Arc of Fire

Chapter 763: Chapter 20 Armored Duel

Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group, lead tank “Revenge for the Heroic Brother.”

Captain Podoliskov put down his binoculars and muttered, “Damn it, why aren’t the enemy’s Mark III and Mark IV tanks releasing smoke when they see us? Instead, they’re charging at us?”

The accompanying infantry commander shook his head, “I don’t know. I’m an infantry officer. Maybe they think they can penetrate your thick armor if they get closer?”

Podoliskov picked up the radio, “Enemy tanks are charging at us. To prevent any mishaps, I suggest we stop and engage at a distance!”

The commander immediately responded, “Agreed. All units, halt your advance. Form into groups of three for mutual cover. Dismount the infantry and spread out!”

Podoliskov immediately patted the shoulder of the infantry commander, “Dismount, spread out in front of the tanks and set up a protective line. Deal with those tanks that come right up to us. Our turret rotation isn’t fast enough to keep up with the quick maneuvers of the Mark III and IVs at close range.”

...

"Alright, leave it to us!” The infantry, all carrying rocket launchers, jumped off the tanks and quickly dispersed in front of the halted vehicles.

The Guard First Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group had a total of 21 Rokossovsky Type tanks, just enough to form seven groups, with each group’s wedge formation creating a “tooth tip,” and together the seven tips formed a “steel saw” on the steppe.

Almost two hundred Prosen tanks lined up in two rows and charged towards this steel saw.

When the enemy tanks reached 1,800 meters, Guard First opened fire.

Seven or eight Prosen tanks were set ablaze and halted, while the rest either stopped to return fire or continued advancing.

The Guard First commander urged over the radio, “Forget about coordinated volleys, there are too many enemies. Fire as rapidly as possible! Don’t take follow-up shots, focus on the moving targets!”

Podoliskov unalteredly relayed the commander’s order, “No follow-up shots. Prioritize the moving targets! Fire!”

Soon the entire steppe was covered in smoke, from the white smoke of the Guard First’s tank gun firing to the black smoke from the burning enemy tanks.

The Prosens were also fighting back hard, with their shells scraping the paint off the Rokossovsky Type tanks.

Suddenly, Podoliskov heard someone exclaim over the radio, “I’ve been penetrated!”

He immediately turned his head and, sure enough, saw a Rokossovsky Type in the distance engulfed in flames, with the crew bailing out.

The commander’s voice came through the radio, “Who’s been penetrated? Mark the position, it’s a valuable sample!”

By analyzing the impact points on the wreckage, they would know where to strengthen the defense, making the penetrated wreckage more valuable than other damaged tanks for recovery.

Podoliskov was just thinking that the penetrated crew was unlucky when an armor-piercing shell hit the anti-aircraft machine gun next to him, slicing off its mounting from the base, and the machine gun fell off the tank.

A fragment from somewhere struck Podoliskov’s shoulder.

"Sukabule!” he cursed, reaching for his shoulder to find his hand covered in blood.

So he climbed into the tank. While wrapping a bandage around himself with a first aid kit, he swore, “Sukabule! It’d be a damn shame for me to be wounded like this!”

The loader shoved a new armor-piercing shell into the breech, taking the opportunity to ask during the lull, “What hit you?”

"Fragment from the anti-aircraft machine gun! Sukabule! It really fucking hurts!”

Before he could finish speaking, the gunner fired, and the tank violently trembled.

The spent shell casings were ejected by the breech and fell to the floor of the tank, filling the combat room with the acrid smell of the partially burned gunpowder.

Podoliskov coughed while wrapping his bandage, “Damn it! There’s something wrong with the gunpowder in these shells again! Everyone in charge at the back factories should be shot!”

"Be glad they even fire,” The loader stuffed another shell into the breech, “Twenty AP shells left!”

The gunner fired again.

Almost simultaneously, everyone heard a ‘Duang’ sound. Clearly, another enemy armor-piercing shell had been deflected by the trustworthy armor of the Rokossovsky Type.

After finishing his makeshift bandage, Podoliskov peered out through the periscope in the command tower and saw the enemy had closed within 1,000 meters.

The fire from the enemy was getting noticeably denser.

Podoliskov raised his left hand and closed the hatch—he had entered so quickly that he had left it wide open, and sunlight was leaking in.

The gunner fired for the third time.

As the hatch closed, the pungent odor of gunpowder in the combat room grew even more intense.

The gunner said, “If the enemy doesn’t retreat, we’ll be suffocated by the poor-quality gunpowder!”

"Stop complaining! Keep firing! Don’t let the enemy get close to the batt

As he spoke, there was another muffled sound from the armor, and then the rotating turret jammed.

Podoliskov, “Sukabule! The mantlet’s jammed; damn Prosen tricks!”

The Prosens were known to deliberately aim for the mantlet, something Podoliskov had been taught at the Tank Operator’s School back home.

In theory, the Rokossovsky Type had been designed considering the enemy’s penchant for targeting the mantlet, and special effort had been made to protect it.

