Chapter 52: Regrettable Battle

On the priority scale of target selection, Lin felt that those Soviet trucks possibly carrying ammunition and supplies should at least be treated equally to tanks in terms of destruction. However, as the battle raged on, the majority of targets where German soldiers placed explosives were tanks. Finally catching sight of a tall Soviet officer leading a few "night warriors" towards the area where the trucks were parked, Lin quickly raised his submachine gun and followed suit.

Even as bullets flew past him, he continued to run, keeping his head low and his body hunched, not stopping to engage with enemies a bit further away. However, as he passed behind an assault gun, he unexpectedly came face to face with a Soviet soldier who was equally unprepared. Startled, he instinctively raised his gun and pulled the trigger—before the Soviet soldier could aim his "Mosin" rifle at him, Lin gave him a burst of fire. At a distance of less than ten meters, the series of bullets pierced into the body, and spurts of blood silently splattered in the darkness amidst the flames.

Phew...

Watching the fallen Soviet soldier, Lin breathed a sigh of relief. In such encounters, life and death were decided in an instant, but who could guarantee that their nerve reactions would always be faster than the opponent's?

Without time to examine the unfortunate adversary, Lin looked around. These trucks, with their unusually tall bodies, looked like ordinary four or six-wheeled structures from a distance. However, upon closer inspection, it would reveal that their rear wheels were paired closely together, forming a group of two for each set—"four-wheeled" actually meant two at the front and four at the back, while "six-wheeled" meant two at the front and eight at the back. This configuration easily brought to mind the famous Dodge and General Motors trucks of the United States, which appeared in almost every World War II movie. It was well-known that the United States, under the Lend-Lease Act, provided the Soviet Union with a large amount of equipment and supplies, including over four hundred thousand trucks and jeeps. This allowed the Soviet industry to focus on producing tanks and self-propelled artillery, thus establishing a "dual advantage" in force and equipment on the Eastern Front.

Seeing the tall officer and three "night warriors" heading towards the drivers' cabins and rear compartments of two Soviet trucks, Lin suddenly realized that they were not intending to destroy these vehicles but to use them for retreat—perhaps this strategy had been decided at the outset of the operation, or maybe the accompanying "irregulars" had been informed before departure. Lin had no way of knowing all this, nor did he have time to stop and ask his companions to do everything possible to destroy these Soviet trucks. Hesitating for a moment, he approached a nearby truck, lifted the tarpaulin, and looked inside, finding a cargo of uncertain contents. Making a snap decision, he took out the remaining explosives, lit the fuse, and threw it into the compartment. Then he quickly stepped forward, counting to eight in his mind, and with the posture of a goalkeeper diving for a ball, he lunged forward. Although the ground was somewhat hard, the prone position evidently helped to save his life. In an instant, blinding light accompanied by deafening noise swept over as the powerful explosion not only turned the truck into a burning fireball but also tore apart several nearby trucks of the same model, with steel frames and tarpaulins, scattering burning fragments all around. And that wasn't all; in the blink of an eye, a succession of secondary explosions created a spectacular scene: flames shooting up into the sky, comparable to heavy artillery shells fired by battleships, vertically piercing a height of twenty to thirty meters, while horizontally engulfing three or four trucks nearby. In just two or three seconds, the nearest truck was also turned into an explosive barrel under the burning flames. The second explosion, resembling a giant yellow fireball, suddenly soared, and the powerful shockwave swept up countless debris, sweeping around...

Though the trucks caught in the blast still had the possibility of secondary explosions, Lin saw that the two trucks seized by the "night warriors" had already started. Despite this, he climbed up, pointing at the exploded Soviet truck and shouted at them, "Idiots, can't you see? These are the ones you should be blowing up! These are the valuable ones!"

Unfortunately, the elite German special forces couldn't understand his Chinese at all. One "night warrior" was vigorously waving at Lin from behind the truck's compartment, shouting for him to get on board for evacuation.

Lin was speechless.

