Cannon Fire Arc-Chapter 695 - 33 The War of Attrition

Chapter 695: Chapter 33 The War of Attrition

July 2nd, 1916, Prosen Anpura Armored Division First Armored Battalion.

The battalion commander checked his watch and sighed, “Let’s not wait for the Leopard Tanks any longer; we will go ourselves.”

Having said that, he jumped onto the command tank of the battalion headquarters and waved back to the other support vehicles of the headquarters: “Wait for our signal after we repel the Ante Troops, and then follow up.”

“Yes, commander,” the deputy battalion commander saluted, “I wish you a pleasant hunt.”

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The commander nodded and looked back ahead, placing the headset on one ear, and picked up the radio handset: “Attention all units, this is your commander, attack commences!”

————

Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group.

The group leader addressed the assembled tank commanders in a loud voice: “Thanks to the efforts of the support battalion last night, we’ve restored the number of tanks ready for combat to 10, and two with broken tracks are being urgently repaired; they’re expected to join us midway!”

In yesterday’s massive tank battle, the Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group had only two tanks damaged by enemy tank operators using magnetically-adhered anti-tank mines.

The rest of the losses were due to broken tracks, jammed turret rings, and mechanical failures.

Mechanical issues were the most numerous, after all, yesterday the Guard One Group made such a long advance, and even a normal cross-country march would have several breakdowns.

After all, the Rokossovsky Type tank is a heavy tank, weighing over forty tons empty, and with ammunition, fuel, and the assorted items each tank crew brought, the combat weight exceeded fifty tons. Such heavy machines are prone to breaking down off-road.

Group Leader: “Although we only have ten tanks left, there’s good news. The 60th Tank Brigade has rushed to join us, with 40 intact T34Ws and the infantry troops that cooperate with them in combat.

“They will be advancing with us! Now, return to your respective tanks and make final preparations! Dismissed!”

The tank commanders saluted together and then turned around, walking towards their tanks in pairs or groups of three.

As Podoliskov lowered his head to walk, Alex, the commander of Tank 276, patted his shoulder: “Hey, I hear your crew did well in combat yesterday?”

“Not bad. Three of the tanks were taken out by tube-launched missiles from infantry on top of our tank,” Podoliskov laughed. “I don’t even know whose victory to count it as; it wasn’t really our gun’s work, but the infantry doesn’t have a custom of marking their kills.”

Alex: “Isn’t there a saying that a sniper marks an Iron Cross on their rifle stock for each enemy killed?”

“That’s snipers. A sniper’s rifle stays with them; after all, different guns have slight variances in their trajectories. They can’t adapt to a new rifle after using another. But for infantry, the tube used is disposable after shooting.”

Podoliskov shook his head and said, “There should be a new medal to honor infantry who destroy tanks alone. It seems the Prosens have such a patch.”

Alex nodded, “True, I’ve seen it on the sleeves of some dead Prosenian soldiers. Especially those carrying ‘funnels’ and charging at our tanks, they usually have this.”

“I saw a few before my last tank was destroyed.”

Most of the tank operators in the Guard Heavy Breakthrough Tank Group were veterans transferred from other tank units; most had lost comrades in previous battles, and the commanders had ample experience in bidding farewell to subordinates.

Podoliskov idly asked, “How many people did you have left on your last tank?”

“Two, one loader, and myself.”

“Both in the turret survived?”

“Yeah, and before we abandoned the tank, we managed to destroy the Panzer IV that hit us. Right after firing the shot, the engine caught fire, and we had to leave the tank,” Alex burst into laughter, “But now it’s different. The Prosens can’t do anything to our armor! Thanks to General Rocossov for the weapons!”

Podoliskov: “Only if my brother could be in a Rokossovsky Type, his crew are all brave lads! Their tactics are even better than ours!”

“You can shoot as well as your brother!” As Alex spoke, his tank arrived, and he stopped to nod at Podoliskov, “Drive your Revenge and push all the way to Plowsoniania! Let your brother also see what the enemy capital looks like when it falls!”

Podoliskov nodded: “As long as I’m still alive then, I definitely will!”

“Don’t talk like that!” Alex yelled.

But Podoliskov turned around and headed toward his own tank nearby (both of their tanks were parked together).

Driver Ivan, seeing Podoliskov coming over, stood up: “I’ve properly lubricated all the parts, this guy is in great shape, surely it can run another hundred kilometers today!”

Podoliskov smiled, “A hundred kilometers? Do you know if we run another hundred kilometers we will meet up with ‘Clamp’ on the other side?”

“That would be great!” Ivan laughed heartily, “Then we’ve surrounded another few hundred thousand of the enemy again!”

Podoliskov: “Alright, let’s get moving! The enemy will certainly counterattack today, and we will charge at them along with our allies’ T34Ws.”

The gunner, who had been sitting on the grass eating his meal beside the tank, stuffed the remaining bread into his mouth in three bites, his cheeks bulging and working as he stood up.

