Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

On the north bank of the Han River, a cold mist hangs in the air.

The earth trembled, breaking the tranquility of dawn. The crunching of tracks crushing the ice, mixed with the roar of diesel engines, converged into a heart-stopping torrent of steel.

An armored regiment of the U.S. 1st Cavalry Division is attempting to cross the Han River.

"Move! Move!"

Inside the lead M26 Pershing heavy tank, Captain Smith, the tank commander, chewed gum, half his body leaning out of the turret, holding up binoculars, his face full of arrogance and disdain.

In his lens, the positions of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army on the opposite bank were quiet, and not a single ghost could be seen.

"These Chinese, besides digging holes and acting like rats, are just filling our tracks with their own flesh and blood."

Smith sneered into the walkie-talkie, his tone as dismissive as if he were going on a picnic:

"Guys, floor the gas! Once we get past this riverbank, it'll be flat as a pancake! We'll use our tracks to grind their bones to dust!"

Behind him, dozens of M4 Sherman and M26 Pershing tanks lined up in an attack formation and pressed forward menacingly.

In their view, this was not just an attack, but a massacre.

There were no anti-tank weapons and no heavy artillery.

Relying only on rifles and grenades, the Chinese People's Volunteer Army had no power to fight back against this steel monster except to be crushed in despair.

however.

What they didn't know was that right there in the shadows of that seemingly desolate forest...

A dozen steel beasts, unlike anything ever seen before, lay silently in wait, their low-slung bodies covered in camouflage netting, their thick, long cannons coldly pointing towards the riverbank.

"Company commander, the American devils are coming up to their deaths."

Wang Erzhu, the platoon leader of the tank company, was lying in front of the periscope, his palms sweating, not from fear, but from excitement.

The tank he was standing on was a "precious gem" that Director Shen personally led people to modify.

The chassis is based on the Russian T-34, but the original towering nose has been flattened and replaced with a semi-circular, sturdy-looking cast turret.

What's even more frightening is the cannon barrel.

105mm rifled gun!

It's even thicker than the 90mm gun that the Americans are so proud of!

"Don't rush, get closer and attack."

Company Commander Sun Dayong's voice came through the earpiece, as steady as a rock:

"Director Shen said our 'skin' is specially made, we're not afraid of being hit. But these shells are precious, so you'd better aim carefully and try to take them down one by one!"

"Understood! One shot, one kill!"

Wang Erzhu licked his chapped lips, lightly touched the accelerator with his toe, and the engine let out a deep roar, like a tiger purring in its throat.

On the riverbank.

The US tank group had advanced to within 500 meters.

"Fire at will!"

Captain Smith waved his hand.

"Boom! Boom!"

Several Pershing tanks opened fire first, their 90mm high-explosive shells slamming into the front lines of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army, kicking up clouds of mud and snow.

Just then.

"Buzz—"

A deep, violent engine roar suddenly erupted from the woods.

The camouflage net was lifted.

Twelve strangely shaped, never-before-seen dark green tanks, like tigers unleashed from their cages, charged out of the woods with an unreasonable and domineering aura!

"What the f**k is that?!

Smith was startled and nearly dropped the binoculars into the cabin.

That's not a T-34! Nor is it a Stalin-2!

That low, streamlined hull, that pot-lid-shaped turret, and that terrifyingly long cannon barrel…

What the hell is this monster?

"Target 12 o'clock! Fire!"

Smith reacted swiftly, roaring out the order.

"boom!"

The Pershing tank beneath him jolted violently.

A 90mm armor-piercing round, whistling sharply, accurately struck the lead Volunteer Army tank—Wang Erzhu's vehicle.

"clang--!!!"

A crisp, somewhat eerie metallic clang echoed across the entire riverbank.

Sparks flew everywhere.

Smith stared intently at the plume of smoke, a victorious smile just beginning to spread across his face.

However, the next second, his smile froze on his face, as if it had been frozen by liquid nitrogen.

The smoke and dust cleared.

The tank that was hit by the bullet was completely unharmed!

There was no explosion, no fire, and the speed didn't even slow down in the slightest!

On the sloping frontal armor, there was only a faint white mark. The armor-piercing shell, which was powerful enough to penetrate any World War II tank, was like a stone thrown by a naughty child hitting a steel plate and was bounced away!

