The last child standing seemed incapable of grasping the concept of death. He blankly stared at his fallen family members, then at the still-smoking barrel of Prosen's sergeant's submachine gun.
The sergeant went up to the boy and kicked him over with one foot, then with another foot, snapped his delicate neck.
Wang Zhong was shocked by this bloody scene and snapped back to clarity.
The village wasn't even occupied yet, and these beasts had begun to massacre! What they intended to do after taking over the village was unimaginable!
No! Wang Zhong forcibly shook his head, trying hard to stay alert.
Because he knew that if there was any chance to turn the tables now, it could only be his own "cheat".
He had to make full use of the cheat to destroy the enemy's remaining four tanks.
He looked over at the last tank in the distillery, the tactical number 422 T28 multi-turret tank.
This thinly-armored behemoth couldn't possibly withstand the enemy head-on. He needed to find a way to get to their side, or even behind them! He had to utilize the "Golden Finger" of the overhead view!
Wang Zhong pulled his view to the farthest, overlooking the entire battlefield.
He noticed something: the smoke from the enemy's mortar fire hadn't dispersed yet, so the tanks behind the enemy couldn't see the situation in the village.
In other words, if he left the village now and took a wide detour outside the village, the enemy's following tanks wouldn't be able to see it.
Give such an order to the 422 crew?
Considering the recent performance of the tank troops, the training and combat experience of the Ante Army's armored forces were questionable...
The rank-and-file soldiers were indeed courageous, but that was all they had.
Most importantly, they didn't have the overhead view and had no idea of the enemy's position!
To use this last tank to wipe out the enemy's four tanks, there was only one way:
I have to personally command this tank!
The moment this thought arose, Wang Zhong switched back to the normal view.
His heart was pounding fiercely for the first time, making Wang Zhong truly understand what it meant to feel one's "heart nearly bursting out of the chest." The flood of adrenaline that was secreted made him, who had been weak and listless, spring to his feet.
Sofya standing next to him with a handkerchief was stunned.
As soon as Wang Zhong saw her, he grabbed her shoulders and stared at her intensely.
"Uh... I'll wipe the sweat for you, after all, I'm just a Hymn Monk, all I can do is..."
Wang Zhong, "As long as I am alive, you won't be captured! Absolutely not!"
Indeed, if he gave up, not only would his soldiers die in battle and the civilians in the village be slaughtered, but these lovely girls would also face the enemy's abuse!
How could he give up?
Wang Zhong's feverish brain now had only one thought: Screw those Prosen bastards and to hell with them!
Sofya was still confused, "Uh, you might be mistaking me for someone else... I am not Miss Ludmila..."
Wang Zhong left her behind, striding out with purpose.
At this moment, his head was as heavy as a balloon-headed doll, but he still walked with brisk steps fueled by the adrenaline rush.
Rushing out of the main workshop of the distillery, Wang Zhong immediately spotted the 422 vehicle.
Parked safely within the walls of the distillery, not even a single bullet had gone past it, but the tank's turret hatch was shut tight.
Wang Zhong felt an upsurge of anger. He seemed to forget he was running a high fever, stormed up to the tank, and banged on the hatch: "Open the hatch! You bastard, I'll throw a Molotov cocktail if you don't open up!"
The commander of the 422, a corporal with whom Wang Zhong had a brief acquaintance, opened the hatch and popped his head out: "Don't throw!"
Wang Zhong, "Everyone else is fighting in blood, and you're acting like a coward here as a reserve!"
"I... I..."
Wang Zhong pulled off his headset and microphone in one go: "Get out!"
"Eh?"
Wang Zhong, "I said get out!"
The corporal hesitated for a moment, "Will I be shot? Deserters are to be executed!"
Wang Zhong, "You'll be shot if you don't get out, now get out!"
The corporal clambered out shakily but still stood by the turret, unwilling to leave: "I'm not deserting, it was you, Count, who ordered me out..."
Wang Zhong kicked him off and climbed into the turret himself, putting on the headset.
The corporal lying on the ground called out, "Here's your tank helmet..."
Wang Zhong couldn't be bothered with him. His brain simply didn't have the capacity to consider too much right now, like how being inside the turret increased the chances of survival, or how without a tank helmet, one would be bruised from knocking against the turret. He hadn't thought about any of these things.
All that he was focused on now was commanding the tank, pulling off a beautiful flanking action to break the enemy's assault.
After putting on the headset, he realized he could hardly hear anything because of the ringing in his ears.
It was said that early Soviet tank equipment was quite backward, forcing the commander to use a wrench to knock signals for orders. He could only hope that this tank was somewhat more advanced.
Wang Zhong slammed the headset a few times, then his head. The ringing in his ears got even worse.
After all, he had a high fever and a rush of adrenaline. A little ringing was the least of his issues.
Wang Zhong didn't care anymore and shouted, "Rather than this ringing, give me some battle music!"
Perhaps it was psychological, but the ringing in his ears seemed to take on the rhythms of music.
However, Wang Zhong was too dazed to discern the song.
He didn't care and gave the order directly: "Move forward! Head out the gate!"
The wreckage of Captain Lubokov's vehicle provided some cover just outside the gate.
Wang Zhong's command was executed. The engine of the tank roared, slowly starting to move forward.
The soldiers at the gate hurriedly opened it.