Chapter 833: Smolensk Street Fight

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Zhukov is not very clear whether he can become a hero of the Soviet Union. Just like Soviet soldiers defending in Smolensk, I wonder if I can see the sun of tomorrow.
The teacher who had just been drafted into the army was holding his rifle at the moment, leaning against a broken and collapsed low wall. Beside him, there was a pool of vomit that had frozen into a paste and looked very sick. The teacher also had the same dirty things on his shirt and on his sleeves, depending on the situation, he should have spit out these things.
Just now, he saw a Soviet soldier hit his head with a stray bullet. The entire helmet was cut by shrapnel. There was a paste in his head, and he could hardly see the internal structure. The fallen Soviet soldier had just kept talking to him, and it took less than a second to turn a living person into a broken corpse under his feet.
Even the shouts did not have time to come out, and even a goodbye did not have time to say, a fresh life ended so humblely, no one even asked the corpse, just let the corpses pile up in the corner, Turned into a piece of frozen meat blown hard by the cold wind.
But as a teacher who was teaching the children more than ten days ago, he saw a man shattered his head by shrapnel in front of him. Spilled blood and brain plasma sprayed on his face, with a trace of Warm breath. This feeling appeared repeatedly in his heart, making him feel that his stomach was turning upside down.
He was a teacher of literature more than ten days ago, and he became a soldier who fought bravely for the motherland more than ten days later. Looking at the Mosinagan rifle in his hand, and seeing the mottled blood stains on it, he felt that what he had just eaten started tossing again. He swallowed, and then forced his eyes away from his vomit and blood.
Why is a soldier recruited from the symptom to rigorous training, and finally stepped on the battlefield, is still just a recruit? Because it must pass the test of life and death, and must be used to killing and cruelty, in order to truly transform into a veteran who dares to kill, no longer afraid. This process cannot be tricky, or at least it cannot be transitioned by too tricky.
For example, in Japan, in order to adapt the soldiers to killing, they used the Chinese military and civilians as targets to practice the assassination techniques of the troops. It can be said that this method can replace part of the effectiveness of actual combat, but it cannot completely replace the role of actual combat.
Because on the real battlefield, the continuous shooting of the cannon with a machine gun creates a more chaotic environment, and the enemies killed by soldiers firing are more morally reasonable, so it is not easy to produce a serious psychological burden. Therefore, although the Japanese's method can make up for the shortcomings of actual combat, it will make people become monsters that have lost their morality and rationality. It is an inhumane means that is rejected by all humans.
Let's not mention the shameless behavior over there in Japan. After all, there is a lot of taste in the book. The Smolensk people ’s teacher here has been squatting in the trenches for two days, but he still has not seen a fierce evil, and heard of the German SS who eats Russian civilians raw.
Not to mention the terrible existence of the SS, he had not even seen a serious German Wehrmacht. On several occasions, several domes of steel helmets could be seen in the trenches far away, far away. There is no way to hit such a small target in distance.
And every time they fired, they would attract a wide range of shelling, as well as enemy machine gun bullets. A German weapon called the mg42 machine gun is simply a perverted existence. It can be used with an optical sight to shoot at a very long distance, and the rate of fire is very scary.
This kind of weapon can easily hit Soviet soldiers and force groups of Soviet soldiers back to their starting position. He once saw several comrades knocked down by German machine guns, but because of the distance, he didn't enjoy the feeling that blood was sprayed on his face at close range today.
He wiped his mouth and carefully leaned his head out of the low wall to look at the German positions on the opposite side. Because he had been teaching in this city, he did n’t even know why the friendly German army would come over, or why the Germans who lost the last war would become so powerful. He could only carefully observe the situation on the opposite side with his eyes, observing that he had not even really seen the enemy at a glance.
He is a teacher in the school, and he is the boss who speaks the law in the class. The students are afraid of him and respect him. What he said is like a decree in the entire classroom. But now the situation has changed. Bullets are the real boss on this battlefield. All the people who try to stop the bullets from flying have become cold bodies.
