an essential tank, chose to drive a Jeep following the cluster of new medium tanks assaulting the front.

That way, if any crew member was killed, they could immediately take their place and relish the chance to operate a new medium tank.

No one worried about their ability to handle the new medium tanks, for any design overseen by General Rocosov and specifically implemented by Ke Jing’s design bureau emphasized interoperability.

The Rokossovsky Type heavy tank used the same operating system as the T34W, which allowed experienced soldiers to operate smoothly with just a little adaptation.

Therefore, everyone in the Podoliskov crew believed that even if it was their first encounter with the new medium tank, they just needed to fiddle with it a bit to learn how to operate it, and could drive it as well as those who had undergone complete re-equipment training.

While steering the wheel, the driver Ivan muttered, “The new tank’s maneuverability is too good, it can actually outrun a Willys Jeep!”

Podoliskov said, “Calm down. It’s just overtaking a Willys Jeep in the wild, isn’t that expected? If we couldn’t do that, why would we bother with tracks?”

The gunner agreed, “Indeed, it’s because this light car is too ridiculous. Look, once it’s replaced with the Prosens’ bucket car, it can’t run this fast, especially with four strong men on it.”

The driver snorted, “Oh, don’t mention it, the Prosens’ bucket car is not as good as they boast, but their BMW motorcycles are pleasant to ride, no wonder all Prosens reconnoitre soldiers like riding BMW motorcycles, wearing leather coats.”

At this moment, the only radio in the car crackled to life, “Prepare to engage the enemy, and those following behind spread out a bit!”

Everyone in the car looked at Podoliskov.

Podoliskov, the crew commander, picked up his Papasha, “Spread out? How are we supposed to fill positions promptly? Keep following them, our Jeep is agile, we might even slip past the enemy and toss some grenades.”

"Good idea.” The gunner also grabbed his Papasha, “Too bad we couldn’t snag some tube launchers from the infantry.”

The loader spit, “Damn it, the infantry are all counting on those tube launchers to win the Iron Cross. Who said that a single person taking down ten tanks would get the Iron Cross? Now the infantry have gone mad, claiming they could carry three launchers each, and there are none left at logistics.”

Podoliskov said, “No tube launchers, no problem. We can still destroy the enemy! Let’s have some drinks first. Ivan, where’s your liquor?”

Ivan pulled out a flask, took a swig, then passed it to Podoliskov.

The gunner said, “Isn’t this against the rules? What if the Priest finds out?”

"Who cares? It’s our first time charging into battle without armor protection, how can we go on without some liquor?” the loader retorted as he reached for the flask from Podoliskov’s hands.

Soon, all four in the vehicle were slightly drunk, and the Jeep’s route became fearlessly bold.

Just then, the first bout of gunfire began.

An armor-piercing shell whizzed right over Podoliskov’s head.

"Suka!” cursed Podoliskov, “If that were a bit lower, my head would be gone!”

Ivan responded, “Quick, see what kind of tanks the enemy has. Are they the new medium type we encountered before? I remember their frontal armor thickness.”

It had been two days since the Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group first encountered the enemy’s new tanks; during the days of rest, the enemy’s wreckages left on the battlefield had been thoroughly studied, and several well-preserved ones had even been sent to Yeburg for detailed analysis.

Podoliskov exclaimed, “Anyway, our 100mm cannon stands little chance against that frontal armor.”

The gunner queried, “Then why aren’t any enemy tanks on fire? We’ve already made a round of attacks, are we missing, or is something wrong with the 100mm shells?”

Watching the enemy line through binoculars, Podoliskov muttered, “It is indeed strange; let’s get a bit closer and see. Wait a second, these aren’t the Mark V tanks we’ve encountered before! Damn it, its silhouette is so much more robust than the Mark V, I miscalculated the distance!”

Using binoculars to estimate the distance (officially called stadia metric rangefinding) requires knowing the specific dimensions of the enemy tank used as a reference, in order to calculate the actual distance.

If the target’s actual size is larger than known, the estimated distance becomes inaccurate.

After recalculating the distance, Podoliskov cursed, “Suka, I don’t know what this new tank is, but it disabled our 100mm cannon from 1800 meters!”

"They also seem unable to deal with our medium tank Ivan had just finished speaking when a shell hit the new medium tank running ahead on their right.

The tank halted, and its commander poking out of the turret shouted at Podoliskov’s crew, “Our driver is injured! Send someone to take over!”

Ivan hit the brakes, and without waiting for the vehicle to fully stop, he scrambled down from the Jeep and dashed toward the halted new medium tank.

"Suka! Although we’re just the substitutes, you don’t have to commit that firmly!” shouted Podoliskov.

Ivan, hearing Podoliskov’s loud shouts, turned back and waved his hand.

