"Attention all vehicle crews, squads, battalions, companies and platoon-level commanders! I am Malashenko, your comrade division commander, fighting side by side with you anytime and anywhere. I am holding a radio in my hand and talking directly to each of you.
Prick up your ears and listen carefully."
"What we are facing now is a desperate enemy that is stubbornly resisting. If they are unwilling to surrender, then we will give them complete destruction."
"You are allowed to use all power and all means to fight with the goal of destroying every inch of land in this neighborhood where Nazi militants are standing. Use all weapons that can be launched, use your maximum firepower, and destroy the motherland for us.
Every artillery piece and every round of ammunition produced will be poured into the enemy's face, giving them death!"
"Writing history here in the name of the great leader Comrade Stalin, let the enemy witness with his own eyes the greatest industrial creation from the motherland. Send those nazis to hell to meet their perishing comrades! We will step on the smoking na.
Pure corpses lead to victory! Charge the enemy, hurrah!"
When Malashenko's inspiring words were transmitted in the form of radio waves to the leadership division, the radio station had been spread to every siege unit and every combat group at the squad level.
The already full morale of the Kurbalov brigade was once again injected with a surge of blood. The passionate war cry that made the German soldiers' ears numb and their whole bodies trembled instantly reverberated in every corner of the battlefield in the neighborhood.
Through the sky.
"For the motherland, long live the leader! Comrades, attack! Ula!!!"
The German army, which was already entangled in despair, now faced a mountain of trembling and fear.
The "crazy Russians" wielded all the weapons that could be fired, driving the steel behemoths that had broken free from their cages, shouting heart-stopping war cries and killing them all the way.
Following the orders of Comrade Division Commander, most of the German garrison buildings along the street were not even able to fight with the Red Army soldiers who rushed into the buildings as they had done a few days ago, or even more during the Stalingrad period.
Those roaring and roaring flying explosives of 122mm starting, 152mm uncapped, and 310mm large and full tubes became the final sonata for the funeral of these German soldiers who could not even see what the enemy looked like.
Whirring whirring--
Boom boom boom——
Rumble——
Killing cries and war cries had already resounded over the battlefield and echoed for a long time, but the ferocious roar erupted by the industrial masterpiece created by the Soviet war machine was even more terrifying.
If 122 doesn't blow up, go for 152. If 152 doesn't blow up, go for 310. If 310 doesn't blow up, fire another half box salvo.
When you feel that the enemy's fortifications and bunkers cannot be conquered, don't blame the enemy for being too difficult to deal with. Find the reason within yourself first.
There is no such thing as a fortification bunker target that cannot be dealt with. It does not exist. If you find it difficult to deal with it, it is because you lack firepower. There is only one simple and true reason.
In just half an hour, it was a battle to clean up the remnants of the enemy. Malashenko, who was pressed for time, increased the firepower to a level of firepower that had never been seen in the past few days.
The top batch of heavy firepower technical weapons of the Kurbalov Brigade, with an unprecedented equipment density, were almost all concentrated in the battle to clear the remaining enemies in the streets, with full firepower.
It is no exaggeration to say that the various types of artillery shells fired every minute on the current street battlefield are more than the number of infantrymen put into this battle by the leader's division, and they are much more.
Faced with a ferocious attack by a barrage of artillery shells that was several times the number of the enemy, I originally expected to rely on the buildings on the streets to delay time, to see if I could find a way to hold on until dark and then use the cover of night to take advantage of the chaos to break out of the German army. Until then,
Only then did I completely realize that my idea had been impossible to realize from the beginning.
The Russians on the opposite side knew exactly what they wanted to do, and had no intention of letting it succeed.
Looking at the desperate hellish scene outside the broken window frame, listening to the explosions and machine gun fire one after another in my ears, and feeling the desperate cries of our own soldiers on their deathbed, getting closer and closer and becoming clearer and clearer.
, and took one last look at the division team standing around him, who had never given up from the beginning to the end.