“Finish your meal first!” said Podoliskov, “So you don’t drop bread crumbs in the tank and cause a malfunction.”

Gunner: “Prosen-made machines might halt because of a bread crumb since their machinery is delicate, but ours aren’t that finicky, right?”

In fact, the gunner spoke as if talking to the driver but appeared to be addressing the tank, Revenge.

The loader sitting on top of the tank turret called out with a grin: “A hero’s machine won’t go on strike!”

Podoliskov was about to reply when, in the distance, a signal flare shot up into the dawn sky, making it especially conspicuous.

Everyone was momentarily stunned by the sight of the flare, but Podoliskov reacted the fastest, “It’s the recon troops, they’ve encountered the enemy! Get in the vehicles! Those of you doing maintenance, move it! Your maintenance vehicles are more precious than our tanks, hurry up, go!”

The maintenance vehicles were imports from the Federation, and since Ante’s production capacity was fully utilized for tank manufacturing, barely any maintenance vehicles were being produced, which is why Podoliskov said what he did.

The maintenance camp personnel didn’t dilly-dally either, they swiftly jumped into the maintenance vehicles, turned around, and sped off. The technician who had just helped inspect the engine of the Revenge shouted back, “Good luck to you! Kill more Prosens!”

Podoliskov waved his hand, climbed onto the tank, and shoved the loader who was climbing into the hatch, “Hurry up!”

“Don’t push, commander! I bumped my head!”

A Jeep then drove up, and the infantry that had been aboard the Revenge the day before jumped out, “Commander, we’ve got nine more canisters!”

Podoliskov said, “Great! Climb on up, we’re about to move out!”

By then, Tank 267 next to them had already started its engine, which roared as it began to move forward.

Podoliskov climbed into the tank, stood in his position, confirmed that the driver had also gotten into the driver’s compartment up front, then patted the top of the turret, “Start the tank!”

The tank engine thundered, and black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe.

Seeing this, the infantrymen adeptly climbed onto the tank, grabbing onto the handles on the edges, and took out their canisters, ready for combat.

The driver’s voice, Ivan, came through the headset, “Hold on tight!”

“We’re secured, let’s go.”

So the Revenge spewed black smoke as it trampled over the grass in front—the very grass that had been flattened by the tracks only the day before, only to stand erect again overnight.

Podoliskov picked up his binoculars and saw the Willys Jeep of the recon troops speeding wildly through the prairie.

“They seem to be having quite the ride,” Podoliskov muttered.

The Master Sergeant of the infantry behind the turret said, “Truth be told, the recon troops always suffer high casualties; the Jeeps can’t always rely on their mobility to dodge enemy fire. Although, it’s indeed hard to hit something that’s racing across the prairie.”

Podoliskov said, “It’s more reassuring to have armor, but pity that with armor we can’t move that fast. It’s really a tough choice.”

“Maybe one day there will be a tank that’s armored and can still go that fast!” the Master Sergeant said.

“Forget it, how could such a tank ever exist!” Podoliskov shook his head, “If such a tank did exist, it would surely phase out all the heavy and medium tanks, the army would only need to be equipped with that type.”

As he finished speaking, the recon troop’s Jeep had already arrived close by, with the reconnoitre soldiers operating the machine gun on it shouting to the Revenge, “Roughly a battalion of the enemy, a battalion! They have significant force! Be careful!”

Podoliskov only managed to wave his hand when the Jeep sped past in a puff of smoke, leaving him to only see the dust trailing behind.

Podoliskov picked up the intercom, “Recon troops report an enemy battalion, close to a hundred tanks, repeat, an enemy battalion of close to a hundred tanks!”

The battalion commander’s curses immediately came through the radio, “Damn it, including our brother unit’s T34Ws, we only have fifty tanks!”

“We know they can’t penetrate our armor,” a confident tank commander said, “Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

“Dust in front!”

Podoliskov saw it too, gray dust rising up in the direction of the horizon like a sandstorm—huh, where had he heard that term before?

He shook his head, cleared the distracting thoughts, and raised his binoculars to search for the first target.

“Turret, turn five degrees to the left, we should be able to see the first target!” He issued the first combat command of the day.

A day of intense artillery combat was about to begin.

————

12 hours later.

Podoliskov finally heard an order from the deputy commander come through his headphones, “All tanks, stop and set up camp on the spot, wait for the maintenance camp to come forward.”

He immediately gave the order, “Alright, Ivan, stop the vehicle!”

The tank screeched to a halt, the engine grumbling robustly.

Ivan, while emerging from the driver’s cabin, cursed, “This sound is a clear sign of big trouble; I need to check it thoroughly. It’s very likely that once the maintenance camp arrives, we’ll need to replace the engine.”

Podoliskov said, “It’s up to you.”

After saying that, he took off his headphones, tossed them along with the intercom on top of the turret, and turned to look behind the turret.

The engine grille was empty, with blood and bits of flesh scattered everywhere.

“Sukabule!” Podoliskov swore.