Small-caliber grenades need to be fired accurately to hit targets with earthen bunkers. Otherwise, if a grenade with a caliber that is too small, such as a 76 mm grenade, is hit, it may only make an audible sound and be useless.
However, similar problems do not exist at all in the 152 Divine Cult. The 152mm high-explosive grenade, which does not kill with point damage but with surface damage, has already risen from the level of a Noble Phantasm against people to a Noble Phantasm against cities.
Just a simple rough aim and rapid shooting, a roaring 152 grenade hit the German position, causing catastrophic consequences in an instant like a raging cloud.
Explosive flames like thunderous waves rose up from the ground almost simultaneously with the instantaneous fall of the shells! But what was even more unfortunate was that in the early morning, there was a cool wind after the rain blowing on the Prokhorovka grassland. Although the wind speed was not too high,
Big but definitely not tiny.
The wind helps the fire, and the fire relies on the wind.
The already dense exploding flames of death were blown away by a sudden strong wind, and the horrific visual effect became even more impactful in the blink of an eye.
Although for the SS soldiers surrounded by flames and blasts of wind, death was only a painful moment, and even difficult to feel.
But there is no doubt that the remains they left in this world, that is, corpses, will still replace the souls that have been torn out by the storm and flames, and continue to taste the fire of judgment after committing countless sins and being stained with the blood of innocent people.
The 152 justice that strikes hastily comes and goes quickly.
And when the continuous wave of flames finally subsided, a wisp of breeze blew away the blazing gunpowder smoke, and all that was left around the huge craters were a bunch of twisted and deformed anti-tanks.
Remains of gun parts and body parts.
Anyone who has never seen the battlefield with his own eyes and sees this scene for the first time will probably not be able to tell that the pieces of meat that have been divided into dozens or even hundreds of fragments were at least once a complete person when put together.
.
The roaring and fierce bombardment of the su152 is indeed effective. Those brand-new pak43s that were still relying on their positions and arrogant were all misfired after this wave of highly targeted fierce bombardment.
Can launch.
Through the commander's periscope in front of his hand, Malashenko, who was fighting in his commander's position, could see clearly.
The Pak43 that had just fired two shots at him had been blown to the ground, and a wheel flew away. The barrel was twisted and deformed into a twist, and even the huge muzzle brake had disappeared. I don't know.
Where was it blown away?
The SS soldiers who were killed on the spot by the 152 grenade and shocked to death, so that they were at the center of the explosion and vaporized into a near molecular state on the spot. At this moment, they are undoubtedly extremely lucky beings. At least they no longer have to linger in this world.
Feeling the final pain of all kinds of torture.
"My legs...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," please help me. Please give me a hand and take me out of here, my legs! My legs are all gone! Come and help me, please!
"
The shrill wails of ghosts and wolves could not be heard by Malashenko, who was tightly protected by thick armor.
But the unlucky SS man whose pak43 was rolled over and pinned directly under the cannon had a distorted expression on his face, and his two claws were waving and scratching like a demon from hell trying to climb up from the crack, and he was clinging to life.
Taking his last breath and struggling to survive, Malashenko could see clearly and completely through the image of the commander's periscope in his hand.
"Look at that German guy, he's as miserable as if his mother was dead, if he really had a mother."
Iushkin, who showed no pretense of sympathy or pity, was joking in his mockery, as if what fell there was not a person, but a half-dead animal waiting to be slaughtered. The high-magnification narrow field of view was pointing at the same line of fire.
The main gun sight allowed Iushkin to see all this more clearly than Malashenko, with a panoramic view.
None of the other comrades in the car felt that Iushkin's words were distorted and seemed weird. Even Kirill, who was the most junior member of the entire 177 crew and was a graduate of the music department and was easily moved by the situation, was listening.
After Iushkin described it in his mouth, there was no expression of surprise at all.
Mercy? Kindness? Compassion?
It is indeed worthy to use the corresponding feelings represented by these beautiful modifiers for human beings, but for this group of people who wear human skin and do all kinds of bestiality, even underage girls and old women on crutches will not be spared.
Who is qualified to express kindness and sympathy to those innocent civilians who were killed by being hanged on the gallows, euphemistically called as a warning to others?
No one would think that the unscrupulous SS soldiers deserved to be treated as prisoners. Depending on their mood, the Americans and British who came from afar might show mercy as if they were throwing two bones.
But in this land, under the red flag of the Soviet Union, the best way to deal with these SS scum is physical eradication. Watch these garbage people who do not deserve to live in the world die in pain, being annihilated and purified by the flames and blasts of wind.
When there are not even any scum left, this is the best compliment to the Red Army soldiers who came one after another to eliminate these beasts.
Reloading the su152 takes a long time, and Malashenko does not expect to rely on the continuous fire suppression of this thing to allow him to comfortably grind all the way to the position.
As long as we can knock out those pak43s protected by thick and exquisite earth bunkers, the remaining threats will not be a concern at all. Facing is2, a bunch of German sick cats that can't even do a 50-50 fight can't be stopped at all.
The raging torrent of steel is approaching.
Looking at the pak43s that were carefully arranged and thought to be able to play a big role, they were reduced to parts by a group of inconspicuous Russian self-propelled artillery that suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Cursing that the Russians opposite had more new equipment than his own, Wittmann ordered the car to stop. The heavy turret driven by the electric steering wheel drove the 88mm main gun to rotate slowly, and it didn't take long for it to be aimed at the target.
The Russian heavy tank was about to run over the edge of the position.
"Which one should I hit? Michelle!"
There were too many targets within his sight, and the young gunner, who even spoke so hurriedly that he was about to bite his tongue, shouted loudly to the commander Wittmann, who was the eldest in the crew and also had rich combat experience.
Seeking guidance and goals.
Driven by a knee-jerk reaction, Wittmann wanted to order the attack on the frontmost target first without thinking. From the perspective of giving priority to the biggest threat, doing so was obviously common sense.
But Wittmann, who had a better omnidirectional vision thanks to the commander's command tower, once he saw the steel monster rushing at the front, his frown was even worse than the 7 in the 177 number on the front of the opponent's car.
Be more flexible.
Wittmann would never forget that he had made several useless efforts in the direction of Oboyan's frontal breakthrough. The scene when an armor-piercing projectile fired from a distance of one kilometer hit this monster was simply a surprise!
Should I continue to try and take the huge risk of failure, or should I go against common sense but win steadily?
For Wittmann, who was already sweating on his forehead and running out of time, this was obviously a difficult problem worthy of serious consideration and enough to determine his own fate.