Chapter 821: Fleeing for Their Lives

Rein saw the enemy artillery position erupt in smoke and dust as their cannon collapsed. The huge muzzle flash from its final shot had completely given away its location. He pressed his throat microphone and shouted to Baumann, “Reverse! We’re going back the way we came!”

“There’s a Stalin tank on the road,” Andre said, feeling the tank begin to back up after firing. He reminded Rein while signaling Bruce to load an armor-piercing round.

Rein narrowed his eyes, replaying the enemy’s shot in his mind. He knew they had fired, and it had probably hit the bridge behind him. He had been a step too slow. Even if he retreated safely now, his tank would have nowhere to go.

Maybe I’ve been living a comfortable life for too long, Rein thought. He poked his head out, swept a Soviet infantryman off to the side with his assault rifle, and then took one last look at the now-devastated Soviet artillery position. It seems the enemy wasn’t just waiting to be slaughtered. War is never a smooth ride.

The firing and subsequent collapse of the Soviet cannon created a powerful visual impact. Flames had erupted, and smoke filled the air. If the German attack planes swarming the sky still couldn’t see this exposed enemy target, they might as well be called blind.

And so, two Stuka II bombers flew over Rein’s head and dropped a string of small bombs on the Soviet artillery position. The bombs destroyed another overturned cannon and blew the scattered Soviet artillerymen to smithereens.

Time to go. It was really time to go. Rein ducked back into his turret and began to change his gun’s magazine. While retreating, the Tiger tank used a lull in the firing to execute a neutral turn, pointing its nose back the way it had come. Baumann was indeed a madman of a driver. He kept the tank steady and rhythmic, not interfering in the slightest with Alice and Andre, who were still firing.

As the Tiger completed its turn, it also brought its most powerful turret to bear on the Stalin tank lying in ambush. Andre had no intention of letting that tank get a third shot off at them while they retreated. Small-caliber shells began to explode around Rein’s tank. It seemed the Soviets had no intention of letting this Tiger escape unscathed either.

A dense hail of bullets rained down, pattering against the tank’s armor plates. If the Soviets hadn’t expected a lone wolf to charge into their position at a time like this, on his way back, they had certainly prepared enough killing blows along the route to threaten a Tiger tank.

A shell from an anti-tank gun struck the Tiger’s turret. Thanks to its sloped armor and the tent hanging on it, the shell didn’t penetrate. It only blew away the tent and an empty fuel tank. Small-caliber anti-tank guns had been rendered obsolete by the new tanks introduced by both sides, but the Soviets, in their principle of “waste not, want not,” continued to use this rather ineffective weapon. The facts proved that this outdated anti-tank gun was, at times, unable to even threaten the side armor of a Tiger tank, let alone its frontal main armor.

“Damn it! We’re hit!” It was like a sledgehammer striking a steel plate. The men inside the tank could, of course, clearly feel the jolt. Bruce shouted as he prepared another round for Andre, reacting to the small-caliber shell.

“Shut up! It only went through our tent!” Rein roared back. He then stuck his upper body out of the tank again, holding his assault rifle, doing his best to cover the rear and the other flank that his tank couldn’t reach. Although it was extremely difficult to aim from the swaying hull, thanks to his solid marksmanship fundamentals, he still managed to take down a large number of Soviet soldiers who were trying to approach from behind.

This Tiger tank was like Zhao Zilong on his white steed at Changbanpo, charging through the thousands of Soviet troops. Behind the tank, a long, bloody path was left in its wake. The ground it had passed over was stained red with blood.

BOOM! The Tiger fired a shot at a T-34 that had charged out halfway. At this range, it was like a bayonet fight, a contest of who could aim faster and get the first shot off. Andre’s speed and accuracy had never let Rein down. They were a well-coordinated ace crew who almost never made mistakes.

Because the distance was so close, the T-34, which had just charged in front of Rein’s tank from the bushes, was directly penetrated by the armor-piercing round. The tank then cooked off, becoming a ball of fire. The Soviet crew who had tried to jump out were turned into sieves by the hull machine gun, and they lay on the tank’s hatch, turning to ash along with their vehicle.

