Steel Soviet Union

Of course, there is much more to do than just sit here and brag.

Although he kept talking, Wittmann and his brothers also kept moving their hands.

You pick up branches, I pick up leaves, and he picks up a big bush.

While passing the time while working and chatting, the Wittmann brothers basically gathered together the required camouflage materials, and one by one they started painting the lame 70-ton Royal Sister. Makeup.

"Hand me that grass, that one."

"How about putting it here? Should it be moved a little further to the right? Will it block the view of the gun scope?"

"Hang this down, insert it next to the towing cable buckle, and add another one here."

Everyone was busy camouflaging the huge Tiger King with local materials collected from everywhere. Branches with leaves and bundled shrubs and grass were inserted or hung on the entire front of the Tiger King. Projection everywhere. After placing it, I had to ask my comrades under the car to see if it fit. If it didn't fit, I had to adjust the position. The brothers were really busy but also in an orderly manner.

Wittmann, who was standing next to the car directing the disguise work, raised his hand and looked at the time on his watch. He found that more than ten minutes had passed since he entered the woods. Then he looked up at the nearest and tallest tree next to him. It was almost the top of the tallest tree. At a glance, he saw a familiar figure with his back to him, looking into the distance with a telescope.

"Hershel, did you see anything?"

The figure sitting on a tree branch seven or eight meters above the ground turned his head and looked at the ground after hearing this. He followed Wittmann's figure and looked at each other before speaking.

"Everything is normal. I didn't even see any Yankee hair. But I didn't bring any cigarettes. Hey Wegener, find a tin box with two cigarettes and throw them up to me. I'm addicted to smoking."

When the radio operator on the tree branch shouted this, Wegner, who was busy putting grass on the edge of the gun mantlet, looked up and found that it was his old enemy who was looking for trouble for him again, and he blurted out disdainful words.

"My muscles are weak and I can't throw it that high. I want to whip myself down to get it."

"Hey! How could this be? Did your muscles become weak when you were dancing and playing music with the girl on the bed?"

"You're looking for a fucking fight, aren't you? I'll go into the turret and give you a shot!"

The voices on the ground and in the trees were really loud. Wittmann, who didn't like this situation to continue, quietly interjected.

"Shut up! If you want to make a noise, go to the car and make a noise. If you talk nonsense, I'll hang you both on a tree."

""

Wittmann's order was very effective after all. The two chirping little boys shut their mouths on the spot. The experience of the only old man in the whole car was indeed well recognized by everyone, and there was no need to ask any nonsense questions.

"Do you think those Americans are still coming? If they don't come, won't our work be in vain? Huh?"

After finishing all the work at hand, Wegner sat down next to the turret and on the dome of the vehicle body. He took out the cigarettes and lighter in his pocket and began to "worship" and smoke. Wittmann, who was under the car, also sat on the edge of the track and lit a cigarette for himself, speaking quietly with a fairy air floating in his mouth.

"Just wait, I don't know if they will come, I just guessed that they will come. Those Americans always want to show off their strength, so there is no reason to make an exception this time."

"Hit him on the left cheek and then stretch out the right cheek for you to slap? Ha, I like these Americans. I am serious about this. I just like their character of getting together even if they are beaten."

Wegner at the side of the turret had not finished speaking and was still mocking and laughing, but he did not expect that a violent roar came from the distance above his head and followed him unexpectedly.

"Oh, oh, oh, Yankee's plane! The flies are coming! Take cover! Herschel, be careful not to fall! Hold on to the tree trunk and hide! Hurry!"

While he was busy running down from the turret, he did not forget to remind his injured friend in the tree. As soon as Wegner's feet touched the ground, Wittmann, who was holding a cigarette in his mouth, held his head down. He forced himself into the grass on the side, and his reaction speed was not even as fast as Wittmann's hand.

"Get down, get down quickly! Get down and stay down!"

The four people who had just finished their work next to the Tiger King under the tree were now like frightened rabbits, one or two of them, not daring to move rashly. Wittmann and others only dared to lie down in the grass beside the car and be careful. Be alert and watch the two small black spots in the sky from far to near.

"Two? Why only two? Aren't those Yankees always covering up the sky?"

Wegener, who was lying on the ground like a thief and not forgetting to look at the sky, complained softly, and the main loader on the side, who was also looking at the sky, immediately added.

"Aren't two of them enough to knock down one of your tanks? Do you underestimate the power of aerial bombs?"

"It's not that I'm looking down on you, it's just that those Yankee flies probably don't throw enough of them, haha."

Whispers on the ground were accompanied by violent roars in the sky. Two US military aircraft approaching from far away quickly jumped into the field of vision clearly visible to the naked eye, and they were truly flying over the woods.

"Damn it! It's a Yankee's flying milk bottle. I will never forget this flying fat man in my life!"

Two P-47 fighter jets in the standard livery of the U.S. Army Air Forces flew very low. The Wittmann brothers who were so low to the ground could not only clearly distinguish the iconic "fat man" figure, but also clearly see this thing. The conspicuous white five-pointed stars on his wings.

What's worse is that the thing hanging under that damn fat man is actually kind of scary.

With three straw-colored iron bombs and a dense array of aviation rockets under the wings, these two flying fat men used the most blatant way to openly declare that they were absolutely untouchable to all things on the ground. Three times, five times and two times can easily defeat you with just a few clicks, so if possible, it is best not to provoke these two "American Sumo Wrestlers".

"Did you say they saw us? If they didn't, they probably didn't, right?"

Wegener, who was so nervous that his forehead began to sweat, couldn't help but speak, because there was obviously something fucking wrong with those two fat guys who could fly. Instead of passing through the field at a low altitude and flying over the trees, the aircraft lowered its speed to a very low level and then began to roll the fuselage and then circled at a low altitude, trying to find something with the good side view of the drop-shaped canopy. This scene was really... Wegener, who was already on tenterhooks, was frightened.

"If you just say a few more nonsense words, you will be seen. If you don't believe me, you can try it."

""

Wegener, who was left speechless by Wittmann, didn't know what to say. He could only keep his mouth shut, continued to sweat on his forehead, and prayed that the two fat Americans were really blind. Out of sight, I took a look at the battlefield ruins not far away from the woods and found nothing, and left helplessly.

But sometimes, the difference between what you think and what actually happens backfires.

Wegener, who was silently praying a second ago, did not expect that the terrifying tearing sound in the next second would break through the air without warning, under the roar of the aircraft engine.

Da da da da da da——

"Fucking machine gun fire! Fat American shit-eating guy!"