Chapter 757: German-Soviet War (71)

"Ura!!"

"Ura!!"

Thousands of Soviet soldiers shouted "Ura" and launched an attack on the German defense line. If they were facing new recruits, they would probably be frightened by the overwhelming momentum and surrender without a fight.

Unfortunately, they were facing the battle-hardened German army and were not frightened.

At a machine gun position, the machine gunner held the MG3 machine gun handle steadily and chatted calmly with the loader next to him. "What are these guys yelling? Hoffman, do you know that they shout "Ura" every time they charge?"

"You asked the right person, I'm a Russian major." Hoffman explained proudly. "The word 'Ura' has no specific meaning, it just expresses strong emotions." For example, Russian soldiers shouted "Ura" at the military parade, which is similar to "Long live"; and shouting "Ura! Ura!" when charging on the battlefield is similar to "Charge!" or "Kill!".

The machine gunner spat in disdain. "That's just barking nonsense? What a bunch of Slavic beasts! So barbaric. So stupid. What era is it? Still playing this kind of large-scale group charge." Before World War I, large-scale group charge scenes often appeared. The characteristics of this charge method are to use the majority to bully the minority, regardless of life and death, and the number of people makes up for the lack of equipment and combat literacy. But that was twenty years ago. Today's tactics are blitzkrieg, armored warfare, and air-to-ground integrated warfare; it is obvious that the Soviet army's tactical thinking is completely outdated.

Hoffman chuckled. "I hope they will continue to be so stupid, so that this battle will be easier to win."

As he spoke, flares hit the sky one by one. The pale flares emitted a dazzling light, making the night sky as bright as day, making people who have adapted to the darkness squint their eyes involuntarily.

"Fire!!"

Following the commander's order to fire, the machine gunner aimed at the crowd rushing over in the distance and pulled the trigger.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

As mentioned earlier, the MG3 is different from the MG42 in that it can adjust the rate of fire. With a 550-gram bolt and an N-type buffer, the rate of fire can exceed 1,200 rounds per minute. With a 950-gram bolt and an R-type buffer, the rate of fire can drop to 700-900 rounds per minute. At this time, the machine gun is equipped with a 550-gram bolt, and the red tracer bullets sprayed out form a fire whip, sweeping crookedly towards the attacking Soviet troops. Although there is only a bipod, the shooting stability of the MG3 machine gun is still quite good, and the slight vibration also makes the distribution of ammunition slightly spread, which plays a better suppressive role.

The attacking Soviet troops were too dense, and the machine gunner directly pulled the trigger, instantly firing all the 500-round belt, and the barrel was red hot. "Change the barrel!"

The barrel replacement of MG3 is quite simple. The loader wears heat-insulating gloves to open the latch and cover ring, pulls out the hot barrel and throws it aside, and quickly replaces the new barrel. The whole process takes less than ten seconds; after installing a new belt, the machine gun makes a creepy cloth-tearing sound again.

There are more than just their machine guns nearby. In addition to these machine guns, most of the other soldiers have automatic firepower in their hands. The dense firepower formed a terrible firepower network in front of the charging Soviet soldiers. How could most of the Soviet soldiers holding Mosin-Nagant rifles be the opponents of these strong firepower? The Soviet attack became a moth to a flame.

A few minutes later, an even more terrible sound was heard not far away. It was a "Cheetah" self-propelled anti-aircraft gun parked nearby. The turret is equipped with 4 20mm aircraft cannons, and the maximum firing rate of a single barrel is 850-1000 rounds/minute. This kind of firepower is used against infantry, which can only be described as an inhumane slaughter. Wherever the tracer bullets of the self-propelled anti-aircraft guns hit, large gaps would immediately appear.

"Ura!!"

At this time, more shouts joined in, and another group of Soviet soldiers rushed to the ground, rushing madly towards the German defense line. In the crowd, a young Soviet political commissar waved his pistol and shouted loudly. "For the Soviets! Forward!" Before he finished speaking, a large-caliber shell fell near him, and the shock wave of the explosion instantly tore the political commissar and the people around him into pieces.

The German artillery unit also joined in, and shells of various calibers fell like raindrops among the attacking crowd. Blood splashed and scattered among the crowd. Countless young soldiers fell down trembling all over, and there were already several layers of corpses that had not yet cooled down where they fell.

The Soviet soldiers who were attacking frantically finally felt something was wrong, but they did not retreat. Watching their comrades being knocked down by German bullets one after another, the rest of the Soviet soldiers roared like wounded beasts, holding their weapons and trying to break through the German positions again and again.

"Ura!"

The Soviet night attack lasted all night, leaving Commander Bock without much rest.

"This bunch of lunatics." Listening to the gunfire in the distance gradually subsiding, Commander Bock took another sip of coffee to refresh himself. "That Marshal Shaposhnikov can't sit still so soon?" They have only been attacking for one day, and the other side is so impatient to go all in? If the entire Smolensk was not surrounded by them, Commander Bock would even suspect that these Soviets had some conspiracy.

"Have our casualties been counted?"

"Report to the commander, the specific data has not been counted yet." A staff officer reported. "The total losses of each unit are about 600 to 700 people, and there may be some discrepancies."

Commander Bock nodded. "What about the Soviet army?"

"About 60,000 to 70,000 people? In some places, the bodies are piled up like a mountain. I'm afraid there will be more."

"That means 1:100? This deal is really a good deal. The Soviets will probably feel bad." Commander Bock smiled and ordered. "The soldiers on the front line have been fighting all night. Replace them all and let them rest for a day. Let the logistics troops deal with the bodies as soon as possible." It is June now. Although it is not the hottest time, so many bodies piled together cannot be ignored. The plague will spread in a few days. "Let the engineering vehicles come in and dig a big pit to bury them on the spot, or burn them on the spot."

"Yes!" The staff saluted and conveyed the order.

On the other side, in the Soviet command headquarters, the atmosphere in the combat meeting room can be said to have dropped to the freezing point. Not only did the night attack last night fail to achieve any effective results, but it also lost tens of thousands of soldiers in vain. This result made Commander Shaposhnikov's heart seem to bleed.

You know, losing almost 100,000 people in one day is equivalent to the annihilation of an infantry army! This loss is huge, and the Soviet army cannot afford it.

"I will take full responsibility for the failure of this attack." After a long silence, Commander Shaposhnikov slowly spoke. "Everyone can speak up for any ideas. How should we fight back against the German army?"