Canteen System Assistance Notes

His own unit was strafed by several German biplanes, suffering heavy losses and being scattered. Andrei himself was wounded and separated from the others. If he had not taken refuge in the ruins of a village and been "captured" by a ten-year-old child, he would have died under German gunfire.

Now, if I waited until I could walk back and then organize an offensive to eliminate this observation point, how long would that delay? During this time, the Nazis would fire more shells at the defenses of Leningrad, killing more comrades, colleagues, and citizens.

Oh, and that Nazi tank called the StuG III only had a crew of four, right?

Captain Andrei had lost his tank identification manual and could only rely on memory. However, although his memory was not clear, he had seen the KV tanks at the Kirov factory in the city: such a large heavy tank, but it only had a crew of five. The Panzer III assault gun was much smaller than the KV tank, so it was unlikely that the crew was larger.

If I could knock out a few people from a distance...

"Nina Dashi,"

Andrei Sokolov said, "You are the coach of the shooting club. I would like to ask if you are confident enough to shoot at the target at dawn."

Chapter 550: Human War (Part 2) You Must Be Brave

The night is the footprint of the sunset, the prelude to the sunrise, and the secret cloak of the stalker.

Three adults and a teenage child were walking near the tree line in the dark. The winter nights in Leningrad were long and extremely cold.

Even if some people dress as warmly as possible and eat as much as possible, they still can

I felt the cold air seeping through every gap in my clothes, making me shiver.

Leningrad was even considered one of the warmer cities in the northern part of the Soviet Union.

Three kilometers was a short distance. Normally, even for the youngest, Vanya, it would only take about ten minutes. But it took the four of them nearly an hour to walk from Clevigne to Unomore.

"It's half past nine in the morning,"

Glancing at the only watch in the team, sniper Nina Pavlovna Petrova breathed a sigh of relief. She took the Mosin-Nagant rifle off her back and tucked the bolt under her armpit. "The sun won't rise for about another hour."

"The assault gun is over there, broken down on the dirt road in the village." She pointed at the shattered silhouette of the village in the half-moonlight in the sky. "The German campfire is right next to the car, but it's cold now, so they must be hiding in the house."

"So, the Cossack boy and I will sneak in from the outskirts of the village. Comrade Yermakov, you listen to me. I open fire, and you fire back."

"Okay, Comrade Captain." The energetic young Cossack Yermakov nodded and fixed the "turtle fist" behind his back.

This Turtle Fist was given to him by the captain. It had no Laval nozzle, wooden insulation pad, or electric firing mechanism. It only had a hammer-type firing mechanism modified from a Nagant revolver and a homemade insulation sleeve wrapped with dirty cloth strips. There were also two circles of black stripes painted on the end of the steel tube - this meant that this disposable launch tube had been reassembled twice at the Kirov Factory in Leningrad.

He handed two German wooden-handled grenades from his belt to Captain Andrei Sokolov. He checked his submachine gun, confirming the bolt wasn't frozen and the magazines were inserted into the magazine holder. "I fought with Sergeant Nina in the rear, using German weapons. As long as you don't make a mistake, that's all."

You're a young man, I can recognize you at a glance. I'm sure you won't be shot." The captain also packed up his Red October submachine gun and continued to assign tasks. "Sergeant Nina, please don't enter the village. Please support us with long-range firepower outside the village."

"What about me?" Vanya, who was not yet 18 years old, raised his hand to ask. He was holding a German Mauser rifle, like a little adult. "Comrade Captain, I need

do what?"

"you....…"

Looking at Vanya's eyes emerging from his cotton hat, Captain Andrei was touched by the moonlight reflected on his pupils - this underage seventh-grade student has now become a guerrilla fighter, and he shouldn't have been like this.

Andrei touched a paper tube hidden in his inner pocket, hardened his heart, and said: "Comrade Vanya, please protect Sergeant Nina and reload her bullets.

Be alert to the enemy.

"If we all fail, please take Sergeant Nina and retreat to the Leningrad defense line. Comrade Vanya, you are the most familiar with the surrounding roads among us. As long as we keep going north, keep going north as hard as we can, we will definitely succeed... If we fail...

"No, you must be brave."

He ignored Nina Pavlovna Petrova's angry look and gave the order: "We will move in half an hour at dawn - now, everyone stretch your hands and feet and don't get frozen."

The nights in Leningrad in December were long. Even when the sun rose, it hung low above the horizon, like a fat duck unable to take flight. When the sun's apex shone a little in the east, Captain Andrei and the Cossack corporal successfully reached the eastern edge of Unomol village.

