Cannon Fire Arc

The gunner’s arm was wrapped in bandages, but they didn’t seem to be of much use, as they were soaked through, drenching the uniform beneath.

The gunner’s face was covered in blood, only his lips were frighteningly pale.

His breathing was incredibly weak, and he spoke with no strength in his voice, as if operating the main gun had drained all of his energy.

He stared at Wang Zhong, his right hand trembling as he lifted it, pointing to the pocket on his chest.

Wang Zhong understood immediately, reaching quickly to unbutton the pocket and pulling out a letter stained with fresh blood.

In various movies and TV shows, he had often seen such scenes, but he never dreamed he would personally experience one.

The letter in his hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Gunner: “Argesukov, Krugen Street 43, Alexeyevna…”

After finishing his words in fits and starts, the gunner’s hand slipped to the floor.

Wang Zhong didn’t know if this Alexeyevna was his wife or his mother.

Wang Zhong didn’t even know the gunner’s name; as far as his memory could tell, he had never asked for their names.

Not just the gunner, he didn’t know the loader’s name either.

A vast guilt seized Wang’s heart, as if he had done something terribly wrong.

If he knew their names, at least he could say goodbye to them properly.

But as he hesitated, a sudden explosion jolted Wang Zhong back to reality—this was not the time for contemplation, the battle was still ongoing!

Wang Zhong raised his view, confirming that the recent explosion seemed to be from an enemy tank.

Out of the eight tanks that had entered the village, two had been destroyed, and these two were concentrated on one street.

Wang Zhong followed the street eastward and, sure enough, he saw Monk Yeca Neiko’s group moving their position, with the ammunition handler carrying the last Divine Arrow.

A flare shot up into the sky, fired by officer Prosen, probably to indicate the direction of the incoming Divine Arrow.

Following the flare, Prosen’s infantry started to deploy smoke bombs, blocking the vision of the Divine Arrow group.

At this moment, Wang Zhong thought these well-trained enemies were truly detestable.

He must come up with a way to destroy the remainder of the enemy tanks, and then Team 422 could once again sweep through the enemy infantry that lacked anti-tank capabilities.

But to get Tank 422 moving again, they needed a gunner.

Wang Zhong’s first thought was to act as the gunner himself, but then he considered the enemy’s impressive expertise; a greenhorn like himself undertaking the gunner’s role might endanger the entire crew.

A trained person had muscle memory; even in a state of panic, their body would act on that memory. Wang Zhong, without any training, had no idea how to operate a tank’s main gun.

Suddenly, he recalled reading in a memoir that tank operators should be familiar with every position, or they couldn’t become a tank commander.

So he asked, “Driver, do you know how to operate the main gun?”

“No! And I have to drive!”

Wang Zhong recalled that the memoir he read was Otto Carius’s, which said that German tank operators needed to be versatile, capable of performing any role.

But this was not Earth. The tank operators of the Ante Empire clearly did not have such requirements.

Wang Zhong, still unwilling to give up, asked again, “Electromechanic, can you operate the main gun?”

No one answered.

“Electromechanic?”

“He’s also gone,” the driver said softly, “It’s just a few of us left on board.”

Wang Zhong was stunned; he had thought that Team 422 was lucky, with only a loader lost to a frontal hit.

As it turned out, all that was left were the driver and Wang Zhong, acting as the tank commander.

A surge of intense desolation and sorrow flooded Wang Zhong’s chest.

He finally understood what the bond of comradeship meant—even though he had no idea what the names of those fallen comrades were.

So he whispered reverently, “I may not know your names, but your deeds will live on forever.”

But the battle still had to be fought; after a brief moment of silence, Wang Zhong shouted, “Does anyone know how to operate the gun?”

The infantrymen remained silent.

At that moment, the officer who had been following Wang Zhong’s orders spoke up, “Maybe we should abandon the tank; we can all see it’s in a bad state.”

Wang Zhong: “No, it can still fire; it’s still in fighting shape, as long as we have a gunner!”

“But none of us have the necessary training. We might manage to drive a tractor or get by driving a car, but a tank…” the officer shook his head.

Wang Zhong bit his lip.

He was still reluctant to give up, even if they couldn’t use the tank’s main gun, there must be something else they could do—

Suddenly, he had an idea.

Wang Zhong: “The engine! The enemy places a great deal of importance on radio communication; they must surely be aware that we used the engine to bluff them. So, they will be especially attentive to the sound of the engine!”

As he spoke, Wang Zhong glanced at an overhead view, and the smoke released by the enemy infantry caught his eye.

Wang Zhong: “And the smoke! Sergeant, how many smoke bombs do we have left?”

The officer replied, “We have plenty left, my lord. Additionally, we have captured a complete flamethrower.”

Wang Zhong: “Then that settles it. I’m giving you a mission: immediately deploy smoke along the street and let it engulf the entire village!”

Officer: “Wouldn’t that make it impossible for the machine guns to function properly?”

“It doesn’t matter! The core of this operation is to use the enemy’s fear of us!”

Officer: “Fear, my lord?”

Wang Zhong hesitated; he didn’t know if the enemy feared Tank 422 after he had destroyed so many tanks. If they didn’t, they were all doomed.

But, he had to try.

With enemy tanks providing direct fire support, the machine guns couldn’t fire more than a few bursts before having to move, or they’d be hit by a 50mm ‘fruit.’