Chapter 11: Nowhere to Hide

In an extremely dire situation, a beautifully executed ambush relieved the scarcity of food and ammunition to some extent and also turned the tide of the battle. The morale of the German soldiers marching northwest along the highway had improved considerably. They, adorned with steel helmets, were chatting and eating as they walked. Among them, Lynn might have been the only one feeling downcast. He had many unanswered questions and worries—what if he became a Soviet prisoner one day? Would he suffer the same fate as those who were killed despite surrendering, and would he ever return to his previous life after death, or would he drift forever in the endless void?

The rumble of tank treads still echoed in their ears. Out of the two half-tracked armored vehicles that had participated in the battle, only one remained, the assault variant with a turret. It had barely survived the onslaught of Soviet tank fire during the battle, but it was riddled with holes, and one crew member had been killed while another was severely wounded. To maintain combat effectiveness, soldiers had to be temporarily pulled from the infantry to replenish the crew.

Currently, this makeshift combat unit, formed from retreating personnel, was advancing along the route previously taken by the Soviet armored forces. The officers seemed intent on encircling the Soviet combat units between their own lines of defense, hoping to sandwich them with the defending forces and, even if unable to annihilate them entirely, withdraw back to their own lines amidst the chaos. The plan seemed sound, but the failure to capture several trucks in the previous ambush was perhaps the biggest regret. With the soldiers exhausted, the idea of sustained forced marches was unthinkable. Maintaining a normal marching speed of four to five kilometers per hour was already considered good.

Half an hour had passed since they left the battlefield, yet they could still see billowing black smoke rising behind them. Soldiers tasked with "clean-up" had poured gasoline from Soviet armored vehicles and cars onto the gathered prisoners of war, the collected firearms, and the ammunition crates piled around the artillery pieces. While destroying Soviet equipment indirectly eased the pressure on their own operations, the explosions and thick smoke from the burning ammunition also served as beacons for Soviet aircraft.

As expected, two dark specks soon appeared in the eastern sky. Their buzzing sound, like that of flies, was more effective than bugles or boots, prompting hundreds of German soldiers to hasten their march, some even transitioning from walking to jogging. Fortunately, the ground was damp, preventing the rise of choking dust. However, after leaving the previous wooded area, the vegetation along the road was sparse, offering no cover for a group of several hundred soldiers.

Having eaten some bread, which tasted like wax, Lynn's strength had somewhat recovered. But after walking a distance with two rifles and a drum magazine bag on his back, that heavy fatigue spread from his legs to his entire body once again. With his life at stake, he could only grit his teeth and persevere, driving his now somewhat free body forward with sheer willpower!

The buzzing grew louder, and Lynn could now turn his head to see the two Soviet planes with their dark green camouflage. From their silhouette, they did not appear to be the Il-2 Sturmoviks, nicknamed the "Black Death," but this was hardly a reason for the German soldiers to celebrate, as each aircraft's wings were bristling with rockets. As they swooped down, the propellers stirred up a low, mournful hum, and the engine's buzz had a penetrating quality that induced a sense of oppression and tension even from a distance. Seeing the two Soviet planes assume a ready-to-attack posture, German officers shouted for the soldiers to disperse to the sides of the road.

The surrounding soldiers scrambled in different directions, but Lynn lost sight of "Butcher" and found himself desperately running in the direction away from the road amid a crowd of unfamiliar faces. At that moment, a swooshing sound came from above, but Lynn dared not lift his head to witness the spectacular scene of rockets flying in unison. Instinctively, he crouched lower, making sure not to slacken his pace. In an instant, intense explosions followed one after another. When the booming subsided, Lynn, imitating actions from movies, swiftly threw himself forward to the ground. However, many soldiers behind him failed to halt in time and were struck by the strong shockwaves, stumbling and falling in heaps. One soldier even fell directly onto Lynn. Had the weight been any heavier, it might have sent him into shock.