It's a small village, but it's densely packed with houses. Almost all of the houses were destroyed by artillery fire, but they weren't completely razed to the ground by Soviet and German shells. To withstand the harsh winters, the wooden and brick walls were incredibly thick, even featuring double insulation. Even a 152mm howitzer would struggle to completely destroy them.

Therefore, privates and captains have a lot of cover to borrow.

They searched slowly forward, like bears approaching a prey—the Panzer III assault gun had a low profile, but under the rising sun behind it and the moon high in the sky, its edges looked sharp and bright, as if a painter had outlined a white edge and then sprinkled it with gold powder. Soon, the captain could see the gray and white short-barreled armored vehicle.

Obviously, compared with what Sergeant Nina had described earlier, it now looked even more miserable: the crew hatches were all lifted up, the tracks on one side had been scattered to the side, the shovels, tools and other things tied to the vehicle had all been stripped off and scattered around, and there was a radial stain on the lower front part of the vehicle body.

The captain did not find any Germans next to the vehicle, but he quickly located the position of the German crew: a little orange-red firelight was coming out of a brick house next to the tank - the house had collapsed in half, and the Germans blocked all the holes facing north towards Leningrad to prevent observers on the Soviet position from discovering the firelight. However, several Germans obviously did not expect that the enemy would come up from behind them.

"Cossack, Cossack!" The captain lowered his voice, slid his submachine gun out from behind the bunker, and unscrewed the cover on the back of the German grenade. He called softly: "Look! Over there!"

The German crew consisted of 4 people, two were injured and two were intact.

The commander used a small wooden stick to dig at the broken furniture in the fire, while the gunner, his bandaged hands, stirred the instant pea soup in the enamel pot, along with the "Russian compressed protein biscuits" that had been added as seasoning. As a crew whose vehicle had broken down at the front, physically isolated from the main force for several days, these few Germans were undoubtedly lonely.

First, they lost their way due to the snow, and then, in their haste to return to the front, they took a shortcut and were ambushed by a few Russians. Although the vehicle's machine gun quickly eliminated the two isolated Russian soldiers, the hand-held grenade they fired before dying "hit the lower glaive of the Panzer III assault gun, blowing through the entire gearbox."

This was a fault that could not be repaired on the battlefield, and the Panzer III assault gun and its crew were forced to stay in a Soviet village that they could not even name.

The four men panicked for a long time, only to realize that everyone in the village had already fled. After contacting the rear via the vehicle radio, they learned that the assault gun battalion command was busy with synchronized troops destroying the relentless Russian counterattacks and could not send any forces to rescue them. So, led by the tank commander, they could only hide in the village and wait for rescue from the rear.

Since the entire crew had received artillery guidance training, the commander devised a plan: leveraging their position in the uninhabited area of ​​the battlefront, he observed distant Soviet positions from the village and reported the artillery coordinates to the headquarters in the rear. This strategy proved effective, and as the reaction speed and accuracy of the artillery in the rear increased dramatically, headquarters quickly expressed their appreciation for this temporary artillery observation team and repeatedly stated that they would send a recovery team to bring back these German heroes.

"Mr. Walker, will the camp really send someone to rescue us and bring us home?"

"Mr. Volk, our radio was also damaged today... I'm really scared." "It will be, little one. We play a big role. We send telegrams to the rear every day, and today it was interrupted. Maybe the battalion headquarters... no, maybe the division headquarters will send someone to rescue us right away."

The commander comforted the young man, fresh out of the Mustache Youth Corps. He was the youngest and had the lowest rank in the entire crew. Previously, he had been a child incredibly excited, curious, and thrilled about the war, but over the past few days, he had become like this.

"Look, what is this?"

Sergeant Walker took out a round tin can from his pocket, shook it in front of the little boy Witzlan, and then stuffed it into his hand. "Chocolate! We have made a great contribution this time. You will definitely receive an Iron Cross. So, don't be afraid, little one, you must be brave."

But just as he finished speaking, Otto, the driver who was on guard outside, suddenly shouted: "Who!"

There was a whoosh, the crisp sound of a bullet slicing through the air before splattering on the bricks. Then, with a plop, a body fell to the ground. Only then did the distant crackle of a Mosin-Nagant rifle reach the air.

Chapter 551: Human War (Part 2) Human Blood

What were these German devils thinking at this moment?

This thought flashed through Captain Andrei Sokolov's mind faster than the bullet of a Red October submachine gun, and at the same time, his own emotions seemed to be shot to the opposite side along with the bullet.

