878: Chapter 868: What Are You Hitting, What?
878: Chapter 868: What Are You Hitting, What?
Gao Yang aimed at the location from which the enemy was firing, but he did not shoot, because the range was insufficient.
Gao Yang’s maximum shooting range was one thousand three hundred mi, but the target was at a distance of one thousand five hundred mi—this distance was rather awkward.
The enemy’s first round of fire did not hit, but the first round was intended to adjust their aim, firing a burst of bullets, then correcting their trajectory, so the next round, which was likely to come, might hit.
The enemy could fire over, but Gao Yang’s side did not have weapons with sufficient range.
If they continued to close the distance, Gao Yang would reach his maximum range, but before he could open fire, the enemy’s hail of bullets would come sooner.
A 12.7mm bullet could easily travel one thousand five hundred mi without any problem and would still retain strong lethality, so now, Gao Yang had to make a choice.
Either bet that the enemy shooter wasn’t skilled enough to hit long-distance targets accurately, thus speeding up the boat to approach the enemy vessel, or turn tail and run immediately while they still had the distance.
The ship blocking their path was not the common ferry or barge, but rather a platform-like vessel with a solitary cockpit rather than a cabin like those on standard ships.
This type of ship was specially used for transporting logs, with heavier hardwood that sinks going directly onto flatbed ships, and lighter wood that floats being dragged in long chains directly downstream along the Amazon River.
All lumber companies used these timber-transporting ships.
On these flatbed-like vessels, there were no parts that could serve as cover, and they were slow to maneuver and turn.
The enemy’s boat had the advantage of being suitable for setting up a firing position, with no blind spots for shooting.
The downside was its slow sailing and turning speeds.
If one decided to turn and run, they would have a distinct advantage.
On the battlefield, you cannot afford to fear losing face, nor can you afford the stupidity of underestimating the enemy as fools.
If you’re outmatched, you’re outmatched.
It is essential to acknowledge the problem and then find a solution, rather than wishful thinking that the enemy is idiotic.
So, seeing that the enemy had a machine gun and the shooter was decent, able to correct aim in two or three test shots, Gao Yang began to consider whether to charge and breach the blockade between the ships or to turn and flee.
However, Gao Yang hardly had time to think before Glolov solved all his problems, as Glolov had also opened fire.
Once the enemy started firing, Glolov quickly followed suit, without adjustment shots or trajectory corrections.
Glolov’s first burst of bullets hit the enemy’s machine gun position.
A 7.62mm NATO bullet still had a considerable velocity after traveling one thousand five hundred mi.
The power actually wasn’t the problem, but to hit at that range, one had to shoot in a lobbing manner.
Lobbing meant elevating the gun barrel to let the bullets arc upward and then fall, which could achieve the longest flight distance.
When shooting at a long-range target, the trajectory is essentially this kind of curved path.
However, Glolov used an MG3-KWS machine gun, and the maximum range marked on its adjustable iron sights was one thousand two hundred mi.
In other words, Glolov did not aim at all.
He couldn’t; he blind-fired and managed to land his first burst of bullets precisely on the enemy’s machine gun position.
Glolov’s prowess with the machine gun could be described in one word.
Incredible!
If Gao Yang was a divine marksman, then Glolov was a deity of long-range suppressive fire.
Now, one deity had created the conditions for another to shoot.
Once Glolov opened fire, he pinned the enemy down.
Although they managed to fire another burst of bullets, under Glolov’s suppression—or perhaps Glolov’s shots had already killed the enemy’s machine gunner—the second round from the enemy’s heavy machine gun was so off that it only boosted Gao Yang’s team’s confidence.
Gao Yang bellowed, “Close in!”
The boat accelerated, and when both vessels quickly closed to one thousand two hundred mi, Gao Yang opened fire.
The enemy’s light machine gun also fired, and Big Beard beside Gao Yang opened fire too, but the most threatening heavy machine gun never managed to shoot.
The acceleration of the small boat wasn’t fast, but the hull was still slightly bobbing.
At such a long range, even the slightest bobble could cause a miss.
“Stop the boat!”
The boat quickly came to a halt, sideways on the water.
Tracer bullets from both sides created streams of light on the river surface at night, red or green, which looked beautiful but carried lethal threats.
However, the clear difference was that the bullets from Gao Yang’s boat could hit the opposing vessel, while bullets from the enemy’s boat could never hit Gao Yang’s.
At over a thousand mi, on a boat slightly bobbing on the waves, using a light machine gun to accurately hit a small boat was a joke.
In this world, there was only one Machine Gun Artist.
Finally, Gao Yang fired his shot.
At one thousand one hundred mi, once the boat had completely stabilized, he killed a person trying to brave the bullet storm to reach the machine gun position with a single shot.
“Change the barrel!”
As Gao Yang took down an enemy and an interval arose when they wouldn’t be immediately suppressed by enemy fire, Glolov bellowed.
