Chapter 731: The Firing Port

Inside a reinforced concrete machine gun bunker, Soviet Red Army soldiers were aiming their machine gun at the charging German troops opposite them. The terrain here was extremely perilous. After countless measurements and corrections by experts, the bunker built here could achieve a very high efficiency in locking down the surrounding area.

This was truly a case of “one man holding the pass against ten thousand.” And so, the German soldiers charging up the high ground from here were suppressed by the tongue of fire spewing from this machine gun, unable to raise their heads. Bullets struck the earth, kicking up debris that blinded the eyes. In the narrow firing port, the Soviet Red Army gunner emptied the magazine of his machine gun, then directly replaced the entire weapon to maintain a smooth rate of fire.

To allow this machine gun bunker to achieve the purpose of blockading the entire passage, the Soviet defenders had stockpiled a large amount of ammunition here and had prepared a full four machine guns. This way, they could ensure that this firing position had continuous firepower.

So why was so much firepower stockpiled here? The first reason was that this place guarded a necessary path to the top of the high ground, and it was a slope that faced away from the main front, so it would not be attacked by enemy heavy artillery. The second reason was that this place had been reinforced and had a frontal reinforced concrete fortification several meters thick. Ordinary firepower could not pose a sufficient threat to it at all.

It was precisely because of their confidence in the security of this place that the Soviets had deployed enough ammunition and firepower here, in order to delay for as long as possible and buy more preparation time for the Soviet defenders in other sectors. Now it seemed that their method had achieved its purpose and had inflicted very considerable casualties on the German army opposite them.

In just a few short minutes, 7 German soldiers had already fallen here, and a full 50 German soldiers were pinned down on this road, unable to advance a single step. Fortunately for them, the Soviet mortars here had no ammunition. Otherwise, with just a few rounds, these German soldiers would have had to pay a bloody price.

“Fire! Fire! Don’t let them get close to us! They must have flamethrowers! Stop them from getting close! Otherwise, we’re done for!” a veteran of the Soviet Red Army shouted, reminding his comrades as he changed the ammunition for a machine gun.

The Soviet gunner who was firing, holding the machine gun with the stock braced against his shoulder, fired fiercely and shouted back to his comrade, “I know! I know what they’re trying to do! I’m laying down suppressive fire! But they’re still getting closer, bit by bit!”

BOOM! On the top of the machine gun bunker, a mortar shell landed, kicking up a cloud of earth. This was the fifth time the German soldiers had tried to attack this place with mortars. Apart from the first round, which had been a success, the rest had not achieved the desired effect.

At the top of this machine gun bunker, there had originally been an open-air position built of sandbags, with a machine gun nest that had a wider field of view. But the first mortar shell had accurately hit this position, killing all the Soviet soldiers on it. However, the mortar shells clearly had no destructive power against the top of the bunker, which was made of reinforced concrete and steel plates. Several rounds had failed to disable this damn Soviet machine gun bunker.

The mortar shells exploded, shaking some dust loose from the top of the bunker. Apart from such insignificant dust, the entire bunker seemed to have not changed at all. For the attacking German troops, the entire Crimea was a huge fortress, and every detail of these fortresses seemed to have been carefully designed and considered. In order to kill more people, the Soviet architects had truly taken great pains.

Not far behind the attacking German troops, next to the body of a fallen Soviet soldier, a German soldier lay on the ground, slowly inching his rifle forward. He was like a corpse that had been lying there all along, and no one could have noticed a living soldier hiding there.

When the G43 semi-automatic rifle was fully revealed, its uniqueness became apparent. On the rifle’s sight, there was a short optical scope. This was the standard equipment for a German sniper rifle, a scope with a not-so-astonishing magnification.

In the battlefield environment of World War II, the opportunity for a sniper to attack a soldier from over 300 meters away was actually not great. Most shots were actually taken at extremely close range, so most German snipers used scopes with a low magnification.

This German sniper slowly adjusted his firing angle, using the corpse to cover most of his body. He then closed one eye and aimed at the firing port of the Soviet machine gun bunker, which was constantly spitting fire. He held his breath, pressed the crosshairs of the scope onto the firing port, and waited for the natural tremor of his body to be compressed to a critical point.

