Cannon Fire Arc

Sergeant Semyon was holding his Papasha upside down, trying to clear a jam when he heard the sound of a Prosen machine gun.

He looked up at the sound, only to see a Prosen soldier stand up in the bushes, sweeping the area with his machine gun.

The gunner had not noticed Sergeant Semyon yet, so he quickly hunkered down and repeatedly pulled the action, trying to eject the jammed casing.

On the third pull, the casing clicked free. Sergeant Semyon quickly worked the bolt several times to ensure the malfunction was completely cleared before he turned the gun right side up and started to shower the Prosen gunner with bullets.

Precise shooting was out of the question; the Papasha wasn't designed for that. Soldiers of the Ante Army had developed the habit of simply spraying bullets regardless of the distance. Even if they didn't hit the enemy, they could force them to take cover.

Soon the area around the enemy gunner was all torn-up grass, the leaves swept up by the bullets.

The gunner didn't lie down; instead, he turned the muzzle towards Sergeant Semyon.

Just then, a bullet from Semyon's Papasha struck the gunner in the shoulder, almost instantly sapping the strength from his arms gripping the bipod, causing the machine gun to drop but continue firing.

The bullets struck the tank's turret, then the hull—

The bullets that hit the hull ricocheted, directly striking Sergeant Semyon's calf.

The sergeant leaned against the turret, bracing himself with his elbow and the other leg, continuing to fire his heavy submachine gun.

The Prosen gunner was hit several times, fell backward, and the machine gun rolled away on the ground.

Just as Sergeant Semyon thought of taking a breath, he saw another Prosen emerging from the grass, apparently planning to pick up the machine gun.

So Sergeant Semyon pulled the trigger once more, spraying out the rest of the bullets in his magazine.

The Prosen soldier wasn't hit, but he still hit the ground.

Sergeant Semyon pressed the release, forcefully slapped the magazine with his hand, and the empty magazine fell, landing on his foot.

He cursed, "Suka," struggling to pull a new magazine from his gear, when the tank's turret hatch cracked open and the tank commander, who was also a gunner, asked, "What's going on?"

While fumbling with the magazine, Semyon replied, "Drive forward, the grass is full of Prussians! You've already delivered us; leave the rest to us!"

The commander glanced at Semyon's shoulder, "Your arm is injured; your sleeve is soaked through with blood."

Semyon turned his head to look and indeed saw a patch of red on his sleeve. Your journey continues with empire

"Damn it, I was wondering why my hand felt a bit off..."

The commander handed over a roll of bandages, "This is from our tank's supply."

Semyon stopped fishing for the magazine, took the bandages, and started to bandage his arm, while continuing to urge, "Move forward, there are who knows how many Prussians in these bushes! No wonder General Rokossovsky gave the tank units so many support troops—"

As he spoke, Semyon glanced around and saw many tanks had been destroyed in close combat by Prussian soldiers, and Ante's infantry were engaging the Prussians in melee combat.

The poorly trained and with limited visibility T34 tanks were not much help in this situation; it felt like the tanks were fighting tanks, infantry fighting infantry, with two separate battles happening concurrently.

After finishing the bandage, Semyon returned the bloodied wrap to the commander, urging him, "Drive forward! Charge through! Strike at the enemy's logistics and command!"

The commander retracted and closed the hatch along with him, and the tank engine roared back to life.

Semyon steadied himself, finally took out a new magazine, and loaded it into his submachine gun.

Then, he looked down at his foot, confirmed he probably wouldn't be able to fight on foot.

Gun ready, he vigilantly watched his surroundings.

This T34 had no anti-aircraft machine gun mounted on top, presumably because General Rokossovsky had intervened in military manufacturing to ensure enough machine guns for the infantry units.

But the general's own Army Group had all its anti-aircraft guns accounted for.

Semyon thought, maybe after fighting this battle, the 40th Army would also become one of Rokossovsky's direct commands, entitled to new equipment? If he wrote to his wife about this, she would be happy. Fighting under General Rokossovsky was less likely to get you killed.

After all, he was one of the few generals who achieved notable success in last year's disastrous defeat...

At that moment, Semyon suddenly heard the sound of bugles.

He turned his head and saw a cavalry troop emerging from somewhere, sweeping across the plains.

Under the sunlight, the glint of the sabers was like shooting stars on the ground.

"Where did these cavalry troops come from?"

"Weren't all the cavalry reorganized into tank units?"

Semyon watched as the cavalry charged through the Prussian positions, slaughtering the Prussians with their cold steel sabers.

Finally, the Prussian morale collapsed, and many Prussians got up and ran away.

The cavalry caught up with the tank Semyon was in, and a cavalry captain said to Semyon, "You're hurt, Davarish."

"Davar... huh?" Semyon was somewhat surprised, "What?"

"Davarish, it seems it was originally used by the Navy. It's how General Rokossovsky's troops refer to each other."

Semyon made an "oh" sound, then asked, "Where did you guys spring from?"

"We just arrived. General Rokossovsky ordered us to catch up with you, saying you were lacking accompanying forces. So, here we are."

"Just in time!" Semyon laughed.

As the saying goes, in the blink of an eye, something flashed in the distance.

When the shell hit the tank, Semyon only heard a "clang," and the next moment he was sent flying.

It took him half a second to realize he was airborne, and he looked at the ground, staring into the captain's widened eyes.

The captain must have shouted something, but Semyon couldn't hear it anymore.

His ears could hear nothing now.

He saw the reason - the tank had exploded, the turret was flying through the air, but the chassis was still moving forward.

—I must have been deafened by the blast.

Thinking this, Sergeant Semyon saw the ground rushing up to embrace him, like a mother.

————

At the moment the tank exploded, Captain Makarov shouted, "88 guns!"

He had seen such situations before.

An 88 gun crew had survived the artillery preparation!

The captain looked forward, indeed seeing the flash of gunfire.

The distance was about one kilometer, obviously the Prussians had only just got the gun working again; otherwise, they wouldn't have let the tank get so close before firing.

The captain turned his head and shouted, "Cavalrymen! Take out the last gun crew! Don't let them destroy our tank units!"

Usually, an 88-gun crew would be covered by a machine gun or even a small caliber anti-aircraft gun, but at this moment, there was no time to worry about that.

With a determination to die, Captain Makarov led his cavalry in a charge toward the gun positions.

However, there were no machine guns, no 20mm anti-aircraft cannons; the cavalry surged over the position like waves.

As Captain Makarov charged past the gun position, he aimed at an officer wearing a boat-shaped cap—a boat-shaped cap should belong to the Prosen Air Force.

The captain gently lowered his hand, and without much effort, the saber sliced through the officer's cheek, splitting his head in two.

When the captain looked for another target, he realized that the rest of the gun crew had all been taken care of by the cavalry.

The Opel truck transporting the shells tried to flee, but the captain caught up with it and threw a grenade into the driver's cabin.

The next moment, the truck's cabin blew up, the uncontrolled vehicle overturned on the grassland, and then, there was a huge explosion.

Unable to contain his excitement, the captain cried out, "Uraaa!"

"Ura!" The resounding cry shook the grassland.