“`
“Move it, move it! Never stop moving!”
As Tank 422 sped along, Mikhail couldn’t suppress his laughter: “Hahaha! I’ve been looking forward to something like this! So many days pent-up, witnessing so much carnage! Finally, we can properly clean up these invaders!”
Mikhail laughed heartily, and the loader and driver were infected by his mirth, joining in with boisterous laughter.
————
At this moment, not only the enemy, but also a large number of locals and Ante Army soldiers were paying attention to this BT-7 unit that was full speed blitzing the enemy through the city.
Those people who out of fear had not chosen to join the fight to protect their homeland watched from within their homes— now ruins or soon-to-be ruins— as the armored force freely galloped past.
A speculation slowly emerged in everyone’s minds: maybe—just maybe the enemy isn’t so formidable?
————
And this speculation turned into a conviction among the Guardian Army soldiers.
Rezenov, waving his outdated rifle, yelled, “Follow the general’s pace! The enemy is nothing to fear! While their heads are spinning, charge!”
The Guardian Army soldiers shouted “hurrah” as they struggled to keep up with the racing BT series tanks.
————
Wang Zhong no longer knew how long the battle had been raging; he only knew he had just loaded the anti-air machine gun for the third time with Mikhail’s help.
The loader’s voice came through the headphones: “We’re out of shells!”
At that moment, Tank 422 had just maneuvered to the side of a Mark III tank,
Wang Zhong, following procedure, reported the position of the Mark III tank, then Mikhail, across an entire street, hit it with the first shot, and a long flame burst from the top of the Mark III.
A literal “three yards of flame.”
As quick as lightning, Wang Zhong suddenly spotted a Prosen sergeant with a looted PTRD-41 Anti-tank Rifle under the wall to the left of the cross street.
Instantly, Wang Zhong heard a “thud,” and looking up, he saw the loader, now in the gunner’s position, leaning back against Mikhail, who was lifeless.
There was a small hole in the forward Armor, with light shining through it.
Wang Zhong: “Driver! Move it!”
But no one responded to him.
In a rush, Wang Zhong tried to pull the driver’s shoulder, only then realizing the driver was dead too.
That’s when he noticed there was a hole in the driver’s viewing port—the enemy’s first shot wasn’t at the turret but had hit the driver’s viewing port, penetrating the cover plate and killing the driver, then ricocheting to hit Mikhail.
Wang Zhong suddenly realized he would be killed if he stayed in the tank any longer. Just as he was about to crawl out the entrance he had come in through, a burst from a submachine gun forced him back inside.
There were still enemy soldiers outside shouting something. Wang Zhong didn’t understand, but felt it had something to do with him.
Maybe the enemy wants to capture me alive!
Wang Zhong fumbled to reload the magazine of his now-cocked pistol.
Just then, a Prosen soldier appeared at the hatch, and upon seeing Wang Zhong, started shouting gibberish.
Wang Zhong fired three shots. At this range, even an inexperienced rookie could ensure a decent hit rate.
The enemy disappeared, blood splattered across Wang Zhong’s face.
A strong smell of blood assaulted his nostrils.
Wang Zhong thought he had to run fast.
He remembered seeing in many movies that there was an escape hatch at the bottom of tanks, for tank crews to flee in such situations.
He immediately crawled to the bottom of the tank.
There, spent casings littered the tank floor, blood pooled on the metal into small lakes, constantly dripping from the corpses above.
“`