During the summer campaign, “Revenge” had been surrounded and bombarded by Prosen tanks but had stood firm against numerous mantlet shots without jamming, proof of the design team’s effective work.

But clearly, when luck was against you, even the design team couldn’t help.

Podoliskov, “I’m going out to check the situation. As soon as the malfunction is fixed, keep firing!”

"Isn’t your shoulder wounded?” someone asked.

Podoliskov looked down at his shoulder and smiled, “It’s nothing serious!”

He used both hands to climb out of the tank, clearly feeling his right hand was weak, but he gritted his teeth and persevered.

Podoliskov quickly found the Prosen Armor-Piercing Shell wedged in the tank’s turret joint—more precisely, fragments of the shell.

He grasped the turret handle and kicked the fragments fiercely with his leather boot. After several kicks, the pieces finally snapped out of the seam with a crack and disappeared into the bushes.

Podoliskov hurriedly squeezed back into the tank.

The Prosen tanks, now within 700 meters, fired their coaxial machine guns at Podoliskov, the bullets clinking against the Rokossovsky Type’s armor.

"Keep firing! The enemy is only seven hundred meters away!” he shouted.

"I’m aiming now!” the gunner spoke just as he stepped on the firing pedal, and the tank shuddered.

Podoliskov quickly looked out through the periscope and saw a burning Prosen tank slowing down, its crew members jumping off one by one, rolling on the ground.

"Good! Keep firing!”

At that moment, the Prosen tanks had charged to three hundred meters.

Suddenly a shell struck the Revenge for the Heroic Brother.

Podoliskov initially thought it would be another ricochet when something zipped by in front of his eyes.

The gunner clutched his throat and fell onto his battle station.

Podoliskov pressed his left hand on the gunner’s shoulder: “What’s wrong with you?”

The gunner tried to speak, but could only make a hissing sound.

Podoliskov turned his head and saw a small piece of the tank’s inner armor had buckled inward, obviously fragments had hit the gunner.

"Damn it! I’ll dress your wound, hang in there!” The loader, holding a first aid kit, opened it so hastily that the gauze, bandage, and sulfonamide powder all spilled out onto the Combat Room floor, mixing with shell casings.

The loader immediately bent down to pick up the bandage, then searched through a pile of shell casings for a packet of sulfonamide powder.

Podoliskov: “Enough! He’s dead!”

The loader stopped, looking up at the commander.

Podoliskov: “He’s dead! Our tank isn’t invincible! Help me lift him to the commander’s position! I’ll fire the gun!”

The loader seemed not to comprehend Podoliskov’s words, frozen in place.

Podoliskov: “Hurry up! I’ve injured my right shoulder, I can’t move him by myself! Hurry!”

As he spoke, he kicked the loader fiercely with his foot.

Finally snapping to his senses, the loader dropped the gauze and first aid kit and helped Podoliskov move the gunner to the commander’s position.

Podoliskov recalled the training he had received—since Rocossov had implemented new tank manual drills, Ante’s tank operators, like the Prosens, were required to be able to man all battle positions.

The original commander stepped on the turret’s left-turn pedal, aligning the reticle in the gunsight with the enemy tank.

The enemy tank fired just then, its muzzle flash and blast momentarily obscuring its hull.

Podoliskov stepped on the firing pedal.

The tank jerked, and instantly, the enemy in the gunsight was struck, clearly hit on the mantlet.

Immediately afterward, the enemy tank’s driver and mechanic climbed out from the frontal crew compartment—evidently Podoliskov’s last shot had wiped out the enemies in the combat room.

Podoliskov opened fire with the coaxial machine gun, but due to his unfamiliarity with the gunsight’s machine gun scale, the bullets sprayed in front of the enemy like a stream of urine.

The Prosen tanker escaped by taking cover in the bushes.

Loader: “There are 17 Armor-Piercing Shells left!”

Podoliskov couldn’t afford to answer; he was busy searching for the enemy through the gunner’s scope—

Damn, it’s so hard to find, like being blind!

Podoliskov, who had never operated a two-man turret T34 and was accustomed to the commander’s view, was really not used to searching for enemies with the gunnerscope.

He finally spotted an enemy tank, and before he could align the crosshairs, an infantry Rocket Launcher hit the front of the tank.

Podoliskov thought he had lost his prey, only to be surprised to see that the tank was still moving!

He immediately fired another shot.

As the Armor-Piercing Shell hit, the target’s skirt blew off entirely, followed by flames leaping several feet from the engine compartment.

Prosen tankers bailed out, then were cut down by Ante Infantry emerging from the bushes with Papashas.

Podoliskov: “Damn it, the enemy is at the infantry’s screening line! We don’t have a hull machine gun!”

At that time, someone called out over the radio: “The enemy has deployed smoke! We have repelled them!”

Podoliskov also saw the white smoke released by the enemy tanks.

He took a long breath, leaning back onto the gunner station’s backrest.

Then he remembered, the backrest was covered in blood.

"Sukabule!” he cursed.