This brought about a strange experience. All his worries and thoughts over the past few days, his slight fear and even retreat, and even the pain from the serious scratch on his arm seemed to temporarily leave him - amid the bullets roaring at the invaders, the captain gained a brief moment of peace.

But now is not the time to be sentimental.

The distant sound of Sergeant Nina Pavlovna Petrova's rifle was like a whistle for a charge. As the German on the perch was felled by Mosin's gun, Captain Sokolov burst out from behind a pile of bricks like a bear. With both hands, he controlled the ferocious "Red October" submachine gun, suppressing the recoil from the Tokarev pistol bullet and the automatic mechanism bouncing back and forth. He instantly knocked down the first German who stood up.

Bullets ricocheted off his helmet, piercing his gray uniform and splattering dark blood. Meanwhile, Corporal First Class Cossack Yermakov aimed his rifle at the German "sentry" who had fallen from the second-floor roof, his life or death uncertain. With two bangs, the captured MP40 ensured the target's utter death.

The captain quickly pointed his gun at the second man, an older man wearing a leather headset instead of a helmet.

This man might be a communicator, the captain thought, an older radio operator. It was probably this guy who reported the position of our position to the Nazi artillery? It was him who caused the sacrifice of my comrades and the injury and death of my comrades.

Time seemed to slow down. The opponent didn't reach out with his arms outstretched, and his bird-like swooping motion also slowed. But time also seemed to speed up. The captain gritted his teeth, not giving the opponent a single chance to strike back. He fired Red October incessantly, advancing as he did so, pinning the opponent firmly behind the brick wall.

Finally, as the distance between them continued to close, Captain Andrei Sokolov passed the half-collapsed brick wall and fired the last few rounds from his 35-round magazine into the elderly German soldier's back. Click! Steam rose from the muzzle of Red October's rifle, signaling the end of a round of firing.

"Devil! You killed Wo—"

A childish, angry voice erupted in German. From behind the Nazi's corpse, a younger German lunged out. His eyes were red, his pistol clutched tightly, and he roared in an incomprehensible language. But the next second, a Cossack corporal, who had circled the side of the house, rushed out and decisively pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Captain, did we succeed?" "Yes, for now."

Andrei Sokolov gasped for breath. Only then did he feel his heart pounding. The chilly winter dawn air slid into his nostrils like a knife, only to be warmed by his body heat at his neck. He calmly surveyed the devastated battlefield.

“That’s it for now.

"We have to destroy this tank, destroy this observation point, and then evacuate quickly. There was a gunshot just now, and the Germans might open fire in this direction." The captain gave a second order and untied two grenades from his waist. "Cossack, go find the tank's fuel tank and see if there is any gasoline left."

If there is gasoline, throw a grenade in and the tank will catch fire and burn up, but people have to stay away from it at that time.

"it is good."

The Cossack boy took the grenade and ran towards the tank, while the captain squatted down and tried to feel around the dead German tank driver.

Because the enemy was hit by heavy bullets, Captain Andre did not find anything intact: a cigarette box with only one cigarette left, a wallet, and a watch - this was perhaps the most valuable thing, which allowed him to know what time it was.

He wiped the blood off his watch, put it in his coat pocket, and then took out the wallet. The wallet was made of horsehide and was crudely made. It didn't look as fine as a German watch. The captain opened it and found not many banknotes inside, but a thin party membership card. Obviously, the original owner of the wallet should be a Soviet.

"Vinocheslav Barannikov...Ah, poor fellow, poor fellow! How sad his mother would be if she knew."

Andrei muttered to himself, shook his head, picked up a stone, and smashed the rangefinder covered with rags that was propped up nearby.

This thing is too big to be moved. The captain, like a selfless sea otter, hit the expensive optical instrument with a brick, smashing the delicate optical lens assembly into pieces. "Cossack, Cossack! How are you doing over there?"

"Comrade Captain, do you know where the fuel tank of this German tank is? I can't find it, so I can just throw a grenade into the car?" "This... there's no other way, this will work."

At this moment, a gunshot suddenly came from the east of the village. It was the sound of a Mosin-Nagant, and then another one. It was like the distant gunshots that could be heard every day during this period, but there was something different.

Is this...a warning signal?

"Hey, hey—! Buddies! Are you in any trouble?"

Before the captain and the corporal could make a move, a strange voice emerged from the distance, and someone emerged from the ruins of the village. They waved to the Cossack, corporal Yermakov, who was squatting on top of the tank, carrying an MP40 and wearing a German helmet. "Don't worry, there's maintenance back there..."

