"Undead pest, confirm unit status."
The sound from the microphone filled little Ruspel's ears.
"Approaching waypoint."
he replied, staring at the auspicious screen.
"No enemy observed."
"Attack formation one, confirmed."
"confirmed."
Little Ruspel's voice was low and steady.
"We are in attack position."
"good luck."
He didn't respond with the end of the call, and the roar of the machine filled the silence that followed.
It was dark inside the car, and his breath fogged up the periscope lenses. He stayed in this closed cabin for six whole hours, breathing filtered air, with less than a few inches of room to move. Everything seemed so familiar to him. It is difficult to imagine other forms of war.
His full name was Haysen Ruspel, but because of his father, Colonel Kent Ruspel, people generally called him Ruspel Jr. (You can go back and read Chapter 91)
His father was a tank soldier, so naturally, when he grew up, he was also thrown into a pile of steel and rough men.
Little Ruspel's father had served in the regiment for nearly forty years. Before his retirement, he was the commander of the 5th Armored Assault Regiment. This also made Hesse Ruspel a little embarrassed when getting along with his colleagues.
After all, he didn't want him to think of him as a relative, so he even used a fake name when he first entered the military camp.
In the end, he won everyone's respect through his personal charm and trustworthy combat ability, and became a glorious commander——
His machine was an old Malcador heavy tank, named after one of the most important courtiers of the Emperor's crippled days.
There is no doubt that this gentleman must be a model of excellence in all aspects.
However, contrary to its name, this tank is actually a brutal guy.
Its name is Undead Vermin, an ugly hunk of tracks, armor and protruding gun barrels, with a battle cannon protruding from a piggy-backed turret and a large-caliber Crusher cannon mounted On the front of the tank, two laser cannons are located on the side gun positions on both sides of the tank.
Generally speaking, there are a total of six members in the car. The main gunner and his companions are squeezed into a little space in front of the commander's position. The distance is so close that the commander can pat everyone on the shoulder without effort. At the same time, this vehicle The machine's drive unit and ammunition inventory occupied most of the space in the car body. The side gunners were separated on both sides of the narrow central compartment by crawl hatch covers. The front gunner and driver were huddled in a wedge-shaped space behind the front armor plate, which was just about the size of the vehicle. So that they don't get killed by the recoil of the Crusher Cannon.
It is worth mentioning that his father was the captain of this car back then.
This thing is like their family heirloom in a sense.
Although it may sound a bit strange that a tank has been passed down for two generations, but in any case, this is still a reliable, but bad-tempered guy.
And its design also has some problems. Although after long-term improvements, the shooting range of the Malcador has been improved to some extent, but the horizontal firing angle of the front is still not as good as that of conventional tanks such as the Leman Russ, and the side guns cannot be covered. The rear area of this machine.
Once the enemy comes to its rear, the armor loses its meaning. There is a joke among the officers that the Malcador is actually an "assault tank" because no one can figure out that all weapons can only move forward. Shooting machines can also be used for other purposes.
But for little Ruspel, that was nothing.
The Immortal Vermin allowed him to survive the war on Armageddon, scoring several kills in the process, and even combined with other vehicles to take down a green-skinned mech, despite being both old and flawed. , but it has never had a problem.
If he had a home after leaving Nessen IV, it was the cramped and rusty cabin of the Immortal Pest.
"This is the latest combat order from the Chapter Master."
Little Ruspel blinked away a drop of sweat from his eyes and checked the unit icons on the screen again.
He was the company commander now, and his three tanks were there, rolling forward in a line two hundred meters wide.
From a more macro perspective, the armored forwards of the entire Astral Knights formed a battle line nearly one kilometer long, including Leman Russ, Chimera, Land Raider, Sikaran battle tanks, and all the other miscellaneous ones. type, consisting of a terrifying metal iron fist
Then he pressed the unit's transmitter and winced when it made a sharp sound in his ears.
"All units of the second company, here are the undead pests, we are on the offensive line, the enemy unit is expected to be in two minutes."
Confirmation replies came one after another, and little Ruspel listened and looked after the auspicious device.
Even if a machine is still moving and showing identification signals, that doesn't mean it's in good condition.
Sometimes tanks will have various problems, such as breakdown, line failure, etc.
"How many people can be heretical this time?"
The dark-skinned gunner who looked like a green skin was leaning his head on the breech of the battle cannon. Little Ruspel was not looking at him. The screen in front of him was much more important than the gunner's need to chat to relieve his tension.
"Just counting this wave, how many machines are there? Throne, I also heard that the Titans have also been dispatched. The rolling of so many iron guys can shake the ground to the sky."
The gunner then laughed nervously.
"The Knight Mechs are not Titans. Titans are much bigger than them."
Suddenly, the correspondent turned his head and corrected the gunner.
The gunner then reached out and slapped the opponent on the head, almost knocking his hat off.
"Say it like you've seen a Titan!"
"Hey! What are you doing! I really saw it, at Armageddon -"
Ignoring the chatter of the crew, little Ruspel was watching the countdown of their distance from the waypoint on the auspicious screen, and then pressed the external microphone.
"All units——"
"I asked, are those heretics stupid? Do they just fly down from the sky like this? Do they think we can't see them?"
"Activate weapons, free fire, anything without a friendly sign is a target, repeat, activate weapons, free fire."
"If they weren't stupid—"
"Shut up!"
Little Ruspel said, leaning forward and placing his eyes on the observation window in front.
"ah?"
"Load the cannon and keep quiet."
A second later, young Ruspel felt the thud of the gun's breech reloading closing.
He didn't have to make sure the gunner had memorized the mission briefing; his inability to shut up didn't affect his memory or skill with the main gun.
This is why they have been able to work together for so many years.
"The smoke wasn't thinning, these Cadians... they were frightened and shouldn't have released the smoke grenades so early, which would have caused them to lose sight before the enemy."
Little Ruspel glanced at the rotating green light on his sight and pressed the regimental microphone switch.
