Chapter 763: Flames

In a short amount of time, the German bomber formation flew over the heads of the Soviets. These planes were like vultures that had spotted carrion, impossible to drive away; like maggots on a bone, impossible to shake off.

With roaring engines, a Stuka II attack aircraft found its target and began a leisurely dive-bombing run. The 20mm cannons on its wings, specially designed for attacking ground equipment, were extremely deadly. A series of attacks on the Red Army positions ripped a bloody swath through them.

The German pilot calmly centered the Soviet soldiers huddled in the trenches in his sights. Then, following the line of the trench, he dived and pulled the trigger. Through the crosshairs of his sight, he could see a cloud of smoke rising from the ground, moving forward with the plane’s advance.

The tracer rounds spewing from the cannons flew with a dazzling light into the smoke rising from the ground, making the row of smoke even denser. The ground was littered with corpses and the mangled limbs torn off by the shells. The entire trench was like a hell on earth, filled with blood and screams.

The escorting attack planes dived along with them, but they did not pour their ammunition onto the infantry positions. These attack planes aimed at the anti-aircraft gun positions that were returning fire, using bombs and cannon shells to destroy the few remaining pockets of resistance on the Soviet positions.

The German bombing of the Crimean Peninsula had not stopped since the beginning of autumn. Nearly 300 “Butcher” bombers of the strategic air force visited this pitiful Soviet territory almost every day. The fixed anti-aircraft gun positions that had originally been deployed on the peninsula had long since been bombed flat. Only a few small-caliber anti-aircraft weapons were left, hidden away.

But now, even the small-caliber anti-aircraft guns were few and far between. The battles of the past few days had cost the Soviets more than half of their air defense strength. The loss of their positions had also cost them a portion of their anti-aircraft guns. What was left was no longer much of a threat to the German attack aircraft units.

In addition, the German attack planes always covered each other when conducting ground attacks and were rarely caught alone. Therefore, it was not a very simple matter for the Soviet ground anti-aircraft fire to achieve any success. In most cases, these anti-aircraft gun positions would be destroyed in the first instance. Only in extremely rare, lucky circumstances would they have a chance to trade for a German plane in the sky.

A German plane flew overhead. In a concealed anti-aircraft gun position, several Soviet artillerymen looked up at the sky through the gaps in their camouflage netting and the white snow and withered leaves. How they wished they could tear off the camouflage and give the invaders a few good shots. But due to their lack of strength, they could not.

They had been ordered to preserve themselves as much as possible, and then, when an aircraft threatened an important facility like a bunker, to return fire suddenly. After shooting down the enemy plane, they were to salvage their own artillery as much as possible. But looking at the dense mass of German planes in the sky, these young Soviet artillerymen simply did not have the courage to fire the shells in their hands at the enemy.

They had personally seen a running Soviet soldier in a trench being hit by a 20mm cannon. His arm, as if torn off by something, had flown far, far away. Then the soldier’s body had swelled up, his intestines spewing all over the ground. He had collapsed in the trench, blood spraying onto the faces of the surrounding soldiers, who had screamed in terror.

Unfortunately, these terrified and screaming Soviet soldiers could not scream for more than a few short seconds, because a second diving Stuka II attack aircraft had once again poured its ammunition into this trench. In an instant, the flying ammunition had sent the trench into a frenzy. A full trench of about 30 soldiers was reduced to single digits in an instant.

Not far away, the top of a bunker was suddenly hit by a bomb dropped by a German plane. A huge explosion erupted, and the entire bunker collapsed. This was not the core area of the Sevastopol fortress, so some of the bunker works were not so strong. A single ordinary aerial bomb had solved the problem, and had solved it very thoroughly.

The concrete slabs collapsed at an angle. White dust and concrete fragments instantly buried the soldiers below. The intense vibration killed half of the men inside. Of the rest, some were crushed by the collapsing concrete ceiling, and some were directly finished off by the flying bomb fragments. In short, there was no more sound.

The old veteran who had first spotted the enemy planes and had turned to flee struggled to crawl out of the collapsed ruins. His position had been good. A few unlucky souls had shielded him from the flying debris and the rubble that had fallen from the ceiling. And so he had survived. Although his ears were ringing, and it seemed he could no longer hear any other sounds, he was still very grateful, grateful that he could continue to breathe.