The man's words caught in his throat as he saw the other men lying in a pool of blood, his eyes widening as he stared at the two Soviet soldiers, who also had their eyes widened. Then, the friendly greeting suddenly changed to a cry of terror. "Germans!" "Enemy attack!"

Suddenly, gunshots rang out all around and shouts shook the sky.

The Germans, at least a dozen of them, seemed to be a reconnaissance team, who had infiltrated from the southwest of the village. They had also sneaked in under cover of darkness, so that only now, just after sunrise, were they discovered by Sergeant Nina outside the village.

The Mosin-Nagant fired again, and before the sound could be heard, a bullet had already flown over four hundred meters and struck the German soldier in the thigh. He fell to the ground with a scream, rolling on the ground. "Cossack, Cossack!"

The Cossack Yermakov, who was on the roof of the car, pulled out the fuse of the grenade and threw it desperately towards the corner of the street where the Germans were infested. He ducked down and rolled directly off the top of the assault gun, falling heavily to the ground.

"Retreat! Go!"

The captain shouted at the corporal lying on the ground, but the multiple bloodshot wounds on his body silenced Andrei. This spirited young man could no longer stand up. "He's over there! At the three o'clock position on the tank, behind the brick building!"

"machine gun!"

The rumbling of an internal combustion engine accompanied an Sd.Kf.8 half-track vehicle, pushing aside the debris and farm tools in the alley and rushing out with a spray of gunfire. Immediately, a torrent of bullets poured into the half-finished room where the captain was hiding. The intensity of the firepower was so fierce that it made people feel like they were in the middle of a violent storm!

Nazi linen shears!

Andrei Sokolov was pinned to the ground, brick dust flying around him, making it almost impossible for him to open his eyes. The captain could only stretch his gun from the side of the bunker and fire a few rounds randomly. Suddenly, the continuous gunfire stopped for a moment, and the Germans were shouting something he couldn't understand again.

"There's another one! A damn Russian!"

“Where, where?!”

"It hurts so much, it hurts so much, please save me..."

Sergeant Nina Pavlovna Petrova and Captain Vanya thought of the two people they had left outside the village. They must have also discovered this German squad and were trying hard to provide support.

Damn it, why don't you retreat! Vanya, you are disobeying orders!

The footsteps around him were getting closer and closer. Taking advantage of the temporary silence of the machine gun, the captain leaned out half of his body, fired half a magazine at the Germans who were circling his flank in the distance, and then retracted it. In this situation, there was no time to confirm any bullshit results of the battle. He had to struggle desperately for his own survival.

But then, the Slavic man felt his body lighten and he flew up. Mortar... Shit, damn shit...

Ah, damn it... It seems that we ran into not only a German reconnaissance unit, but also a small unit with mortars and armored vehicles...

Captain Andre fell heavily to the ground, his ears buzzing, his limbs out of control, as if every cell in his body was screaming in fear.

He felt that everything around him was moving away from him, except for the burning sensation in his stomach.

Under the threat of imminent death, even the mortal pain was difficult to feel clearly.

Bastard Nazi! Think of a way, think of a way Andre!

Why am I here? What mission am I on?

I came here to take out the German observation posts, prevent the Germans from shelling the Leningrad positions, and reduce the casualties of my comrades. Before leaving, I was given a red smoke bomb, the kind that calls for artillery fire... smoke bomb... call for artillery...

Andrei Sokolov coughed violently and spat out a mouthful of blood.

He fished out a wax-sealed paper tube from his inner pocket. It was bright red, and it was unclear if it was the paper itself or if the blood had stained it, giving it a dazzling glow. The captain struggled to remove the safety pin at the bottom of the tube and then the wipe at the top. All he had to do now was run the wipe across the ignition tip...

Stroke...

He felt that he had no more strength left. Sukabuli! Sukabuli!

Andre's heart was roaring, but the objective and materialistic world did not care about a man's heart. The blood loss circulation and oxygen-deprived muscles were no longer able to drive him to complete such a simple action. He didn't know how many shrapnel had been injected into his body. His internal organs were losing blood in severe pain, and his consciousness was also swaying and about to fade away.

The Germans seemed to be nearby, their footsteps chaotic, shouting in German that he still couldn't understand. "Russians! Russians! To the north! All of them are Russians!"

"Tanks! Oh my God! Heavy tanks! Our half-tracks are destroyed!" "Retreat!"

What the fuck are they talking about?

The surrounding gunfire was deafening, but it seemed a little different. Amidst the clamor, I could hear familiar shouts and the squeaking of tank tracks. I should have learned a few words of German earlier...

Captain Andrei Sokolov finally closed his eyes.