"Damn!"
With a booming artillery blast, Ryan, who could barely hear anything anymore, shouted with feverish excitement! He could faintly hear the words he had spoken, which he felt was enough to prove he was not deaf.
He had to admit, tanks were just too damn exhilarating! He was already considering applying for a transfer to become a tank driver or gunner! It was fucking awesome! By the time he finished cursing, the loader had pulled open the breech, and a wave of heat instantly poured into the cramped space.
At that moment, Ryan and the others had actually taken off their clothes. The fan at the bottom rear of the tank, which was used to vent heat, was also spinning loudly.
It seemed that something had gotten stuck inside. The fan blades kept striking it back and forth, but could not knock it out.
Unfortunately, there was no time on the battlefield to inspect a minor issue that posed no lethal threat.
The loader glanced into the gun barrel. Seeing nothing attached or left behind, he shoved in another shell and pulled the breech closed again.
He was already getting tired. It was obvious from the way he loaded the shells and the speed of his movements. After all, this counted as physical labor.
With another jolt, the tank crossed a small mound and charged into the dilapidated Slums on the outskirts of the city for the second—or perhaps third—time.
In Maliro, brick-and-concrete buildings and large houses with intact wooden structures were all located in the city center.
The farther one went toward the outskirts, the more dilapidated the places became.
Some houses were assembled from just a few wooden poles and several pieces of patched-together rags used as walls. Apart from providing a little shelter from wind and