No matter how long the air raid is, it will eventually come to an end.
When the rain of fire and dust that filled the sky in response to the rockets and aerial bombs settled, the "Slavic swarm" that blocked the sky finally gradually disappeared with the roar of the engine.
What was left to the remnants of the SS was not a life after the disaster, but stepping on the floating soil and accelerating all the way to kill the oncoming Russian mechanized army.
Soon after the air raid ended, the sound of gunfire and explosions rang out again, but this time it did not come from the sky, but the final fight took place on the ground.
To say it is the final fight, it is actually more appropriate to say it is the final cleanup of the battlefield.
A considerable part of the SS died in the horrific air raids with unprecedented intensity. Many of the remaining survivors were strong men captured by compulsory conscription. They had no intention of fighting to the death. Where could they escape after taking advantage of the chaos?
Do you want to come back and continue to die with these crazy lunatics who caught you as a young man?
You hate these bastards who want to kill you. Why don't you hurry up and die before it's too late? Do you expect those strong men who were forcibly captured to be of the same mind as you who were defeated like a mountain?
It would be better to hope that Roosevelt, who had just sent it not long ago, suddenly announced that he had temporarily suspended his own death, came back to life, and immediately announced that he was coming to aid Germany and fight against the Soviet Union.
A lot of them died and a lot of them ran away.
The only ones left are those fanatical dregs who still have thoughts and ideas to fight again, but neither the actual situation nor the physical condition is enough to support the transformation of their will into actual actions.
Most of these fanatics who were lucky enough to survive the air raids were blown up to the point where they were so paralyzed that they felt like skin peeling and cramps.
The whole person looked like a mud monster when he was leaning on the wall. His legs were trembling when he stood up against the wall. As for dizziness, tinnitus and tremors, these are basic conditions that almost everyone has.
Do you expect such a group of SS stragglers who have been almost "harmless" to be able to stop the leading division that is coming with tanks, artillery and mechanized infantry? I'm afraid even the shampoo guy himself was there to see it.
Shake his head.
The process is expected and the result is reasonable.
There was no organization at all. Most of them were remnants of resistance in groups of twos and threes or even fighting on their own. Basically, it took less than a cup of tea to be eliminated by the large force of the leader's division that rushed forward.
The brief and limited-intensity gunfire exchange quickly passed, and when the large formations ceased one after another, the only sound left was the sound of replenishing guns and clearing them in twos and threes still echoing in the sky.
"So... everything is over? That's it???"
His tone sounded a bit unbelievable, and it was obvious that this boy Iushkin was not satisfied yet, and wanted to fight for a few more rounds, and do more to the death.
Malashenko, who remained silent, chose not to comment. He pushed open the turret hatch above his head and leaned his upper body out of the car.
The moment he breathed in the so-called "fresh air" outside the car, what caught Malashenko's eyes was the lingering warmth after a fierce battle on a purgatory-like battlefield.
Corpses scattered everywhere, as well as various pieces of meat that were not even considered "corpses", and broken limbs, covered almost every inch of land and every corner within sight.
The wreckage of the destroyed King Tiger and Jagdtiger was still burning, and the car body was blown to pieces until only half of the No. 4 was left. It could still be seen that it was a late-model No. 4. As for the "German Aerospace Killer"
The turret had been blown away by the huge blast and it was unknown where it went, and Malashenko didn't care anyway.
Thick smoke and fire engulfed and danced on the battlefield, constantly drifting and spreading. The air was filled with the smoke of incompletely burned gunpowder, the strong and pungent smell of burnt barbecue and a huge amount of blood.
Malashenko has been to many cruel battlefield ruins, but to be honest, the battlefield ruins are like the one in front of him now.
Not to mention that it has never been encountered before, at least in the list of tragic battlefield ruins encountered by Malashenko, it is definitely among the top three "tops".
The AK with the folding gun stock on its shoulder jumped from the turret and stepped on the ruins of King's Square where even the soil was warm.
The moment he landed, he felt something was obviously strange under his feet. It didn't feel like he was stepping on the ground, but more like stepping into a cotton sleeve. Malashenko kept silent, lowered his head and bent over and grabbed the rather hot floating soil on the ground.
, rub it a little, and a sharp tingling sensation immediately comes from the palm of your hand and goes straight into your mind.
"One, two, three, four, five-eight, eight pieces of cannonball skin."
He just grabbed a handful of loose soil at random, opened his palms and counted them carefully, and found eight metal fragments of different sizes and shapes.
Perhaps it was left behind after the explosion of an aerial bomb, of course it could also be rockets or howitzer shells, or even residual evidence left after a shot from a tank's main gun.
No one can count how many explosives the Red Army dropped on King's Square and at the foot of the Parliament Building today, and how many Nazis they killed. Even Malashenko himself, who was looking up at the dome of the Parliament Building, couldn't tell clearly.
.
Looking at the victory flag fluttering in the wind, Malashenko felt an indescribable feeling in his heart.
It seemed exciting or emotional, but it was more like he finally had a perfect explanation for what he had been working so hard for so long.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Following the actions of Comrade Commander, they jumped down from the turret together, and stood on the ruins of the King's Square, which was in a mess and full of tragedy. They looked up at the majestic red fluttering high on the top of the Parliament Building.
Even the "second uncle" like Iushkin, who is always careless and has a habit of talking nonsense, can't help but have strong emotional fluctuations at this moment, just because of the red color flying on the top of the Capitol Building.
.
"It's been too long. We've been waiting for this moment for too long. From 41 years to today, everything is just for today! There are so many good people, so many people who love us and our loved ones, but they haven't been able to wait until today.
He has already fallen on the way forward.”
"After so much effort, this day has finally arrived for us! We fought hard with our own hands and fought it out with our own hands!"
On the turret of the car behind him, the slogan "Revenge for the hero Kirill" that he painted with his own hands is still there to this day.
After such a long war experience, it has been weathered and scratched, but the weight of this sentence in the hearts of Iushkin and the entire 177 crew has never changed.
Reaching out my hand and caressing the cold slogan, the scenes from the past and the familiar voices and smiles are still there.
"Did you see that? Bro, this is our victory! We did it!"