Jansen grasped the handle for changing the barrel, twisted and released it, and the old barrel shot forward.
He pulled and twisted in the new barrel, and Glolov’s machine gun roared back to life, the entire barrel change taking less than two seconds.
The reason Glolov chose the MG3-KWS that is descended from the German WWII-era MG42, was that Glolov now had an assistant gunner.
Why does having an assistant gunner mean using an MG3?
Because it’s the fastest machine gun for changing barrels, bar none.
With Glolov’s exceptional continuous firing ability, being able to shoot endlessly meant he could suppress the enemy for longer, and suppressing the enemy for longer meant that Gao Yang could shoot and kill the enemy safely and at will.
Gao Yang, of course, wouldn’t let Glolov down.
He never disappointed anyone, at least not those on his side.
The two sides had come within one thousand mi, and now, Gao Yang’s long-range high-velocity rounds played a crucial role.
His bullets flew faster with a more stable trajectory, meaning he could hit more enemies.
Gao Yang rested his gun on the side of the boat, specifically aiming at the enemy’s machine gunners.
Though the distance was great and the rate of fire slower, the machine gunners would not move, making them not particularly difficult targets for Gao Yang.
About six seconds per shot, occasionally needing a follow-up to kill an enemy machine gunner, but by the time Gao Yang had fired seven shots and the boats approached within an eight hundred mi range, he had already taken out four machine gunners, temporarily neutralizing any machine guns that could pose a direct threat to them.
Cui Bo had tears streaming down his face.
His role as the official sniper had been completely taken over by Gao Yang, the Marksman, and finally, it was his turn to fire.
Poor Cui Bo, he truly felt bitter.
Every time it was his turn to demonstrate his sniper’s long-distance firepower advantage, he just happened to not have brought a large-caliber sniper rifle.
Although it wasn’t his fault—after all, taking a large-caliber rifle into the Rainforest was just asking for trouble—he decided that even if he were going into a small room for combat next time, he would bring his large-caliber gun.
He just could not endure this bird-brain feeling of being unarmed again.
SCAR-H, touted to have an effective range of eight hundred mi, but anyone who took that statement seriously was a fool.
Six hundred mi was the optimal firing distance for this weapon; beyond that, it was a matter of luck.
However, fortunately for Cui Bo, his SCAR-H was a proud modification by Jack, maintaining accuracy even at a distance of eight hundred mi was still achievable.
The enemy had four boats firing at Gao Yang and his crew, and other boats, too distant to shoot, didn’t fire.
But now the boats on the sides, which were farther away, were speeding up to converge in the middle.
Cui Bo’s gunmanship had already become quite good, absolutely at the level of an excellent sniper.
After he opened fire, he could hit the targets accurately, and as the distance shortened, his rate of fire also increased.
However, accuracy and speed, and being excellent, all depend on who you compare yourself with.
For instance, Cui Bo always compared himself with Snake-Eating Mongoose beside him.
Whether in rate of fire or accuracy, he always had the upper hand, which pleased Cui Bo quite a bit.
As for Gao Yang’s side, Cui Bo didn’t look that way, and he automatically ignored the continuous gunshots, as well as the targets he had just aimed at but fell before he could shoot—getting his targets snatched by Gao Yang was something he was already used to.
As for rate of fire and accuracy, there was no comparability, so it was better to just ignore it.
Cui Bo only compared himself with others.
Because in this world, there are two kinds of master marksmen: one is Gao Yang, and the other is everyone else.
Every soldier in battle wants to win, and it’s odd if they don’t, but unfortunately, after several deeply engraved defeats in secret, Cui Bo had learned to compare himself with other humans.
Having shot another running enemy on the boat and feeling pleased for hitting a difficult target, Cui Bo became helpless again upon seeing two men running toward the edge of the boat fall in quick succession.
It was like they had been hit by machine-gun fire rather than the single shots of a semi-automatic rifle.
“Can’t one happily be a sniper anymore?”
After muttering to himself, Cui Bo noticed that Snake-Eating Mongoose next to him seemed to have stopped firing for a while.
He turned his head and said with a face of disappointment, “Shoot!
Why aren’t you shooting!”
Snake-Eating Mongoose replied listlessly, “Shoot what?
There are no targets left to shoot…”
Not believing it, Cui Bo scanned around with his scope and found that he, too, had no targets left to shoot.
After a resigned sigh, Cui Bo whispered, “It’s done, he’s hogged them all again.”
By this time, Glolov and Big Beard also had no targets to shoot at, and they ceased firing.
A sudden silence fell on the boat, and then Frey, propped up in the cockpit’s ceiling, shouted, “Boss, can I take a shot?
Can I fire one at the enemy’s cockpit?
At least it would scare them a bit, otherwise, my waiting all this time would’ve been for nothing.” (To be continued.
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