Mercenary's War

Chapter 2451: Chapter 2427: Steel Rain

Right now, the battle conducted by Satan is mainly artillery-based. If anything happens, just call Rebrov directly, and the artillery opens fire directly; Satan doesn’t need to do anything.

Everything is handled by the artillery, so Satan’s team naturally has nothing to do, and they feel very bored, finding life rather dull.

Combat is inherently high-risk work, dull as it may be, nobody really complains. Gao Yang spent a lot of money and effort, painstakingly raising this artillery force. If you complain just because the artillery is too effective, that would be ungrateful.

Gao Yang, of course, is very proud of Rebrov’s important role, and as for Rebrov, he is even prouder.

Who wouldn’t want to become a pivotal figure, a core force that decides the battle’s direction? Rebrov is very satisfied with his current role and the importance of his position.

"Destroyed one self-propelled artillery, and two supply vehicles."

Rebrov proudly announced the recent achievements to his deputy and two calculator soldiers.

"Not bad, it’s time to order the brothers to relocate."

Speaking was Rebrov’s deputy, named Roshkov, who was a lieutenant in the Ukraine Government forces artillery unit. Later, he was captured by Satan and ended up with Angel; not wanting to continue being a captive in Eastern Ukraine nor return to the Western Ukrainian Government Army, he decided to work for Satan for big money.

Roshkov is thirty-one years old, a very steady officer. Although he commanded artillery for many years in Ukraine, held a higher rank than Rebrov, and was more experienced, he diligently served as Rebrov’s deputy. There’s no choice because he’s not a graduate of the Sumy Higher Artillery College, and crucially, he isn’t trusted more than Rebrov.

The artillery, codenamed Sheep, has never been targeted by an air raid or focused artillery strike, yet they strictly adhered to the greatest advantage and rule of self-propelled artillery units, which is: fire and relocate.

Nowadays with artillery radar, things aren’t like decades ago. Within seconds after firing, you can be pinpointed by radar; if you don’t move within three minutes, you’re bound to be bombarded. In Ukraine, Roshkov doesn’t dare to engage in artillery fire for more than five minutes; firing a few shots within two minutes and then quickly escaping is definitely the right move.

Here, Rebrov and Roshkov would choose not to be complacent and unwilling to violate the primary rules of artillery, hence why they order a change of position.

Roshkov made a suggestion, and though Rebrov found it troublesome, he too made the same decision; if the artillery is fired, it’s only natural to relocate.

But just as Rebrov was about to order the relocation, he heard Liang Dong’s voice coming through his walkie-talkie.

"Wild Duck, did you relocate? I’m almost there. Today’s main course for lunch is borscht, didn’t you guys strongly request it? I tried according to your recipe, and later you can taste if it’s authentic."

"Oh, Mouse, my brother, thank you so much. We haven’t relocated; you truly surprised me."

After speaking over the walkie-talkie, Rebrov excitedly said, "Mouse made us borscht, hahaha!"

Roshkov too was overjoyed; in this hellhole where it’s unbearably hot, the key issue is the food, which is really unappetizing. The power of habit is strong. Now, the biggest wish of the predominantly Ukrainian artillery unit is to have a bowl of borscht.

Roshkov concernedly asked, "Mouse is supposed to deliver the food soon, should we still relocate?"

Rebrov gestured with his hand, saying, "The closest alternative position is five kilometers away. The route here is challenging; packing up for relocation and deployment would take at least an hour. I just told Mouse we haven’t relocated because I’m not planning on relocating."

Roshkov’s concern was that the borscht might get cold once delivered after relocating, and it wouldn’t taste good if not hot, rather than worrying about potential air strikes or artillery attacks. After all this time, they haven’t encountered any attacks.

"Alright, let’s not relocate, after all, there’s no issue."

Rebrov was very happy, everyone was happy, and in eager anticipation they waited for less than ten minutes when the walkie-talkie went off again.

"Wild Duck, prepare to welcome me!"

Rebrov laughed, got up, and while leaving the command post, loudly said, "He’s here."

Rebrov’s command post was set in a small valley nook, where two large stones were covered with a black sunscreen net, and a table made of wooden boards was placed underneath, holding maps and various calculating tools, forming his command center.

As for the self-propelled artillery, they were stationed on a piece of flat land about four hundred meters away from the command center; in mountainous areas, having a flat ground is fairly important for deploying self-propelled artillery.

The command center had no door. Standing outside the stones, Rebrov could already see a pickup truck driving up the mountain path.

The sky was very blue, the sun blazing, the mountains were black, and the stones heated sizzlingly. In the air, a scent of something scorched wafted around.

Rebrov glanced up at the sky, looked at the artillery positions, and observed the mountain in the distance. Everything seemed monotonous; aside from the blue sky, there appeared to be no color, all seemed blackish, yet Rebrov liked it here; he just did.

Seeing the vehicle carrying the meal, Rebrov waved to Roshkov and said with a smile, "Tell the brothers to stand down, stop firing, it’s time to eat, and after the meal, we’ll relocate."

Rebrov looked at his artillery positions, feeling very good, then he saw small white parachutes suddenly appear above the self-propelled artillery. Soon they turned into a canopy of grey clouds.

Clusters of grey clouds abruptly emerged above the artillery positions, then flashed, turning into round cloud-like formations. Only then did Rebrov hear a series of sequential and dense explosions. The explosions weren’t powerful, but they were too densely packed, momentarily depriving him of hearing.

Under the sun’s glare, rain fell on the dusty ground, causing stones and sand to fly in all directions.

What fell from the sky was a rain of steel.

Grey smoke, black smoke, one self-propelled artillery after another caught fire, exploded. Rebrov witnessed a soldier, who had just poked out half his body from a turret, vanish before his eyes, turning into red mist.

The world lost its sound; only vibrant colors gradually reflected in Rebrov’s eyes.

Rebrov felt his knees weaken, eventually kneeling on the stony ground, but his knees felt no pain; the real pain was in his heart.

In a short time, the rain stopped and the clouds dispersed; Rebrov, using all his strength, finally shouted out.

"Brothers! It’s over, all over, my brothers..."