From their appearance to disappearance, the two German fighter planes remained in Lynn's line of sight for only a short five or six minutes. The sudden change not only caught him off guard but also caught the Soviet armored forces on the road by surprise. The two relatively ordinary-sized and powerful aerial bombs landed directly on the road, flipping over a T-34 and causing collateral damage to several surrounding Soviet tanks. Undoubtedly, the top of the Soviet tanks was the weakest point of their armor, and the machine guns on the German aircraft sprayed a barrage along the road, causing significant damage to at least seven or eight Soviet tanks. Smoke billowed and chaos ensued on the road momentarily, prompting even the stranded Soviet tank column to begin a slow retreat.
A minimal-scale airstrike had an immeasurable impact on the battle where German infantry was countering Soviet tanks. Lynn was still pondering how to maximize the effects of this impact, but Second Lieutenant Huzha had already provided an answer with a confident posture and a resounding command!
Upon hearing the attack order, "Butcher" was once again the first to scramble down the hill. Except for the two-man team operating the machine gun, the German infantrymen hesitated not and threw themselves into the attack. Lynn was deeply impressed by their decisive momentum. Due to a moment of hesitation, he found himself lagging behind once again, clumsily carrying his rifle and trailing behind the skirmish line. Yet, amidst the flurry of actions, Lynn couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. Wasn't it supposed to be fortunate to encounter such situations before?
Within the attacking force, there was no sight of Second Lieutenant Huzha. Lynn climbed up and ran forward, stealing a moment to glance back. He noticed that Second Lieutenant Huzha had already reached the anti-tank combat team, directing them in battle with both hands and voice. Witnessing this scene, Lynn suddenly realized: as a battlefield commander, one must seize critical points when unable to attend to every aspect!
After Second Lieutenant Huzha's adjustments, two groups of German infantry, armed with "Iron Fist" and "Tank Killer," advanced through the woods towards the first Soviet tank, while the remaining three anti-tank combat teams moved in the opposite direction to support their comrades engaged in the attack.
Since they had already launched the attack, Lynn dared not to distract himself too much, pushing through the snow with all his might. Attacking a heavily armored unit with fewer than two hundred infantrymen armed with ordinary rifles seemed akin to hitting a rock with an egg. Yet, numerous historical examples of the weak prevailing over the strong revealed a simple truth: the distinction between strength and weakness is relative. With the right timing, even the weaker side could turn the tide.
The woods were an ideal place to conceal the truth. German infantrymen charged forward, shouting, creating the illusion of an overwhelming number of enemies rushing toward the Soviets. This psychological advantage immediately unnerved the Soviet soldiers. At close range, the firepower of the Soviet tanks was severely limited, and the machine gun fire was greatly diminished by the dense trees. Just before breaking out of the woods, the German soldiers decisively threw several grenades, which posed no real threat to the Soviet tanks but significantly disrupted the visibility of the tank crews and accompanying infantry, intensifying their already frantic state of mind. Building on these preparatory actions, the German infantrymen bravely charged onto the road, using rifles and submachine guns to quickly dispatch those Soviet infantrymen who resisted or attempted to retreat. In this situation, the Soviet tanks, confined to limited movement, became sitting ducks, with some attempting to retreat only to collide with their comrades.
Killing sitting ducks might seem easy, but if all you have is a needle, dispatching a turtle with its head and limbs retracted into its shell becomes quite a challenge. Fortunately, among the German infantrymen were seasoned veterans with ample combat experience. They had endured the most brutal aspects of warfare, honing their resilience and acquiring corresponding combat skills. In their hands, a bottle of gasoline could immobilize a T-34, a hand grenade could provide an opportunity for internal cleaning of a tank, and there were other unconventional methods such as damaging tracks, blocking air vents, and attacking observation ports. In short, given enough time and space, they could systematically eliminate the Soviet tanks one by one!
Before he could break out of the woods, bullets fired from a Soviet tank in front of him forced Lynn to take cover behind a large tree. The bullets piercing through the tree trunk still sent shivers down his spine. Although he was less blindly submissive to intuition, Lynn still leaned against the back of the tree, breathing heavily. His right hand raised, left hand lowered, the Mauser rifle forming an angle greater than 60 degrees with the ground. When he felt the threat had passed, he cautiously and swiftly turned left to peek: the damn T-34 was slowly adjusting its direction through the movement of its tracks, the coaxial machine gun spewing vicious flames, and the coaxial machine gun on the left side of the frontal armor was roaring. Bullets just fired from the muzzle streaked through the air with an orange glow, threatening every German infantryman engaged in combat.