One of his arms had been broken off by Russian shelling, and his face was covered in blood. Half of his body was still bandaged. With the help of his adjutant, he could barely stand. The Lieutenant General of the Wehrmacht took a deep breath. The last moment was about
For everyone standing here, it is already here.
"Telegram to the Berlin garrison headquarters, dear Führer."
"The 6th Infantry Division of the National Defense Forces has tried its best in several days of continuous fighting, fighting fiercely to the last moment with a powerful enemy whose strength is several times greater than ours, ensuring that it fulfills its oath under the military flag and faithfully fulfills the will of the head of state.
.”
"Our troops are now out of ammunition, without any support, with all their personnel and technical equipment destroyed in the battle. We are besieged by the enemy's elite 1st Guards Tank Division, the 'Stalin' Division, in a corner of the south block of the city."
"Our unit is being annihilated and is preparing to gather the last strength to launch a counterattack against the enemy. Please do not reply to the telegram. We are burning documents and destroying radio stations. Some of the troops that have successfully broken through must inherit the honor of the 6th Infantry Division and continue to defend Berlin.
Fight, may loyalty and honor always be with the German soldiers."
"Commander of the 6th Infantry Division of the Wehrmacht, Lieutenant General Otto Hermann Adolf Bruck."
When the last rays of the setting sun sank into the horizon, Malashenko stepped onto the scorched earth with the warmth still lingering under his feet and arrived at the ruins of the battlefield in the neighborhood, looking around.
Looking at this ruined place without a trace of life left among the ruins, everything as far as the eye can see is bricks, rubble and ruins. I can't say I'm very surprised by what I got today, but at least I am satisfied with the passing grade.
Ke then raised the corner of his mouth.
"Cherish this last chance to survive, you scumbags, I will send you all to hell to keep you company before long."
Malashenko, who got off the captain's seat of his IS7 and had just wandered around the ruins twice, was planning to check on the wounded and inquire about the details of the battle damage, which was said to be not that big.
Alsim, who had never expected to be assigned to lead the team to rest early, suddenly ran towards him in a hurry, holding something in his hand and looking excited.
"Didn't I ask you to lead the team down to rest? Why are you here again?"
Malashenko, who felt that his order had been "disobeyed", looked unhappy, at least he looked "displeased".
Alsim, who looked excited, could not care about this at this time, and quickly handed a piece of dusty torn paper in his hand to Malashenko.
"Read this first, Comrade Commander. I can't read German, but I read it over and over again and it's so interesting! Please read it quickly."
"Um?"
Malashenko, who looked doubtful and interested at the same time, took the torn paper handed over by Alsim, raised his hand, and took a closer look to find that it was indeed very interesting.
The thing in Malashenko's hand was none other than the handwritten manuscript of the Wehrmacht Lieutenant General's "Death Death". Who knows why this thing was not destroyed, and then went to Alsim's hands, and now it has been sent to
In your own hands.
"Where did you get this? Where is the person who wrote this? Have you caught him?"
When Malashenko asked, Alsim scratched the back of his head and began to recall the details and then spoke.
"I found this thing among the ruins. When we were checking whether there were any Germans alive, there was only one arm left buried in the ruins. I was holding this thing in my hand. When I took it off, I didn't expect it to be there.
It’s very interesting, so I sent it to you.”
"I haven't seen the person who wrote this thing. He was probably buried under the ruins and smashed into meat patties. I heard that the broken building was completely destroyed by a direct hit from a TOS-1 salvo. I think it would be a waste of time.
When you dig it out, it's just meat and meat, so why not save some energy and keep doing it tomorrow?"
"Oh, interesting."
Malashenko couldn't help but laugh when he heard Alsim's narration. He was quite satisfied. He looked at the "Death Manuscript" in his hand, folded it, put it away, and put it in his pocket.
"I guess the Germans may not have received this telegram. I bet there is probably no time to send it out. Our newspaper comrades have a big article to do tonight, so they have to work overtime."