The reversing truck, with the tall officer sitting in the front passenger seat, drove towards Lin. The "night warrior" driving the truck seemed to be more familiar with Soviet trucks. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other vigorously tapping on the door, he shouted the retreat slogan.

Lin couldn't contain his excitement at this moment. He even wanted to shoot the front wheel of the truck directly, so that those on board could stop and see what they had missed. But in the end, he didn't pull the trigger—nor would he actually do so. It was just a tremendous sense of loss turning into resentment. He yelled, "You fools, you're all a bunch of fools!"

The "night warriors" on the truck would never understand what this suddenly agitated "irregular" wanted to do. Seeing him standing there roaring, the tall officer just gave him a cold glance.

After adjusting the reverse, the second truck also approached from a short distance away. At this moment, a shell whizzed past from nowhere, leaving almost no time for Lin to dodge. Fortunately, this shell was not very large in caliber, and its power was relatively effective. It exploded loudly on the muddy ground ahead, splattering mud and dirt all over Lin's face, like a vicious slap.

Lin was stunned. After a moment, his head cleared again, and his thoughts raced even faster.

It would be rash to judge the success or failure of this operation solely based on surface phenomena. Even if the commander was dull, there was a saying, "As long as there is life, there is hope." If he ended this war journey out of spite—being shot dead directly by the enemy or becoming a prisoner, that would be the real foolishness!

Disturbed by the shell, the second truck, controlled by German soldiers, veered slightly outward, causing its trajectory to move further away from Lin. This might be his only chance to leave the village. With the belief of survival, Lin didn't hesitate to stride forward, even as bullets whizzed past his ears and enemy soldiers' shouts seemed to be right next to him. He didn't delay for even half a second to look back. At this moment, the "night warrior" in the rear compartment of the truck was firing wildly with his assault rifle, evidently exerting some suppressive effect on the Soviet infantry.

With just three or four meters left to the truck, Lin's left foot landed in a depression, and a sharp, piercing pain instantly shot up from his ankle. Despite having sprained his foot many times while playing soccer before, this was a completely different situation, and his body hadn't fully adapted in just four days. Nevertheless, Lin suppressed all distractions with his strongest willpower, mentally giving his ankle a "closure," while using all his strength to sprint forward—The second truck, under attack from Soviet gunfire, slightly slowed down, and a "night warrior" opened the rear compartment's tailgate, grabbing onto the side railing with one hand and reaching out as far as possible to pull Lin in.

A sensation of pain emanated from tightly clenched lips, and his body swayed as he stumbled forward. Lin desperately stretched out his right hand, not daring to imagine what would happen if a bullet struck him now...

A cold hand finally grasped another cold hand, and the simultaneous burst of force lifted his heavy body off the ground. Although there was an unbearable pain as his chest hit the side of the truck bed, Lin astonishingly managed to grab onto the compartment and, with the help of his comrade, climbed inside.

Once again, he narrowly escaped death!

Lin didn't even have time to sort out the myriad emotions surging within him before he was driven by his comrades' shouts and the continuous gunfire to push himself up. With his submachine gun still tightly grasped in his left hand, he quickly got onto both knees. It was evident that the German soldiers who remained in the Soviet tank assembly area were being influenced by their comrades' calls and were well aware of the fate they would face if they fell behind. They began to withdraw—not in a panicked rush. Several tanks parked side by side continued to explode one after another. Lin saw figures wearing large-eared steel helmets retreating while firing, and some of those who had withdrawn earlier had already boarded the first truck. The Soviet soldiers, who were organizing a counterattack, seemed to have realized that the assailants were attempting to retreat. They shouted slogans and charged forward, some even climbed onto tanks and opened fire. If Lin had his Mauser 98k, he would have given them a deadly lesson. Unfortunately, his MP44 was out of ammunition, and the MP40 had limited range and scarce ammunition. He could only sling the submachine gun over his shoulder, use his right hand to hold onto the truck's side railing, and extend his left hand to help his comrades board the truck while it was in motion. After several soldiers boarded, he stepped back slightly to make room, sitting down heavily and gasping for breath.