He had never killed anyone, and he didn't even dare to see his comrades who died beside him. There was no illusion in his life that he would come to the front line one day. He just learned how to use his rifle yesterday.
Retracting his head and moving his body a little from the already cold body, he leaned against the low wall again, allowing the cold wind to blow over his cheeks. He wrapped his army coat tightly. This was the only clothing he could keep out of the cold. Although there were vomiting residues on it, it was better than freezing.
Suddenly, he remembered his hobbies in school, so he leaned against the wall softly with rhyming words and began to sing a rhythmic poem. This is the way he used to resolve the emotions in his heart, and it is also a pastime he likes very much:
"Trenches in the snow,
Is the dependence of life;
A wide and beautiful avenue,
Set up an icy artillery.
Crying without children,
Prayer without angels;
Some are just corpses,
And the roar of bombs. "
While he was singing happily, another round of German artillery began. This time it was not just a heartbreaking artillery bombardment, but also accompanied by dense gunfire. Several Soviet soldiers ran across the low wall with their weapons. They held their steel helmets and used scattered footsteps to avoid the scattered rubble on the ground.
"The Germans attacked! The Germans attacked!" A Soviet soldier yelled loudly as he ran. This sentence made everyone hesitate. They couldn't believe that after a long preparation, the German offensive had just begun without warning.
Did the German attack? Leaning against the corner of the wall, the Soviet teacher who seemed to have been forgotten raised his head and wanted to pop his head to take a look at the German soldiers who were described as fierce. But before he could raise his head to satisfy his curiosity, a bullet hit the standing soldier beside him.
The huge inertia caused the soldier to fall directly to the ground, and blood oozed from his chest, staining the nearby ground. He wailed, screamed, and struggled constantly on the ground, trying to move his already heavy body.
The Soviet teacher wanted to reach out to help, dragging the wounded man back to the low wall where he was hiding, but he hesitated to struggle, and finally did not have the courage to risk being hit and dragged his comrades back to safety The place. After all, even in the rain of guns and bullets, it takes courage to stretch out a hand.
Soon, he didn't have to struggle, because the wounded who was close to him stopped his activities, and closed his mouth because of excessive bleeding, no longer making hysterical shouts. This made the tortured teacher very comfortable, and began to study his own rifle.
He had just learned to shoot, but he had n’t hit a bullet before. He heard the screams of the Soviets in front of him and the saw-like sound of enemy machine guns. I don't know whether it was due to excessive secretion of adrenaline or some other reason. He picked up his rifle, pulled off the bolt, and slowly pushed a bullet into the barrel.
He loaded his rifle bullets while whispering a poem he wrote, and then plucked his head out of the corner bit by bit to observe the scene on the battlefield:
"Curl yourself,
Avoid the burning of fire;
Hold the rifle tightly,
Proud to maintain honor. "
He saw several Soviet soldiers being driven out of the trenches by a German tank. They ran wildly backwards and were swept to the ground by a machine gun with a tongue of fire on the tank body. He saw some German soldiers in white blouses jump into the trenches of the Soviets and occupy a position after the Soviets.
"Damn bastards! Get out of our city! Get out of our territory! Didn't your teacher educate you? The aggressor didn't end well!" The teacher muttered while aiming with his rifle. A soldier he had never seen in uniform.
His finger pulled the trigger, and a huge impact force raised his rifle high, because he had never used the weapon in his hand. This was the first time he really felt the huge recoil hit. What kind of feeling is on the shoulder.
The pain in his shoulder reminded him of his environment a little, and the fear finally returned to his body. He felt his legs tremble, and because the rifle hadn't held up just now, the bullet he shot did not hit any target at all.
He had to pick up his Mossinagan rifle, pull off his bolt again, and then load the bullet again. A Soviet soldier ran past the low wall beside him, and seemed to be the only friendly luckily survivor on this position. After escaping from the low wall, the Soviet soldier jumped into the crater not far away with a sliding shovel, and then climbed up the edge with his helmet, and fled towards another street.