Cannon Fire Arc

Filippov's squad was pinned down by a Prosen machine gun in a courtyard by the side of the road.

"Explosives!" Filippov turned and shouted, "Blow up the wall next door! We'll encircle the enemy!"

The sapper spread his hands: "All gone!"

Filippov cursed "Damn it," and then pointed to the residential building behind them: "Go see if there's another door, or a place we can climb over the wall!"

Immediately, two soldiers carrying bolt cutters rushed toward the house. The one in the lead kicked the door open with a flying kick, and then both entered, one after the other.

Filippov leaned against the courtyard door, took out the spoon he carried with him, and used the shiny back of the spoon as a mirror to observe the fire point position. To his surprise, the moment he stretched out the spoon, it got shot away.

His finger was also nicked by the edge of the spoon, and he started to bleed immediately.

"Damn it!" Filippov cursed again.

Then he heard the sound of engines.

"Enemy tanks?" someone guessed in a low voice.

Filippov said, "No, it shouldn't be. If the enemy tanks had cleared the fog, they should have come back, but they haven't. The artillery noise outside the city has also died down for a while now, I guess it's our tanks coming in for support!"

As he finished speaking, the sound of the tank engines suddenly became clearer—it was evident that the tanks had turned the street corner, and there was no longer any obstruction between them and the courtyard where Filippov and others were hiding, allowing the sound to travel directly into their ears.

No sooner had he spoken than the sound of a tank gun firing came from outside.

Filippov could even hear the sound of the shells flying past the doorway.

The relentless machine gun fire stopped immediately after.

Filippov peeked out, confirmed that the Prosen fire point was completely covered by the smoke from the grenade explosion, and then ran out toward the tank that had just turned the street corner.

The tank's accompanying infantry stopped him: "Which unit are you from?"

"I am the commander of the third company of the 31st Regiment. Can't you see my medals?" Filippov said loudly, "We know the distribution of the enemy fire points along the street below. We're here to guide the tanks!"

At that moment, the tank commander poking his head out of the hatch said: "Let him come up!"

Filippov immediately pushed past the accompanying infantry, climbed onto the tank, and said to the commander while lying on the turret, "On the left side of the fire point you just destroyed, there are two more along the street, each blocking a road. We've run out of explosives and can't blow up the courtyard walls to encircle the enemy."

The tank commander said: "Leave it to us. Have your troops join the accompanying infantry. We've also brought an ammunition truck inside, you can send someone to get ammunition from the truck!"

Filippov immediately shouted to his subordinates: "Misha, we have an ammunition truck out back. You take someone and get some ammunition! Everyone else, join the accompanying infantry."

At that moment, the tank started to move forward again.

Filippov gestured to the commander: "Drive up to the street corner, turn right about 30 degrees, and you can fire!"

No sooner had he spoken than the previously silent machine gun fired again. Bullets immediately took down three infantrymen, then rattled against the front armor of the tank.

"Fire!" the commander roared, and the 75mm gun sprayed flames again, the blast post from the muzzle kicking up all the surrounding dust.

The shell exploded where the machine gun flashes were seen, and Filippov clearly saw the machine gun and tripod tumble out of the gap made by the shell, crashing onto the street.

The machine gunner was also thrown out but got caught by rebar exposed from broken floorboards and hung from the ceiling of the first floor.

Filippov took up the anti-aircraft machine gun on top of the turret and sprayed bullets through the gap created by the shell to ensure no one was alive inside.

The commander said: "Advance! Just slow it down a bit to give the gunner and infantry brothers time to react."

Filippov stopped firing and looked towards those who had fallen. Soldiers had already approached to check them and gently shook their heads after touching their noses, "No saving them."

Filippov fired more fiercely at the enemy-held building, suppressing the Prosen's firepower.

Suddenly, a stick emerged from the building with white underpants hanging on it.

The commander with the binoculars said: "Am I seeing things? Have the Prosens surrendered?"

Filippov also stopped firing and reached for his binoculars, then realized the binoculars strap had been shot through by a bullet at some point, and his binoculars were gone.

He swore.

By then, the commander had already given the order: "Cease fire! Cease fire! Does anyone speak Prosen?"

Everyone looked at each other.

Filippov said: "I know a little."

"Yell at them to raise their hands high, put their weapons on top of their heads, and walk out slowly!"

Filippov raised his voice and translated the command into choppy Prosen.

Soon, an officer emerged from the building with his hands held high, carrying a white flag in his right hand and his own sidearm holster in his left, followed by the dirty and disheveled Prosen soldiers.

Filippov commanded: "Throw your weapons by the roadside, pile them up!"

The officer immediately did as he was told, tossing his sidearm holster on the ground and then proceeded towards the tank, still carrying the white flag in one hand.

The other Prosens dumped their weapons on top of the handgun holster, as if it were a marker.

Soon, a sizeable pile of weapons was accumulated on the ground.

Filippov looked at nearly a hundred prisoners and asked the leading officer, "You still have more than half a platoon, why didn't you continue to resist?"

The officer shook his head, "We have no anti-tank weapons and can't fight against tanks. Besides, we have already fought for our motherland long enough."