“Remember that Stalin tank that fired on us?” Rein emptied another magazine, dropped it at his feet, then took out a new one and slammed it into his rifle, asking the intently focused Andre.

“Of course I remember. You don’t think I’d just let that bastard who tried to kill me go, do you?” Andre said as he traversed his turret. The Tiger’s turret, driven by its electric motor, spun quickly, aiming the terrifying 88mm cannon at the Stalin tank’s last known position.

“It’s not in its original position! Damn it!” Andre said as he crashed through a wide tree, its trunk already riddled with bullet holes. The Stalin tank he remembered, well-camouflaged in a crater, was not in his sights. Clearly, the enemy was no fool. While Rein and his men had been pushing forward, it had moved.

“Yes! Straight ahead, eleven o’clock!” Rein poked his head out. A bullet struck his hatch, forcing him to duck back. But in that split second, out of the corner of his eye, he had spotted the enemy’s position.

At his shout, the Tiger’s turret, without the slightest pause, began to turn towards the eleven o’clock position. But the enemy clearly had no intention of giving this Tiger another chance. It fired first. The shell was incredibly accurate, blowing the hatch of Rein’s Tiger right off his head. The massive impact shattered the riveted structure, breaking the connecting parts.

Some debris fell onto Rein’s military cap. The huge sound could be heard clearly even through his headset. After all, this was a 122mm armor-piercing round. Even if it had just flown over his head, the shock it caused was absolutely unparalleled.

Rein didn’t pause. He stuck his weapon out and fired a rough burst in the direction from which he had just been fired upon. He then poked his head out again and continued to aim and fire. The bullets struck a fallen tree, kicking up a shower of splintered wood.

Clang! Before Rein could pull his head back, an armor-piercing round, right before his eyes, struck the rear of the Tiger. The external armor plate protecting the exhaust pipe was blown off, along with a section of the tank’s exhaust pipe and a section of the rear mudguard. Rein couldn’t help but feel sorry for these Soviet artillerymen. They had finally hit their target, but they had only managed to take out a bunch of insignificant things.

Andre had by this time already turned his turret to the most threatening Stalin tank. Bruce had also loaded a tungsten-core armor-piercing round into the breech. All firing preparations were complete. The Tiger also cooperated with a short stop, giving the gunner a more stable firing environment.

Andre did not make his opponent wait long. Before the slow-loading Stalin tank could fire its second, fatal shot, the Tiger had fired its shell of revenge. This shell drew a straight line and cut into the side armor of the Stalin tank’s hull, and then, with a searing torrent of steel, it ignited the fuel tank of this Soviet heavy tank.

Searing flames instantly engulfed that Stalin tank. Rein’s tank started up again with the explosion of this tank. Because a section of the exhaust pipe, which was used for silencing, had been blown off, the sound of the Tiger’s engine was a bit strange this time, making a popping sound like a motorcycle.

“We’re almost out of shells! Andre! Think of something!” Bruce said, looking at the almost empty ammunition box beside him and reminding Andre to conserve ammunition. The ammunition storage position next to Rein was already empty. The few shells left by Bruce’s side were all they had.

“There are enemies on all four sides! What do you want me to do?” Andre said, firing another shell. This shell was in retaliation for the enemy’s anti-tank gun position. The effect did not seem to be very obvious. The armor-piercing round just kicked up a cloud of earth on the emplacement and had none of the explosive power of a high-explosive shell.

“Baumann! We’re only a few hundred meters from our position. Full speed! Don’t worry about whether this tank can hold on, just go!” Rein’s hatch had been blown off, and he had lost his cover from behind. So the opportunities for him to poke his head out and fire were becoming fewer and fewer, and the bullets flying past his open hatch were becoming denser and denser.

Hearing Rein’s words, Baumann made this steel monster go even faster. This was almost the Tiger’s top speed. This big fellow had once reached an astonishing 33 kilometers per hour on the test track, but that was under good conditions.

The tank’s tracks were rolling at high speed with the road wheels, making a slight creaking sound. It was clear that these tracks, which had been worn for a long time, were a little overloaded. As for whether they could hold on until the moment Rein hoped for, only God really knew.

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