"Damn Russians!"
Lynn cursed vehemently in his mind as he recoiled, feeling several bullets whizz past him, barely missing his cheek by less than 20 centimeters. Even his slightly frozen facial muscles sensed the airflow disturbed by their passage. He felt an intense consciousness that stepping out now would turn him into Swiss cheese under the Soviet tank's machine gun fire!
Though he thought it might be due to fear, Lynn convinced himself to be cautious. He glanced to his right towards the rear of the Soviet tank column, realizing that the Soviet tanks and soldiers who hadn't been directly attacked by the German infantry were not idly standing by their trapped comrades. Unable to use their cannons effectively and hindered by the distance, some armored troops stood on the tank hulls or turrets, wielding submachine guns alongside accompanying infantry to shoot at the German infantrymen infiltrating their armored column. Even though they were hundreds of meters apart and obstructed by tanks, their attacks did not immediately inflict significant casualties. Nevertheless, it was foreseeable that, as time passed, the German side, vastly outnumbered and outgunned, would soon fall back into a defensive position. Hence, seizing the right moment for both offense and retreat became crucial.
Turning his head left, Lynn saw Second Lieutenant Huzha hurrying towards him with a crouched posture. Realizing his current capabilities were insufficient to assist the commander in accurately choosing the right timing, Lynn adjusted his rifle sights to 100 meters, took a deep breath, and swiftly turned 90 degrees to the right, bringing the rifle parallel to the ground, aligning the sights with a distant figure crouching on the tank turret. Holding his breath and exerting pressure, in just one-sixth of a second, that person directly fell from the turret as if pushed.
With his left hand supporting the rifle downwards, the butt still against his chest and shoulder, Lynn quickly worked the bolt to eject and chamber another round, then lifted the rifle with his left hand, aiming once again at the same figure on the side of the tank turret. The Soviet soldier, undeterred by his companion's fate, continued to focus on his target, his "Shpagin" trembling every two seconds, emitting a faint white smoke as the bullets exited the barrel.
The guy was mercilessly gunning down his comrades at the moment. With this in mind, Lynn slightly raised his sights, held his breath, and exerted force. It was still a split second, and suddenly a small burst of blood sprayed from the front of the Soviet 1940-style steel helmet on the man's head—this immediately reminded Lynn of the scenes of special forces training shooting with watermelons on TV.
Two soldiers in a row were hit, and the surrounding Soviet infantry finally became alert. However, it was not easy to identify the enemy shooter in the extremely complex battlefield. This time, Lynn finally moved sideways a little, using the shadow of the tree trunk to cover part of his body, and completed the necessary process of firing the bolt-action rifle again in a coherent manner. If it were the M1 semi-automatic rifle of the US military, with this effort, he might have fired all eight rounds, and even if he couldn't guarantee that every shot hit, at Lynn's current level, he could probably take out three or four targets. However, Lynn didn't complain at all about this. The bolt-action rifle naturally had its unparalleled texture and feel. More importantly, Lynn was originally a young man who loved military affairs. However, due to well-known restrictions, he had only touched a rifle twice during university military training over the past twenty-one years. Every time he saw foreign military enthusiasts indulging themselves at the shooting range, he thought to himself that if he could have a gun, even if it was the oldest single-shot rifle, it would be fine. Now that his wish had finally come true, how could he despise the inconsistency of firing the Mauser 98k?
The brass cartridge cases, still warm, rolled vertically and silently from the height of an adult's head, falling onto the snowy ground without a sound. Lynn took a half step to the left, aimed the rifle, and easily found another reckless guy on the turret of another Soviet tank. He was wearing the round leather cap of a Soviet tank soldier, with only his upper body exposed outside the hatch, holding the "Shpagin" with the muzzle sweeping without aiming.
As an ordinary infantryman, being able to directly take down an enemy tank commander was something Lynn wouldn't have dared to imagine half an hour ago. But now the opportunity was right in front of him, and whether he could seize it depended entirely on his own abilities. This was the simplest rule of the battlefield!