Filippov shook his head, "I thought you were more resolute fighters."

"That's just propaganda, it doesn't count for anything," the officer said.

————

Wang Zhong peeled a peanut shell and put the peanut into his mouth.

The bowl in front of him was already full of peanut shells.

Popov joked, "Thanks to the cooking of peanuts, General Rokossovsky will no longer be restless about not being able to go to the front lines to kill the enemy himself."

Nelly, "I'll cook a pot every day from now on to ensure he can't finish them."

Wang Zhong looked at Nelly, "Thanks!"

Pavlov, "If you're really that idle, you could do some staff work, you know, the staff members are having a hard time drawing maps and clerks are busy sorting out documents."

Wang Zhong, "What, you think that frontline soldiers just need to fight desperately against the enemy, while the staff have to think about many things? If you say things like that, I'm going to have Popov teach you a lesson!"

Vasily, "Ah? I thought they were all about picking manure! What's going on? Don't do this, you three generals looking at me together is a lot of pressure! Look, I'm almost going bald!"

Popov touched his own bald head, "What's wrong with being bald? It's the fate of men, you and the general are going to be bald sooner or later!"

Perhaps because there had been good news from the front lines, the atmosphere in the Corps Command was very relaxed, which was probably why Popov could make jokes.

Wang Zhong was solely focused on peeling peanuts.

That was when the communications staff officer came in, "We've received a telegram from the Air Force, they have spotted enemy armored forces to our northwest."

Wang Zhong immediately looked up, "Northwest? How far?"

A telegram couldn't provide a view, after all, transmitting and receiving took too much time and would be out-of-date.

The communications staff officer, "55 kilometers."

Wang Zhong and Pavlov moved in unison, both standing in front of the map at once.

The staff officer responsible for mapping hastily updated the map with the new information.

Wang Zhong, "To report the enemy's position so clearly, it must be a PE-2 modified reconnaissance plane, it has a navigator."

Pavlov, "And a telegraph machine, that's why they were able to send a telegram. What do you think?"

Wang Zhong, "The enemy wants to launch a pincer attack on us."

He looked at the communications staff officer, "Did the telegram say whether the enemy is on the move or if they have already deployed an assault formation?"

The communications staff officer shook his head, "It didn't mention that, just reported the location and distance."

Wang Zhong, "Have them clarify the enemy's status and take photographs if possible, send the message immediately."

The communications staff officer was just about to leave when another telegrapher came in and handed over a telegram to the staff officer, "Just decoded!"

"Understood." The staff officer took the telegram, looking down at the content.

Wang Zhong stepped forward and took the telegram to read it aloud, "Based on the interrogation of prisoners and the decoding of captured documents, your front is currently facing the enemy's 10th Army Group, commanded by General Boke. We are confident that this Army Group has under its command three Armored Divisions and three Motorized Infantry Divisions, as well as three to six Infantry Divisions, totaling 200,000 to 300,000 men."

After reading, Wang Zhong looked up, "Information sent by the Tribunal's intelligence department."

Pavlov took the telegram and as he read said, "It doesn't indicate any carbon copies, it means it was sent directly to us. Shouldn't this kind of intelligence be relayed to us by the Front Army?"

Wang Zhong, "The High Command will probably give similar intelligence to the Front Army. Anyway, we now know the current strength of the enemy. Although we took the initiative and won a battle, the enemy still has two more divisions like that. One of which was just discovered by our aerial reconnaissance."

As he said this, he pointed at the map and continued, "I have reason to believe that the enemy originally planned to use one division along with the city defense of Yeisk to hold us back, then implement a pincer attack on us. But they didn't expect us to rout Sednev's Division so quickly."

Pavlov, "But the enemy's pincer attack has not yet been broken. So what do we do? A frontal assault? Break through the enemy front?"

Wang Zhong shook his head, "Today, Sednev's Division was just routed by us, many of their core troops likely escaped, and they will soon regroup into a formidable force. In order to quickly weaken Prosen's power and reduce the number of veterans, we should fight an annihilation war as they did last year."

Actually, Wang Zhong had also planned to fight an annihilation war; he was waiting for all his units to arrive by the 16th and then launch an attack on the 17th.

By then, Yeisk would be completely encircled, and the enemy would be annihilated.

Today's attack was not originally aimed at capturing Yeisk, but it went too well, Yeisk was taken, the enemy was routed, and the annihilation war turned into a pipe dream.

Winning too swiftly can also be problematic.

Pavlov, "You want to take out the 10th Army Group? That's a bit of an overreach, you know, you might bite off more than you can chew. We only have a hundred thousand men."

Wang Zhong, "I'm aware. And the battle this morning showed that our armored forces on the steppe are a bit insufficient."

The phone rang again.

Pavlov picked up, responded a couple of times, then hung up and said to Wang Zhong, "The enemy's main forces in the city have surrendered, just scattered resistance remains. I estimate if we set out now, by the time we reach Yeisk, the enemy will almost be cleared."

Wang Zhong nodded, "Good, let's enter the city. Yeisk will be the supply center for my Army Group from here on."