As soon as close combat began, the Ante People began to gain the upper hand.
It wasn’t because the Ante People were larger in size, but because the stopping power of the guns in their hands was higher. The Prussians were specifically assembled assault teams, equipped with MP38 and MP40 submachine guns shooting pistol bullets; unless a fatal hit was achieved, the target would mostly continue to move.
The weapons of the Ante People fired reduced-load rifle cartridges, causing huge damage no matter where they hit, putting a Prussian soldier down with a single shot.
This was crucial in close combat because everyone was at close range and whoever had higher stopping power per shot had the advantage.
Yes, in close combat, both Ante People and Prussians would shoot whenever they got the chance.
Additionally, the weapons in the Ante People’s hands were heavier and extremely sturdy, proving exceptionally effective when swung as melee weapons.
The brutal melee quickly unfolded in every corner of the city.
————
Filippov swung the butt of his gun from bottom to top, sending a Prussian soldier flying into the air.
Without waiting for the enemy to land, Filippov hurried to regain his submachine gun’s shooting stance, looking for enemies to shoot, only to find out his squad had wiped out the opposition.
“Five minutes rest, reload your weapons, collect grenades from the enemy bodies, Misha, you keep watch.”
The ordered private nodded and immediately rushed to a pile of wood by the wall, looking out vigilantly over the street from above the brick wall.
The others began searching the bodies of the Prussian soldiers.
Suddenly, someone called out, “There’s a live one here!”
Filippov turned his head and made his way over in three steps, finding a Prussian soldier with a wounded shoulder, his hands raised high.
“Just kill him and be done with it,” said a sergeant in the squad.
Filippov pressed down on the sergeant’s gun, “We are General Rokossovsky’s troops; as much as the general hates the Prussians, he never tortures prisoners, at most just a shot in the shoulder before letting them go.”
The sergeant’s expression softened, “Alright, you’re right. So, should we also give him a shot in the shoulder?”
“No, things are different now,” Filippov turned to the private with a bandage on his shoulder, “Grisha, you stay behind.”
“I can still fight!”
“I know, that’s why I’m leaving you to guard the prisoner. What use would it be to have you stay if you couldn’t fight? You did well today; I saw you take down a Prussian who was even taller than you.”
The private no longer argued but glared at the prisoner with resentment.
Filippov: “You’d better tie him up. Everyone else, continue with the previous order and reload your magazines.”
Ante infantrymen generally carried three full magazines in addition to the one in their guns, but by now, everyone’s magazines were nearly empty. Apart from the magazines, each person also carried some loose bullets in the backpack on their back.
Exactly how many depended on their personal carrying capacity.
Right now, Filippov was giving everyone time to take spare bullets from their backpacks and load them into their magazines.
He also checked his chest rig for empty magazines, taking out spare bullets to fill them.
While loading bullets, he suddenly heard Grisha say, “Someone, give me some bullets.”
He looked up and asked, “What, you didn’t bring enough?”
Grisha spread his hands, “I never thought I’d live to empty all my magazines, damn, someone give me some!”
Everyone shook their heads, one replied, “Everyone’s magazines are almost empty; we might not even be able to refill our own.”
Grisha sighed, slung his empty gun over his shoulder, and picked up an MP40 from the ground, “Last year, I thought the Prussian submachine gun was the best-designed weapon in the world, I even planned to use it for the entire war.”
He skillfully removed the magazine to check the amount of ammunition inside before inserting it back and expertly chambering a round.
Filippov, “Why did you stop using it?”
“Because there are better weapons now. The Prussian submachine gun is light and handy, but obviously not as good as our new guns. Past 100 meters, this thing can only shoot wildly.”
Filippov, “It’s a submachine gun that fires pistol bullets; don’t be too critical.”
“True. It’s barely acceptable for urban warfare.”
Filippov finished loading the last bullet, now he had two full magazines again, plus the half-spent magazine on his gun, which should last him a while.
He placed the magazines back into his chest rig, looked at his watch, then checked on everyone’s progress, deciding to extend the rest time by a few minutes, at least until everyone had their spare bullets loaded into magazines.
At that moment, there was the sound of artillery shells whistling overhead.
The veterans looked up at the sky.
“Bombing outside the city?”
“I heard engine sounds in the fog just now; enemy armored units might have broken out of the city.”
“We all heard it. The artillery fire is probably targeting the armored units.”
Filippov, “Stop chatting and arm yourselves quickly; there are still many enemies waiting for us to kill.”
The team hurriedly bowed their heads to load bullets.
After a moment, seeing everyone was armed, Filippov stood up, “Let’s go! Since the fog has cleared, we don’t need to worry about friendly fire. Head towards the direction of intense gunfire to restore contact with other units as soon as possible.”
————
On the Prussian side, Andreas followed Sergeant Kosolek and had already made it to the city’s edge.
Sergeant Kosolek: “There’s a motorcycle!”
Andreas also spotted the motorcycle, probably a sidecar three-wheeled motorcycle from the motorized reconnaissance battalion.