He had learned this method of firing in sniper school, which could improve his shooting accuracy. According to this method, this sniper had already fired more than 500 training rounds and had also participated in executions to train his psychological stability under fire. Moreover, he had already fired hundreds of shots on the battlefield, killing more than 40 enemy soldiers. Such a shot was a very ordinary matter for him.

His finger pulled the trigger at the limit of his control. The rifle recoiled sharply against his shoulder as the bullet was fired. In the crosshairs, he could see that this round had indeed flown into the firing port of the machine gun bunker.

Clang! The constantly firing Soviet machine gun bunker suddenly fell silent. But just a few seconds later, another machine gun was brought up to replace it and continued to spit fire. The German soldiers were still pinned down, unable to raise their heads. The Soviets seemed to still hold the initiative.

“Hey! A bullet hit my machine gun! It broke my gun!” this Soviet gunner complained with a frown. The highest-ranking commander in the bunker, a sergeant, walked up to this soldier, glanced at the bullet that had hit the receiver, and then looked at the firing port.

The veteran who was loading bullets clearly did not think this was a coincidence, but he had no good way to deal with it either. He just complained, “How could it be so coincidental? You really got lucky. It’s a good thing it hit the receiver. If it had hit you, it would have been bad.”

Before his words had even faded, the young Soviet Red Army gunner who was firing cried out and fell backward. A bullet had hit him in the chest, taking his life directly. For two bullets to have flown into the firing port in such a short time could not be explained by luck. A terrifying thought popped into the minds of all the Soviet soldiers.

“There’s a German sniper! Find him! Quick! Get another gunner up there! If the Germans bring up their flamethrowers, we’re all done for! Quick!” the sergeant ordered loudly. He then turned his head and shouted to the soldier manning the telephone, “Call for support! There’s a German sniper! We need infantry support! Quick! Quick!”

This Soviet soldier quickly picked up the phone and began to call the headquarters on the mountaintop. The fortress complex in Crimea had been under construction for many years, and there were many deep underground fortifications. The communication lines were extensive, which was an advantage that gave the German army a considerable headache.

The largest underground fortification complex was built in Sevastopol. It was said that there were underground barracks there that could accommodate thousands of people. The ammunition depot was buried 30 meters underground and was protected by a reinforced concrete roof. The entire fortress zone was dotted with bunkers and gun batteries. It could be said to be a meticulously designed meat grinder. And the battle here now, for the soldiers of both the Soviet and German armies, was still just an appetizer.

However, no matter how fast the reinforcements came, they still needed time. Less than a minute after the request for reinforcements was sent, another bullet flew into the bunker. This time it hit the gunner’s shoulder, adding another seriously wounded man to this impregnable fortress.

But the thing the Soviets feared most had happened. Taking advantage of the German sniper’s continuous attacks, the ordinary German infantry, who had been pinned down by the machine gun, had closed the distance bit by bit. Now these German soldiers had approached to within a few dozen meters. Once the two sides were within twenty meters or even closer, the special weapon for dealing with bunkers—the flamethrower—could be used.

The old Soviet machine gunner bravely took over. He cut down an advancing German soldier with his machine gun, then suppressed the German soldiers who were constantly leaping forward with his bullets. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash in a corner in the distance.

He instinctively ducked, and a bullet blew off his epaulet. Everyone broke out in a cold sweat, but this veteran paid it no mind and continued to fire, cutting down another German soldier who had stood up, hoping to get a couple of steps closer.

But at this time, the shooting of the ordinary German soldiers had also become more accurate. The bullets began to land more and more densely around the firing port. The pressure on this old Soviet machine gunner increased, and he fired faster and faster, the sweat on his forehead pouring down more and more.

Another bullet flew into the firing port. This time, the old Soviet veteran was not so lucky, because this time the bullet that flew in was not from the distant German sniper, but a bullet fired by an ordinary German infantryman who had gotten lucky from a lower position.

This bullet entered the old veteran’s forehead and flew out the back of his head, taking with it blood and brains that splattered on the ceiling, staining a large area red. This old Soviet veteran, his eyes wide open, slowly fell, his face filled with unwillingness, but he did not even have time to let out a cry.

With a thud, this old Soviet veteran fell to the ground, kicking up a little dust. Another Soviet machine gunner gritted his teeth and took his place, without the slightest hesitation.

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