Arc of Fire

Aleksei, the battalion commander of the first Armored Battalion of the Asgard Knights’ fifth Armored Division, was ordered to launch a counterattack.

His Armored Battalion had 91 Panzer III and 31 Panzer IV tanks ready for combat that morning at 25th hour, but two hours after leaving their base, half of the tanks had broken down on the road.

It wasn’t that the Prosen tanks were in poor condition, but rather the muddy weather in Ante was exceptionally severe.

Before departure, Lister had ordered anti-skid plates to be fitted onto all the tank tracks, a new equipment developed specifically for the muddy season of the year 915.

It took them over an hour to install this new equipment, and then ten minutes to realize the equipment was more flashy than functional.

When you think about it, it makes sense: the Anteans had adopted wider tracks to cope with their homeland’s mucky terrain—T34 tracks were 50 centimeters wide, and some models even reached 55 centimeters, yet many tanks still broke down in the mud.

The earlier model of Panzer III had tracks only 36 centimeters wide, which had been increased to 40 centimeters in the latest model H, still much narrower than the T34’s width.

Not to mention the Panzer IV, heavier but with tracks only increased from 36 to 38 centimeters.

In such conditions, relying solely on the "ingenious ideas" of the development department’s anti-skid equipment to conquer the mighty mud demon was indeed a bit of a fantasy.

By the time they had progressed to the anticipated enemy engagement location, and when the first battalion started to deploy its attack formation, Lister had only 19 Long-barreled Fours ready for action; Panzer III tanks were more in number, just achieving the standard three-to-one ratio with the Panzer IVs.

But everyone knew, now the Long-barreled Four was the mainstay of armored warfare; though some Panzer III tanks had also switched to the longer-barrel 50mm guns, the base capability of the 50mm still lagged far behind; even with the barrel extension providing similar penetration power to the Long-barreled Four, the damage caused post-penetration was not comparable to that of the 75mm gun.

Thus, Lister divided the Panzer IV tanks into countless two-tank squads, mixing them with the Panzer IIIs.

The only single Panzer IV acted as his personal vehicle and also the battalion command center.

The improved radio systems of the Long-barreled Four did not fall much short of the adapted command tanks of Panzer III.

It took about twenty minutes to complete the grouping. Lister climbed onto his new command tank— the original tanker of that vehicle took over Lister’s command tank.

After putting on his headset, Lister scanned around, took a deep breath, and ordered, "Tanks, advance!"

On the plains, the roar of engines suddenly escalated, and all the tanks’ exhaust pipes spewed black smoke.

Following tactical protocol, Lister waited until all units had moved forward a distance before ordering his tank and the following battalion command tank platoon to advance, allowing him to see the entire attack formation from the rear and maintain control of the overall situation at all times.

Not long after Lister started moving, a cry came through the radio: "There seem to be enemy tanks ahead! The light rain is making visibility poor, can’t see clearly!"

Lister immediately brought the microphone to his mouth, "We anticipated encountering enemy tanks, prepare for engagement. All units, halt and prepare to fire!"

Prosen tanks were more elite, the tank operators well-trained, and the aiming mechanisms more advanced; the Long-barreled Four still had advantages in penetration depth and damage, so Lister chose to deplete the Antean armored troops with long-range fire.

Of course, even if it came to close combat with the T34 ’blind tanks,’ Lister had confidence in his armored troops, believing they would deliver an impressive exchange rate.

From last year to now, Prosen’s armored troops were brimming with confidence, as they had won every encounter against Antean tanks.

After issuing the orders, Lister used the internal communication to call to the driver: "Stop the vehicles! We won’t advance any further either."

With a brake, the Long-barreled Four made Lister, who was sticking out of the turret top, sway back and forth, looking like wheat in the wind—although the harvest season had long passed.

Lister stood upright in the tank, adjusting his binoculars to the maximum magnification.

Perhaps as the rain was lessening, the outlines of the distant enemy became gradually clearer.

Antean tanks, carrying infantry, were plodding forward through the mud.

They didn’t seem to intend to stop at all; they probably hadn’t noticed Lister’s battalion.

Lister recalled the early days of the war last year when he was still in the Infantry Division, commanding an Assault Gun battalion equipped with 71 Sturmgeschütz III assault guns.

That division had just entered Antean territory when they faced a counterattack from Antean armored troops.

The Antean tank operators mistook Lister’s assault guns for tanks, so they halted and engaged in a firefight with the assault guns.

The outcome of that battle was neither the assault guns nor the T34s could penetrate each other’s front armor; eventually, the T34s ran out of ammunition, and the infantry units snuck up and wiped them out.

Since then, Lister had looked down on the Antean armored troops, considering them just a bunch of farmers crammed into tanks, only slightly better trained than conscripts—actually, Lister was quite doubtful the Antean tank operators were trained any longer than the Antean conscripts.

Now, this disdain resurfaced in his mind.

Looking at the enemy tanks, they seemed to be strolling drunkenly without any caution!

If he couldn’t beat such adversaries, he would be a disgrace to his many years of military education.