Sergeant Kosolek stepped forward to quickly inspect it, then deftly used the butt of his gun to smash the lock and mounted the bike.
Andreas exclaimed in alarm, “What are you doing?”
“Didn’t you hear the engine in the fog? The troops have pulled out, we’re getting out of the city to catch up with the main force now!”
“Is that okay?” Andreas asked worriedly.
“If the troops hadn’t made it out of the city, then what we’re doing would definitely be a problem, and I’d be shot by the disciplinarians, and you’d have to go to the disciplinary camp to prove yourself. But since the troops have left the city, we’re just following orders. Get in the sidecar!”
Andreas hesitated, but did as the sergeant instructed, then the sergeant began to vigorously pedal, attempting to start the motorcycle.
Suddenly, he stopped struggling with the pedal and looked up at the sky.
Andreas, being a new recruit, didn’t understand the meaning of the whistling sound in the sky and could only mimic the sergeant in looking up.
Sergeant: “The bombing’s outside the city, why?”
Both of them had been running on the ground and, even after the fog lifted, had not gotten to a high point to see that the Division’s forces had only driven their vehicles outside the city to avoid being ambushed in close combat by infantry in the fog.
Finally, the sergeant shook his head: “Never mind, let’s go.”
He stepped hard on the pedal again, and this time the engine finally started.
Sergeant: “You control the machine gun from the sidecar. Although, I think the machine gun probably won’t be much use against enemy armor once we leave the city, it’s better than nothing. Plus, it’ll still be very useful against enemy infantry before we get out.”
Andreas held onto the rear of the machine gun, placing the butt in his shoulder socket: “I’m ready!”
The sergeant revved the engine, and the motorcycle started moving, quickly accelerating through the narrow streets.
————
Yegorov saw through his binoculars that his own tank battalion and tank destroyer battalion had moved into position, and then shouted to the communicator standing by: “Phone!”
The handset was immediately brought to his hand.
Yegorov: “Connect to the Corps Command—Hello? Switchboard? Hello!”
He called out several times and then angrily returned the handset to the communicator: “The damn rats must’ve chewed through the phone line again, send someone to check the line! Bring me a field phone!”
Military Bishop: “Should we tell the artillery to cease fire?”
Yegorov pointed into the distance: “Obviously, look at this shelling—it’s impossible to see where the enemy is. We can’t defeat the enemy if the artillery doesn’t stop.”
Bishop: “Maybe we don’t need to do anything anymore.”
“How could that be? The enemy surely still has armored forces left. Artillery can solve many problems, but it’s not omnipotent.”
The signalman handed the field phone to Yegorov: “Corps Command on the line.”
Yegorov took the handset: “Corps Command! This is Yegorov, our formation is completely deployed, stop the shelling and leave it to us!”
General Rokossovsky’s voice came through from the other end: “Are you sure? The enemy has quite a few of those long-barrelled Mark IVs, don’t they?”
Yegorov raised an eyebrow: “Quite a few?”
“It’s my guess,” said General Rokossovsky dryly. “I’m usually right, aren’t I? Let’s shell for another 30 minutes.”
Yegorov: “Okay, you’re the boss, you call the shots.”
After putting down the handset, Yegorov turned to his adjutant and said, “Send someone in a jeep with orders to stop the shelling after 30 minutes, and to get ready.”
The adjutant saluted and departed.
The Military Bishop looked at the dense barrage and remarked, “So, the general still trusts his own artillery more?”
Yegorov: “It’s what he’s good at.”
Just then, a guard yelled, “General, look over there!”
Yegorov turned his head and saw a cloud of dust on the dirt road between the Guards machine-gun infantry and the 225th Infantry, indicating a unit moving from the direction of Army Group headquarters.
Bishop: “Troops from the 1st Melania Division?”
Yegorov: “That doesn’t seem right. The level of mechanization in our Army Group is so high, infantry ride in M3 half-tracks, which kick up more dust than this. This looks like a bunch of trucks.”
At that moment, a Willis jeep drove up, and the Colonel of the Army Group’s motorized regiment got out, saluting Yegorov: “The motorized regiment has been ordered to escort the temporary 401st Infantry Division through the defensive zone.”
Yegorov raised an eyebrow: “Escorting greenhorns into the meat grinder of the city? When did Rokossovsky become so cautious.”
Bishop: “Right now there should be six to seven thousand of our troops in the city, mainly from our two large regiments. There shouldn’t be any problems. Listen how sparse the gunfire in the city has become.”
The colonel of the motorized regiment shrugged: “I’m just following orders.”
Yegorov: “Letting the greenhorns get some experience is not a bad idea. Call our units in the city with the radio, tell them the brothers from the temporary 401st Infantry Division are going in, and to be careful not to cause friendly fire.”
The signalman immediately began calling with the field phone.
Yegorov, meanwhile, continued to observe the enemy armor being bombarded through his binoculars—he always considered them the “big fish,” while the city fight was just a side show.
“Why does 30 minutes feel so long!”