The explosions were numerous, occurring at intervals, divided into two batches. The deafening blasts left people's ears ringing. Lynn was so absorbed in the explosions that he didn't hear the sound of the two Soviet planes flying overhead. When his hearing somewhat recovered, all he could hear was the familiar and nearby sound of machine gun fire. The soldier who had fallen on top of him scrambled away, muttering incomprehensibly. Lynn took a deep breath and turned his head to see the dissipating smoke. The armored car was engulfed in flames, surrounded by scorched earth and shattered debris, with bodies lying around, their fates uncertain.

On both sides of the road, several machine gun teams temporarily assumed the role of anti-aircraft units: one soldier carried the machine gun on his shoulder while another crouched or half-squatted to aim and shoot, with another soldier assisting in handling the ammunition belt. The sound of the MG34 or MG42 firing sounded like hoarse cries of crows, with golden bullet casings spewing out like miniature waterfalls from the guns. However, these "infantry heavy weapons" seemed to pose little threat to the Soviet aircraft. Soon enough, another Soviet plane whizzed past, barely thirty meters above the ground. At such close range, every detail of the troops on the ground was visible to those in the aircraft, including their size, composition, main equipment, and the sorry state they were in. This information was probably already recorded by the Soviet pilots.

The machine guns continued to roar, and shortly after, the second Soviet plane also dove down. As its two wing-mounted machine guns opened fire, the cracking sound of bullets bursting filled the air, with bullet streams kicking up clusters of dirt on the ground. One of the German machine gun teams was caught in the crossfire, and several soldiers lying prone on the ground failed to escape. A brief observation revealed that this short burst of fire had caused nearly ten casualties.

Amidst the thundering engine noise, the first Soviet plane climbed to an altitude of a hundred meters and flew directly eastward, while the second one only climbed to about half that height. It made a wide-radius turn, circling around the troops for about a minute before diving down from the north. As it descended to its lowest altitude, the wind stirred by its propeller could almost blow the sand and gravel on the ground. Lynn felt that this daring low-altitude display not only demonstrated the Soviet's absolute air superiority on the Eastern Front but also showcased the strong confidence of the Soviet officers and soldiers.

Flying past at ultra-low altitude as if giving a haircut, the Soviet plane's strafing this time lasted longer. The German machine guns fiercely fired at this "green eagle," causing the gunner and the soldier carrying the shoulder support to assume extremely awkward and twisted postures due to the tremendous recoil. Many scattered German soldiers, evading the air raid, also fired their submachine guns into the air. However, the Soviet aircraft flew away as if nothing had happened. It climbed back up to several tens of meters in altitude, gracefully rolled sideways, adjusted its posture, and then dove down from a slightly oblique angle from the east, opening fire from several hundred meters away. This time, the mid-mounted cannon on the plane also fired. The bullet rain that fell on the ground seemed to be drawn in straight lines by invisible hands, with the intervals between the central bullet points wider than those on the sides, causing a scene of soil and blood mixed with fragments of cloth. The piercing screams of the machine guns couldn't drown out the cries of agony. The German soldiers desperately fired their weapons upward, and many bullets could be seen hitting the Soviet aircraft, yet it once again flew away as if nothing had happened.

Shocked! Lynn was thoroughly stunned by the scene before him. Although the bullets from ordinary machine guns were small, could the Soviet plane really be invincible against them?

Even after three consecutive ultra-low altitude "performances," the Soviet pilot still seemed unsatisfied. He piloted the aircraft calmly, climbing to a slightly higher altitude this time. He circled around the German troops for a longer period, almost completing a half circle with the troops as the center, before diving down again from the south.

Hearing the distinctive swooshing sound of the Soviet aircraft diving down, Lynn's heart leaped to his throat. Especially when the bullets grazed the gravel on the ground just moments ago, he felt as if he were teetering on the edge of life and death. Those bullets were of heavy machine gun caliber or cannon shells. If one were to hit him, not only would his life be over, but he might also meet a fate worse than death - to die without a whole corpse.