He saw that in a concealed anti-aircraft gun position not far from the trench, some soldiers were waving at him. He looked around and saw that he was the only living person still kneeling by the ruins. And under his knees was the chest of another Soviet soldier. He crawled forward with hands stained red with someone’s blood, pulling his feet out of the ruins. He scrambled over the dead and into the anti-aircraft gun position, leaning against some ammunition boxes and gasping for breath.

He didn’t know what the others were saying to him, because his ears were just a constant ringing. But after panting for a while, he felt the pain from his body. He raised his arm to look at it, and only then did he realize that a piece of metal was stuck in his arm, he didn’t know from where.

Without having time to pull out the damn shrapnel, he looked up at his surroundings. The soldiers on the anti-aircraft gun position were scrambling to remove the camouflage netting. The snow on top fell down, and a bone-chilling coldness went down the old Soviet soldier’s neck.

His vision became clearer. He saw that on the distant positions, German planes were dropping one bomb after another. Huge flames rose from there, as if everything were burning. He remembered seeing this kind of bomb before. A few months ago, more than half of his comrades had been burned to death by this kind of bomb. The officers called this kind of bomb a napalm bomb. It was said that once ignited, the flames on one’s body could never be extinguished.

He had personally seen a soldier whose entire arm had been devoured by the fierce flames, the skin on his face melted by the fire. After being sent to the field hospital, that soldier had not stopped wailing. A few days later, this unlucky fellow had died in the hospital. The result of wasting bandages and painkillers was just that he had suffered for a little while longer, and that was all.

To be honest, this old Soviet soldier was just a poor peasant. He knew nothing about science and technology or advanced weapons and equipment. In his eyes, the Germans who had invented these terrible things were no different from the devil, Satan. Normal human beings should not use such cruel methods to mutilate their own kind. But these weapons were now all on the battlefield, like the terrifying scythe of the Grim Reaper, reaping people’s lives.

It seemed as if everything was over, or rather, everything should have ended here. The old soldier dejectedly discovered that a German bomber not far away was flying towards them. And it was clear that the other party had discovered that there was an anti-aircraft gun position here that could pose a threat.

Lowering his gaze, the old soldier struggled to stand up. He saw in the distance a Soviet soldier in a cotton-padded coat beating at the flames on his body. Unfortunately, his hands were not able to extinguish the flames on his body, but instead caused his own palms and sleeves to catch fire. The burning substance in the napalm bombs was adhesive and would easily stick to any object it came into contact with, igniting it as well.

Struggling and running, that soldier finally crashed into another person who was also covered in flames. Both of them fell to the ground and disappeared from the old soldier’s view. It was clear what their final end was. No one could survive in the “devil’s flames.”

Before this old Soviet soldier could recover, the blast wave of an explosion blew him into the air. His entire body was like a leaf in the wind, leaping several meters and then falling heavily onto the ruins of the bunker from which he had just crawled. He was thrown into a daze and only with great difficulty did he regain his train of thought from the chaos.

The German planes in the sky seemed to be returning to base. They had gained altitude and were forming up in the sky, flying back in the direction they had come from. The ringing in his ears was even worse. Struggling to sit up, the old Soviet soldier saw the anti-aircraft gun position where he had just been sheltering. A Soviet soldier was leaning against the shelter, wiping the blood from his face. The others were all lying on the ground, motionless.

A Soviet soldier tumbled into this trench and leaned against the wall, panting heavily. He looked at the old soldier, then broke into a grin, showing his white teeth. He laughed and laughed until tears streamed down his face, and then he began to sob. This trench, including the section by the bunker, had been garrisoned by almost a full company. Now, most of these men were gone. It seemed it would be a struggle to even scrape together 20.

The three of them just sat there, not knowing what they should do. Not long after, the old Soviet soldier saw a Panther tank, under the cover of a Panzer III assault gun, begin to cross the trench they were in. Behind these tanks followed cautious German grenadiers.

The old Soviet soldier lowered his head, wanting to find a weapon, but he was not so lucky. The weapons on the ruins were all damaged, and the nearest intact rifle was at least five meters away. He struggled for a moment, then began to move his wounded body, crawling with difficulty towards that Mosin-Nagant.

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