It was one of the few buildings in Smolensk that still stands, and it was also the temple that all the Soviet troops who held on to the city of Smolensk would never collapse. Every brick and tile there was soaked with the blood of Soviet soldiers, and every stone there was mottled with bullets.

After a burst of rapid gunfire, just across the street, a machine gun position erected by the Germans had already gained a foothold here, and more than a dozen German soldiers slowly turned the corner with an armored car with a machine gun turret on it, mercilessly harvesting the lives of Soviet soldiers with the 20 mm cannon on the armored car.

Several Soviet soldiers carried their weapons across the street, and the German bullets swept along with them, and the ammunition on the ground splashed a cloud of white smoke, and as this white smoke rose, except for one Soviet soldier in the lead, the rest of the poor people were pierced through the body by the bullets, and they just lay down in the center of the road.

Every minute and every second people died, running from one side of the street to the other side of the street would cost a few soldiers or even a dozen soldiers, the water and electricity supply to the neighborhoods defended by the Soviet defenders had been stopped, and the Germans even used heavy artillery to destroy many large-scale residential areas to prevent Soviet soldiers from using their garrisons. As the battle progressed, the situation here got worse and worse.

Resistance has tended to collapse because most of the lines of communication have been destroyed. The German Stuka 2 bombers bombed the city accurately according to the position where the special forces deliberately provoked the fight, and easily destroyed many Soviet command nodes. This style of play caused the Soviet troops to lose effective control over their subordinates even for a short time, allowing the Germans to easily divide them and break them one by one.

But the Soviets, who had lost their unified command, still used their instincts to hold their positions, and they fought repeatedly with the Germans on every street and every block, fighting until the last man did not give up. After all, there are tens of thousands of Soviet main forces here, and they truly represent the courage of the Soviet elite to fight to the death.

Unfortunately, it would be unwise to collide with a German army armed to the teeth with steel. The Germans used their superior firepower to drive the Soviets out of the rooms and buildings they were defending, and methodically cleaned up the entire Smolensk recalcitrant Soviet soldiers.

"Kuris! Do you see that building? We're going to put the flag on the roof of that building! You bring someone over! I'll arrange machine guns and bazookas to cover you! Understood?" a company commander leaned against the wall on the corner and pointed to the tall building in the distance, which was impossible to verify, but it had withstood the fire and had not collapsed until now.

In the courtyard of the building, by a trench, a Soviet soldier was spewing hot tongues of fire from a Maxim machine gun in his hand, and he and his assistant shooter tried to prevent the German troops from crossing the street, and not far from the front of him was already lying with the corpses of the Soviet Red Army's own people.

At this point in the battle, there is no time or energy to deal with those cold corpses, they treat the corpses of their comrades and enemies as dirt under their feet, and they don't pay attention to them, shooting calmly and firing at the side of the corpses, without looking at the corpses whose expressions were distorted when they died of pain.

"Over there!Over there!The Germans are coming! The German infantry is approaching!Be careful!" the secondary shooter screamed loudly as he pointed at the two German soldiers who were bending over on the other side. Not far from him, two soldiers with rifles who were firing quickly turned their muzzles, after all, their responsibility was to cover the flanks of the heavy machine gun.

"Bah!" A gunshot rang out, and a bullet that flew from nowhere hit the head of the co-shooter, and blood splattered everywhere, and the Soviet heavy machine gun stopped firing. German snipers seemed to be everywhere in the city, demoralizing the Soviet troops, but also eliminating large numbers of Soviet soldiers, often opening up the ground for the German attacking forces.

In some of the barricade battles, a German sniper even sniped more than a dozen Soviet machine gunners in succession, so that the Soviet defenders finally had to give up the battle with the Germans for these barricades. The Soviets also had some snipers involved in the counter-war, but unfortunately because of their sheer numerical inferiority, these snipers did not achieve as dazzling results as their German counterparts.

"Rush! Rush!" the heavy machine gun roared again, hitting a German grenadier trying to get closer, but the machine gun position was destined to be arrogant for long, as more Germans waited on the other side of the street for what they wanted to wait.