Lister recalled the width of the Antean T34s and, using the density grid in his binoculars, estimated the distance to the enemy tanks. When the enemy approached 1600 meters, Lister brought the microphone to his mouth again: "Fire!"

His armored battalion fired simultaneously.

Armor-piercing shells were shot towards well-chosen targets, and in the blink of an eye, several fireballs rose from the Antean assault formation, the fiery explosions from tanks detonating.

The Anteans didn’t react at all, seeming unaware they were being attacked, and maintained the same furious speed forward.

Lister urged, "Quick, reload, fire! As long as we don’t let the enemy close in, this is just a one-sided crush. Fire!"

The second wave of shells cut through the rain, igniting more Antean tanks.

At that moment, the Anteans finally realized they were under attack; Lister could see some Antean tank turrets rotating.

He thought they had spotted their own tanks, and the next moment there might be a brief cease to their firing.

However, the T34 didn’t stop; it continued to advance.

Lister finally understood that the rotation of the turret was because the T34’s two-person turret didn’t have a separate tank commander; the commander, who also served as the gunner, had to use the sighting scope to observe the target—standing up and observing through the gaps of the commander’s turret was too time-consuming and laborious.

The third and fourth salvos of shells pierced through the rain curtain, and another dozen T34s came to a halt.

When hit by the Panzer III 50mm gun, a T34 would generally just stop, without any certainty of being "killed," so the tank operators had to continuously fire at the wreckage until it started burning, or a surviving tank operator crawled out.

But when hit by the 75mm gun of a Panzer IV, the T34s almost invariably turned into torches in the rain, bright enough to be seen from several kilometers away.

The tank that caught fire first had already burned through its fuel, and the visible flames gradually extinguished in the heavy rain.

Antean tank operators continued to charge forward, their aiming significantly impaired by the heavy rain—of course, it could also be that the sighting equipment fitted on these T34s was just crappy.

In March of this year, Prosen’s armored troops and anti-tank units began to report shocking quality issues with some of the Antean T34s. At that time, High Command concluded that these quality problems were due to Ante’s blind expansion of production.

Now, Lister felt he had personally witnessed the results of blind expansion and shoddy manufacturing.

He was immensely thankful that Prosen’s factories were renowned for precision work.

Enemy tanks at 700 meters!

In the thousand-meter stretch that the Anteans had just charged across, burning wreckage was everywhere.

The remaining number of T34s had already dropped below that of Lister’s battalion, but still, they charged fearlessly forward as if totally unaware of the severe losses their unit had just suffered within the past few minutes.

Lister saw a T34 with the number 333 being hit, flames spurting from the turret ring.

The infantry jumped off the tank first, followed by the tank operators, one after another, rolling on the ground with the help of the infantry to extinguish the flames on their bodies.

Lister was about to shift his binoculars elsewhere when he abruptly saw an Antean tank operator climb back onto the tank.

The tank operator had medals on him, possibly a war hero, and seemed to be carrying a rank on his shoulder.

The man climbed into the driver’s seat, and the next moment, the tank with the flaming turret ring started moving forward.

Lister immediately realized what the brave Antean commander was planning: he was preparing to ram a Prosen tank!

He slowly lowered his binoculars, slowly took off his headset, and then removed his cap.

Even if an enemy, such a fighting spirit deserved respect.

Lister looked down on Ante’s armored troops.

But at that moment, he suddenly felt that Prosen might be losing the war.

Aleksei Podoliskov returned to the tank because he had finally spotted the formation of Prosen tanks that had annihilated countless Brotherhood units.

Thus, he was determined to achieve at least one victory with this T34.

If he were to meet Saint Andrew and the old man asked, "What’s the exchange ratio with the enemy," and he could only answer "zero," it would be utterly heartbreaking.

So, at least, he had to achieve one victory!

Aleksei Podoliskov floored the throttle. He didn’t pray, because deep down, he knew this tank would run until the last moment.

Because the engine and gearbox, maintained by the whole crew, were in excellent condition when they set out.

Through the driver’s periscope, he could see a Prosen Panzer IV.

He saw that long cannon barrel flash.

It seemed the armor-piercing shell had hit, and the resulting shockwave felt like a sledgehammer slamming into Podoliskov’s back.

It felt like something warm and wet was trickling down his spine.

As he began losing blood, Podoliskov’s consciousness started to drift, clinging to his body by a mere thread of will.

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He gripped the control stick with all his strength, issuing a final roar.

The Panzer IV fired again, this time the shell headed straight for the driver’s cabin.

In that instant, Podoliskov thought he saw the Prosen armor-piercing shell penetrating the armor.

His consciousness halted there.

Lister didn’t use his binoculars, because the T34 had already drawn close enough to be clearly visible to the naked eye.

He remained silent for a while until the gunner patted his thigh.

"What’s up?" he asked, looking down.

The gunner gestured to his ear: "They’re calling you, battalion commander."

Lister quickly put on his headset, just in time to hear the company commander responsible for frontline command report: "All T34s have been destroyed, our forces are unscathed. Shall we pursue the remaining enemies?"

Lister hesitated for a moment, then rallied his spirit, "Pursue the remaining enemies! Wipe out all the fleeing tank operators!"