Steel Soviet Union

Major Baker, who was called by the darkness, turned his head subconsciously, but what came to him was a fist that was getting bigger and bigger, and it hit him in the face in an instant.

Bang——

"Ugh——"

It was a very wonderful experience to be thrown backwards instantly. The whole face was in great pain, but the feeling of being in a state of ecstasy could not be described in words. Although Major Baker was not particularly tall, he was more than 1.7 meters and nearly 1.8 meters tall. This was the first time in his life that he experienced this feeling that he should not have had the opportunity to experience.

Sour, spicy, sweet, fishy, ​​salty

Major Baker, whose whole taste was like a spice shop, lay on his back on the ground. For a moment, he felt dizzy and couldn't even lift his head, but at the same time, his right arm reached out to touch the pistol at his waist driven by his will.

There were more than one figure hiding in the darkness. Major Baker, who struggled to get up and took out his gun, did not notice that the figure who rushed out from the bridge pier not far away had already raised his weapon.

Dada Dada——

"Ah——"

The old saying that the fingers are connected to the heart is not without basis. Major Baker, whose entire right arm was instantly shot into a sieve by the extremely fast-firing PPSh submachine gun, immediately let out a scream of grief that was not like a human scream. The two fingers on his right hand and the entire arm bone were smashed on the spot in the blood splatter.

"Say goodbye to your right hand, Hitler's running dog!"

"Ah! Hand, my hand!"

The gunman who rushed out of the darkness did not seem to know how to show mercy. He stepped on the wound of the broken finger with a size 47 oversized winter military boot, and pressed his palm hard on the sole of his foot to crush and trample it hard. The huge pain caused by the trampling was far beyond the scope of what ordinary people could understand.

Major Baker, who was awakened by the intense pain in a flash, suddenly remembered that the veteran Fritz who was traveling with him was not far away.

With a strong hope in his eyes, he quickly found the figure that was placed with hope according to the impression in his memory, but the feeling that this only hope was crushed into powder in an instant was really not very good.

"Huh, is this all you can do? I thought these Germans were so powerful, but they are just like this."

I don't know when this happened.

A sharp bayonet was stuck in the middle of Fritz's neck, who was stepped on by a big foot on the chest. The sharp edge of the bayonet root that failed to completely penetrate the flesh was illuminated by the faint moonlight, just accurately corresponding to Major Baker's perspective and reflecting a chilling cold light.

Fritz, who was destined to die soon, covered the knife wound on his neck with both hands, and seemed to be trying desperately to stop the rush of blood, and to pull out the bayonet that took his life, but the rapidly losing physical strength and vitality made all this futile.

Under normal circumstances, it would be almost impossible for either Seryosha or Kirill to win in a one-on-one close combat against Fritz.

As veterans who have struggled to crawl out of the pile of dead bodies and the sea of ​​blood, Fritz, who specializes in infantry, has close combat skills far superior to Seryosha and Kirill. It is not surprising that the elite who stay in the tank all day cannot beat the veteran who fights for his life with his flesh and blood.

Time goes back to more than ten seconds ago. Seryosha was the first to rush out of the shadows. He strode up his right leg and kicked the MP40 submachine gun on the ground. Fritz, whose fingertips had already touched the cold gun body, lost his last hope just because of the inconspicuous detail that he threw the weapon aside in extreme panic.

Kirill, who had a clear division of labor, flashed out from the other direction. With a little fear of not disappointing the trust of the commander and killing someone for the first time, he was so nervous that his body was trembling, but he just relied on his recklessness to hug Fritz from behind and thrust his bayonet into his neck before the other party could react.

"No need to shoot again, this German will die in less than half a minute. This is the enemy you killed, Kirill, congratulations."

It was not the first time that Seryosha used a self-defense weapon to kill the enemy. He held up the PPSh submachine gun in his hand but did not fire. Instead, he congratulated Kirill, who was sitting on the ground, in a half-joking tone.

It was the first time to kill someone with his own hands, and he killed the enemy with such a bloody and hand-to-hand cold weapon assassination method.

No matter how evil the Nazi fascists in memory and subjective cognition were, lying on his back in front of Kirill, with only the last gasping and struggling life of exhaling but no inhaling, he was still a living person.

Kirill, whose visual impact and existing cognition were both strongly shocked, breathed hard. For a moment, he didn't even know how to evaluate what he had just done. The feeling of killing a living person for the first time was far more turbulent than the understatement of his comrades.

"Hey, Seryosha, at least take care of Kirill, I think he's about to pee his pants."

Iushkin, who witnessed all this not far away, turned his head and shouted, while using his right foot to push the object under his foot further into the snow. Major Beck, who was grinning in pain, then screamed like a pig being slaughtered.

"Oh, oh, oh, I almost forgot that there is a running dog raised by Hitler here. Now hand over your dog teeth to me honestly."

Seeing the hateful Russian who stepped on his severely injured right hand reaching for the gun on his waist with the intention of disarming him, Major Baker, driven by resentment and will, temporarily forgot about the pain and forcefully waved his left arm, already from behind. The bayonet pulled out from his waist used a not-so-standard tactical movement and stabbed straight into the opponent's chest, which was very close at hand.

Click——

Pfft——

"ah!!!"

In his early years, Iushkin relied on his outstanding performance in the infantry division. After being favored by his superiors, he was recommended to the tank corps school for further study. He was finally able to graduate with excellent results and join the Red Army tank force. This was Iushkin's last career. Something that I feel proud of and like to show off to people I know well.

Years spent as a gunner with the tank's main gun all year round did not make Iushkin forget his original ability to make a fortune. At the beginning of the year, he was doing wrestling in his spare time and even knocked down Comrade Malashenko, the commander of the regiment. Iushkin Jin relied on his quick eyes and quick hands and his precise power to pinpoint the vital points to win in the end.

It's just that the precise force that can knock Malashenko, who is more than 1.9 meters tall, over his shoulder and knocks him down, is not as simple as a pain or two on Fasis's mortal enemy with a blood feud.

"That broken knife of yours can slap even a one-year-old bear back! In the Soviet Union, you are only meant to be played with! German!"