Muttering under his breath, Podoliskov took the driver’s seat, released the handbrake, and floored the accelerator, sending the vehicle speeding off again.

The gunner, who had been observing the enemy lines, shouted, “Smoke bombs! Our new medium tanks are firing smoke bombs! They’re charging in for a melee!”

Normal for the situation, Podoliskov noted, “The enemy’s tank looks like a heavy tank, better protected than our medium tanks. Smoking and charging in for a close fight is appropriate. Besides, we also have armored cavalry.”

Like other T34s, each of their new medium tanks had a five-person infantry squad seated behind its turret.

The infantrymen each had a rocket launcher, just waiting to charge within 100 meters of the Prosen tanks.

As the smoke spread, the previously incessant exchange of fire abruptly ended, and the new medium tanks raced towards the smoke with all their might.

Podoliskov also drove the Jeep at breakneck speed.

The loader couldn’t take it anymore and yelled, “Slow down a bit! At least one of the wheels should be on the ground, right?”

Before he had finished speaking, the Jeep plunged into the smoke.

Podoliskov still valued his life, so once inside the smoke, he slowed down. After all, dying by rear-ending one’s own tank was not a glorious way to go.

Amidst the smoke, gunfire was heard.

Podoliskov shouted, “One of our tanks has burst out of the smoke!”

Before he could finish, an armor-piercing shell hit the ground in front of the Jeep, ricocheted, and went through the bottom of the Jeep.

Podoliskov was shocked, instinctively clenching his groin.

The other two reacted similarly, with the gunner even twisting his head around to locate the shell, “Did it go through? Where did it go?”

Podoliskov replied, “It might have passed under the Jeep, don’t be such a coward, we’re nearly out of the smoke!”

No sooner had he spoken than the Jeep emerged from the smoke, and their view suddenly cleared.

Then, everyone saw the turret of a new medium tank fly into the sky.

It seemed that even at this close distance, the front of the new medium tank couldn’t withstand the enemy’s main cannon.

But immediately after, they saw the enemy’s tank burning too.

Heavy tanks and medium tanks, at long distances they scraped each other, at close distances they penetrated each other. Somehow it seemed the heavy tanks took the worst of it for a while!

Just as Podoliskov concluded they had “won”, he saw infantry ahead firing rockets at the side of the enemy tank.

When the rocket hit the side of the enemy vehicle, flames burst from the cooling grilles the next second.

The Prosen tankers, well-trained, jumped out of the tank and took cover, lying low.

The gunner immediately stood up behind the Jeep, manned the M2 machine gun mounted on it, and sprayed bullets at the recently hit Prosen tank while shouting, “Thinking of escaping? None of you are getting away!”

Podoliskov cheered loudly, “Good shooting! Kill them all! As long as we eliminate all of Prosen’s elite tankers, there’ll be no gap in training between us!”

Thus, the Jeep, spitting flames, raced across the battlefield littered with burning debris, catching up with the advancing column of tanks.

"Good lord,” the loader marveled, “Did we just break through the enemy’s heavy tank formation? That’s exhilarating, it all happened in the blink of an eye!”

Podoliskov said, “We also took heavy losses! Damn it, these heavy tanks should be left to our Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group to handle head-on, let the medium tanks fight the enemy’s medium tanks!”

Lieutenant Colonel Fayn climbed out of his tank, watching the surrounding Ante infantry.

After a brief hesitation, he raised his hands, “I surrender! If you are part of General Rokossovsky’s troops, you should treat me well! They all say General Rokossovsky’s troops treat their prisoners well!”

The Ante soldiers climbed onto the tank wreckage, standing beside the turret to inspect Lieutenant Colonel Fayn’s rank and Iron Cross.

Lieutenant Colonel Fayn said, “I am the commander of this battalion and a holder of the First-class Iron Cross, I demand proper treatment

An Ante soldier raised his Papasha, smashing the buttstock against the lieutenant colonel, knocking him unconscious.

Master Sergeant Petro of the Guard 200th Infantry Regiment turned to his accompanying Private Second Class, “What did he say? Did you understand?”

Private Second Class said, “I don’t know. But shouldn’t we capture him and hand him over to the Tribunal? Looks like he’s a high-ranking officer!”

Master Sergeant Petro smacked the Private Second Class on the head, “You don’t know shit! Prosen ranks are marked with a red backing to show high rank! This kind of officer, General Rokossovsky captures thousands in a day! But we really should search him for documents and maps or something, you, get into the tank and drag him out!”

After taking a blow from the gunstock, the Prosen officer had slid inside the tank.

Private Second Class said, “Can’t this tank explode?”

As if echoing his concerns, a Prosen tank not far away exploded into a rising fireball.

Petrol said, “Look at you, scaredy-cat, there’s no open flame, it won’t explode. Go and drag that Prosen officer out! He’s probably the only survivor from this tank!”

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