Cannon Fire Arc

The priest, holding a Bible in one hand and a submachine gun in the other, walked leisurely amidst the rain of shells. Whenever he found an injured soldier still alive, he would kneel down, lean close to the soldier's face, and mutter: "Child, I can't treat your wounds, but I can listen to your last prayer, and I promise it will be conveyed to God."

After saying this, he would place his ear near the soldier's mouth, striving to hear the last prayer of that unlucky soul.

Then the priest discovered that most of the time, what he heard was "Mom."

Half an hour passed just like that.

Evans ran out from the house that had become a dangerous building, and saw the priest walking down the street as if nothing had happened — he was the only one standing on the whole street.

Deputy battalion commander: "Where the hell did you find this lunatic?"

"In the swamp, when I found him, he was fishing out his Bible and Holy Communion Box."

"Damn it." The deputy battalion commander cursed.

At this point, everyone could hear the roar of engines and the noise of the tracks and transmission.

Deputy battalion commander: "Everyone to your positions! The enemy Armored Division is attacking!"

Evans, running towards his company's defensive position, shouted, "It's almost dark, they won't attack with tanks after dark! We just need to hold off the initial attack!"

As soon as he said that, a high-explosive shell hit the two-story building ahead of him, pushing him back and causing him to fall to the ground.

When Evans gathered himself, the second shell had already landed.

A large brick crashed down beside Evans.

After a moment of silence, he shouted, "Does the enemy intend to flatten every building in this town? Where did they get so much ammunition and time?"

But the roar of the tank engines did not stop, indicating more tanks were advancing towards the town.

Another two-story building got hit.

Evans realized the enemy was planning to demolish buildings while engaging in close combat.

Evans stood up, dashed into the building that had sustained a high-explosive hit: "Are you guys okay?"

"The machine gun team upstairs is gone! But we're fine." His subordinate replied.

Evans: "The enemy is clearing the second floor because from there, incendiary bottles can be thrown down. Bazooka?"

"Two left!"

Evans: "We shouldn't have used our rockets so freely against the reconnaissance team earlier. What about the enemy's anti-tank weapons?"

"You mean this?" Someone picked up the oddly shaped anti-tank funnel from Prosen, "I'd rather lift the tank hatch than use this."

Evans: "Hold it, even if it's not an anti-tank weapon, you can swing it like a hammer."

As soon as he finished speaking, machine gun fire sounded.

Evans: "Company F's direction! Our turn soon!"

He barely finished speaking when a shell boomed nearby, hitting a building in the distance.

Evans: "The tank is right beside us! Block the infantry, prepare to fire the Bazooka!"

As he spoke, a barrel appeared outside the ground-floor window, followed by the tank turret.

The entire building started to shake.

Evans shouted, leaned out the window, and fired outside, immediately taking down two Prosen soldiers.

Inside the building, the Federation paratroopers unleashed their firepower.

Evans emptied a magazine, changed it while yelling, "Anti-tank, GOGOGO!"

The Bazooka shooter immediately opened the door and fired at the side armor of the outside tank.

The backblast from the rocket filled the room with smoke and dust.

"Damn it, Barber! Couldn't you fire from outside, we're suffocating in here!" someone shouted.

"Can't, I'm scared to die!" Barber threw away the disposable launch tube and ducked back into the room.

This time and space's Bazooka, because of Rocossov's design, had become disposable.

Evans ignored his men's quarrel, lay by the window to confirm the attack's result.

Flames and thick smoke spouted from the tank's exhaust, which stopped completely.

Evans: "The attack was effective, we took one down! Keep going—"

He leaned out again to fire, noticing a Grizzly Assault Gun turning this way, its stubby barrel aiming directly.

Evans ducked back and dropped flat, yelling at the same time: "Take cover!"

The shell hit, taking down the entire wall facing the Grizzly, turning it into flying bricks and wooden debris.

Several people got hit by flyaway bricks, fell backward—

Evans pushed off the collapsed wall on him, struggling to get up.

He saw figures emerge from the smoke, and fired reflexively.

After taking down three people, he remembered to confirm whether those approaching were friend or foe.

He tried hard to discern the enemy's attire, but his vision had suddenly become severely myopic, everything doubled, and he couldn't see the fallen clearly.

—Wait a minute, he suddenly realized, dead shapes could be identified by helmets, Prosen's not wrapping camouflage nets and they have obvious ear protectors!

Evans downed two more with ear-protector helmets, emptied his last magazine, tried to catch the dropping magazine but reacted too late.

As the magazine hit the ground, he reached for his magazine pouch, only to find nothing there.

Dammit, the explosion earlier had blown away the pouch.

Evans recalled losing his leg pouch, during last night's parachute drop, a flak shell's shrapnel sliced the pouch belt, permanently losing his weapon.

Can't they make this gear sturdier!

Another ear-protector helmet rushed into the room.

Evans took off his helmet, hurled it at the foe, using the opening to draw his Smith and Wesson, firing several shots at the enemy.

That's when his hearing finally returned, and the Thompson submachine gun fire sounded so delightful.