Eagle Sauce: The 055 destroyer was launched into the sea just after the founding of the country?

"Attention everyone, break into small groups of three to five."

Petrovich issued new orders.

“Use underground passages and inside buildings to move around and avoid being exposed in open areas.”

"Unless you are absolutely sure, do not attack the M1A1. Concentrate your firepower on enemy infantry and light armored vehicles."

The soldiers acted quickly according to the order.

The Soviet army has extensive experience in urban warfare, especially on historically significant battlefields like Stalingrad.

They are familiar with every street, every building, even every underground passage and sewer. This is their only remaining advantage.

Petrovich led a small team of elite soldiers through an underground passage and went around to the side and rear of several M1A1s.

They carried the few remaining anti-tank mines and modified Molotov cocktails, intending to slow down the enemy's attack through close-range sneak attacks.

“Remember,” Petrovich whispered to the soldiers around him, “Aim at the tracks and the rear engine compartment. Those are the relatively vulnerable parts.”

The soldiers nodded solemnly. They all knew this was an almost suicidal mission, but no one backed down.

In the Battle of Stalingrad, every Russian soldier was ready to sacrifice his life for the motherland.

They waited for the right moment.

When three M1A1 tanks passed through a relatively narrow intersection, Petrovich decisively gave the order to attack: "Action!"

Six soldiers immediately rushed out of the bunker and threw Molotov cocktails and anti-tank mines at the tank.

The Molotov cocktail hit the hood of the leading tank, and orange-red flames immediately surrounded the rear of the tank; two anti-tank mines were placed precisely in the path of the other two tanks.

However, the M1A1 once again demonstrated its extraordinary battlefield adaptability.

The tank hit by the Molotov cocktail activated its automatic fire extinguishing system and the fire was quickly brought under control.

The other two tanks keenly noticed the mine threat and quickly changed their routes to avoid it.

What's worse is that they reacted extremely quickly. Almost at the same time as the Russian soldiers launched the attack, the machine guns on the tanks started firing.

“Retreat! Retreat!” Petrovich yelled, but it was too late. Four of the six soldiers fell under the concentrated fire, and only Petrovich and another soldier managed to retreat to the bunker.

This failed sneak attack further undermined the morale of the Soviet army.

If such close-range attacks cannot effectively damage the enemy's tanks, what else can they do?

Time passed minute by minute, and the M1A1's iron hoof continued to penetrate deeper into the defense line of Stalingrad.

The Russian soldiers fought bravely, but casualties mounted at an alarming rate. Every attempt to stop the tank advance ended in heavy losses.

Petrovich once again hid in a makeshift command post - a semi-underground air-raid shelter, covered in blood and breathing rapidly.

His military uniform was torn to pieces by shrapnel and flames from Molotov cocktails, and there was a serious scratch on his left arm, but he didn't bother to bandage it.

“Connect me to headquarters!” he shouted to the signalman, his voice hoarse from fatigue and smoke. “I need to know where the reinforcements are!”

The signalman handed him a field telephone connected to a communication line that looked damaged in many places.

Petrovich grabbed the phone and shouted urgently.

"This is Captain Petrovich of the 126th Infantry Regiment of the Southern District!"

"Our situation is critical! The enemy's M1A1 tanks have broken through the third line of defense. We have suffered heavy casualties and urgently need support!"

Major General Popov's anxious voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Comrade Petrovich, hold on! Dragon Nation's reinforcements have arrived at the outskirts of the city, and they are deploying heavy equipment!"

"Comrade Major General, with all due respect," Petrovich practically shouted, "we've been hearing this news for two hours! And my soldiers are being slaughtered!"

“You said reinforcements from Dragon Nation have arrived, but where are their Type 99 tanks? Why haven’t we seen any?”

The line was filled with static, and Major General Popov's voice came and went.

"Pe...Rovich...Listen to me...The Dragon Nation...is not just bringing tanks...they're bringing...brand new..."

Just then, a huge explosion was heard from nearby, shaking the entire air-raid shelter, and rubble and dust fell from the ceiling.

The communication lines were severed by the artillery fire, and only noisy static filled the phone.

“Damn it!” Petrovich slammed the phone to the ground. “Comrade Major General was cut off mid-sentence! What on earth did Longguo bring?”

The signalman shook his head helplessly: "The line has been blown off, Comrade Captain. We are temporarily unable to contact headquarters."

Petrovich took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

The situation had become extremely critical. Their defenses were crumbling, their soldiers were exhausted, and their ammunition was running low.

The enemy's M1A1 tanks seemed never to tire, and their offensive pace did not slow down at all.

“Call all the remaining soldiers,” Petrovich finally decided. “We will concentrate all our firepower on a final counterattack.”

The deputy looked at him in surprise: "Comrade Captain, this is..."

"I know this sounds like a suicide mission," Petrovich interrupted, his voice low and firm, "but we have no choice."

"If we continue to passively take the beating like this, our people will only be wiped out one by one. At least if we unite together, we still have a glimmer of hope. Perhaps a miracle will happen."

The deputy was silent for a moment, then saluted: "As you command, Comrade Captain."

Soon, all the surviving Russian soldiers gathered together - there were only less than a company of people, each of them was injured and ragged, but their eyes were still firm.

They knew what they might be facing, but no one backed down.

Petrovich stood before the soldiers, looking around at his comrades who had gone through the same hellish ordeal with him.

"Comrades, you all know the situation. The enemy tanks have penetrated most of our defenses, and reinforcements have not yet arrived."

"I won't lie to you and say we have a chance of winning, but I believe that as soldiers of the Russian Bear, as defenders of Stalingrad, we have a responsibility to fight to the last moment!"

The soldiers nodded silently, with no fear on their faces, only a calm acceptance of their fate.

"We will penetrate Underpass No. 12 and flank the enemy tank formation. All remaining anti-tank weapons will be concentrated."

“Maybe we can’t stop them, but at least we’ll make them remember the resistance at Stalingrad!”

As Petrovich finished speaking, a strange buzzing sound suddenly came from the sky.

It wasn't the sound of tanks or artillery fire, nor was it the roar of a conventional fighter jet.

All the soldiers looked up at the sky unconsciously.

At first, they saw only a small black dot on the distant skyline.

But the black spot expanded rapidly, and soon they realized that it was not a single point, but a shadow composed of countless points, like a moving dark cloud, approaching Stalingrad at an alarming speed...