Three war correspondents were setting up their camera equipment behind a hidden low wall, while several German soldiers were also reloading the Iron Fist bazooka. The journalists came from the German propaganda department and specialized in making documentaries about the war.

The camera pans in a hail of bullets and focuses on two German soldiers, one of whom is doing the same with his iron fist bazooka on his shoulder. The Germans watching from the side shouted the numbers loudly to get them ready to shoot, and the picture looked very tense.

With an order, the two men leaned out of the low wall at the same time, and the Iron Fist bazooka on their shoulders also flew out one after the other, and a puff of white smoke came out of the tail of the tube-shaped Iron Fist Bazooka, blocking most of the camera lens. The reporters who carried the cameras from beginning to end were only filming the two anti-tank rocket launchers next to him, and they didn't even dare to poke their heads out to take pictures of the situation on the other side.

However, in this way, there was still a not-so-smooth accident, a bullet hit the bazooka steel plate in front of the German soldier carrying the bazooka to protect his face, hit the edge of the iron plate and flew out, leaving only a spark, so frightened that the German anti-tank soldier who shot hurriedly threw away his weapon and lay down.

"Hell, someone was hit! Someone was hit!" a reporter shouted loudly and threw away the camera in his hand, and the camera that fell to the ground accurately recorded his panicked appearance, but unfortunately the photographic technology of this era cannot record sound at the same time.

"It's okay! I'm fine!" the lying German soldier said he was safe, and then slowly leaned against the low wall and sat up slowly: "That bullet almost hit me! God forbid!"

The black smoke of the explosion had risen from the Soviet machine-gun position opposite, and the Germans had the support of heavy weapons, of course, they easily destroyed the Soviet fortifications, and the two German officers reminded the reporters who came from afar that they could shoot in that direction, so the two cameras began to turn the angle and pointed the camera at the place where they had just dared not aim it.

Black smoke was billowing from a sandbag area, and an MG42 machine gun erected by the Germans in the distance was firing fiercely to cover the attack of the German troops. The tracer bullet swept in a straight line in the direction of the Soviet defenders, and it looked very dazzling. A dozen German soldiers, hunched over and carrying their rifles, quickly ran past the camera lens, braving a hail of bullets and rushing to the building in the distance where the Soviet troops were standing.

"Oh my God, this is the real battle! This is the real battlefield! It's shocking, it's shocking!" exclaimed one of the journalists, who stood up and exclaimed excitedly, seeing the stunning images he had taken, and that he would definitely be famous in the Berlin photography scene at hand.

A bullet flew out of nowhere and hit him in the chest, passing through his right shoulder near his chest, shattering his bones and flying out from behind him with flesh and blood, spilling another reporter in the face. Before he could shout, two German soldiers had already pounced on them.

"Are you crazy? This is the battlefield! If you stand up, your head will be broken!" The German officer in charge of receiving the reporters held his steel helmet and cursed loudly: "Medic! Medic! This fool has been hit!"

"I was hit, why didn't I feel pain? Did I really get hit?" the reporter, whose face had been spilled with the blood of his companions, cried out and ran his hands around his body, trying to find where he had been pierced by the bullet. His voice was already shaking, and he felt like he was about to die.

The German officer held down the guy and shouted to him helplessly: "If you are hit by a bullet, you will not have a chance to fumble with your hands, it is your companion who has been hit! ”

The photojournalist who had been hit did not shout, but looked in horror at the people around him, feeling something flowing from his shoulder, but not where his arm had gone. He stretched out his left arm and grabbed the sleeve of a German soldier and said, "Am I dying?

"You've been shot in the shoulder, but your life shouldn't be in any danger...... You help him put down the tourniquet! Suppress it! Force! Blood spurts out!" The medical soldier on the side said to him loudly while treating the wound: "Tell me your name, tell me about your hometown!"

"My name is ...... Okay, help me put the camera away, it's important there! I want to go back to Berlin! You can prove that this is not a pose, it's a real battle scene!" the photojournalist instructed with wide eyes.