"Ricochet!"

The American gunner screamed in despair, "It can't be penetrated! It's impossible to penetrate! Is it solid?!"

"That's impossible!"

Smith went crazy. "Those are 90mm armor-piercing rounds! Even a Tiger tank would be rendered useless! What kind of armor is this?"

Little did he know.

The front of this "modified Type 59" vehicle is equipped with the first-generation "composite armor" specially developed by Shen Jinghong.

With its high-hardness ceramic interlayer and steep angle design, it is an insurmountable wall of lament for armor-piercing projectiles of this era!

That's what happens when you're thick-skinned and tough!

This is absolute defense!

"Heh heh, trying to tickle me?"

Inside the car, Wang Erzhu felt the vibrations of the vehicle, but instead of being afraid, he was overjoyed.

"It's only polite to reciprocate! Americans, have a taste of our big stuff!"

He suddenly turned the turret.

The advanced fire control system instantly locked onto Smith's vehicle.

Even at high speed, the thick, long cannon barrel remained as steady as a mountain, firmly pointed at the enemy's forehead.

"boom--!!!"

The 105mm rifled gun roared.

The enormous recoil caused the tank, weighing tens of tons, to suddenly lurch to a halt.

A tungsten-core armor-piercing discarding sabot projectile, with a terrifying initial velocity several times the speed of sound, tore through the air and instantly traversed a distance of 500 meters.

"puff!"

There were no earth-shattering explosions.

There was only a dull, teeth-grinding sound of metal being torn apart.

Smith didn't even have time to feel the pain.

The shell cut through the Pershing tank's thick turret without any resistance, just like a hot knife through butter, and then, with terrifying kinetic energy, it went through the back of the tank!

"Boom!"

Immediately afterwards, the ammunition detonated.

That once-arrogant US military command vehicle instantly transformed into a massive fireball. The turret was hurled more than ten meters into the air by the enormous shockwave, crashing heavily onto the riverbank like a broken pot lid.

One shot, and you're dead!

Lift the lid!

"My God..."

The remaining American tank crews completely broke down.

This is hardly a duel.

This is clearly torture and murder!

Their shells clanged and clattered when they hit people, but didn't even leave a dent; when the other side's shells came, one shot was enough to kill a child, sending them and their vehicles flying into the sky!

"Run! It's a monster!"

"Retreat! Retreat now! This is a trap!"

The once menacing American tank formation instantly descended into chaos.

Sherman tried to turn around but got stuck in the mud; Pershing tried to reverse but was blocked by friendly forces behind him.

Meanwhile, the tank company of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army had already stormed into the sheepfold like a pack of wolves.

"Charge! Shoot them face-to-face!"

Company Commander Sun Dayong roared into the radio, his voice filled with a vengeful satisfaction:

"Don't give them a chance to breathe! Smash these iron turtles to pieces!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The roar of cannons and the clash of steel filled the air.

The banks of the Han River have been transformed into a burning graveyard.

A dozen or so Chinese People's Volunteer Army tanks were chasing after dozens of American tanks. If MacArthur had seen this scene, he probably would have had a stroke on the spot.

Less than half an hour.

The battle is over.

The riverbank was littered with the wreckage of burning American tanks, and black smoke obscured the sky.

Wang Erzhu pushed open the hatch and crawled out.

He took off his tank helmet, wiped the sweat and grease from his face, looked at the scrap metal scattered on the ground, and couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of saliva:

"Pah! What ace? What armor?"

He patted the steel vehicle beneath him, riddled with bullet holes yet still standing firm, and smiled broadly:

"Compared to our '59 Modifications,' they're all trash!"

This battle.

It completely broke the backbone of the US armored forces.

The legend of the "monster" tank spread like wildfire throughout the US military, becoming a persistent nightmare for every tank crewman.

Rear command post.

Shen Jinghong looked at the battle report sent from the front line, holding a red and blue pencil in his hand, and drew a line heavily on the huge battle map.

This line crosses the Han River and passes Uijeongbu.

It pointed directly at that strategic location known as the "Iron Triangle".

"The Han River is safe."

Shen Jinghong put down her pen, turned to look at Lin Qinghan beside her, and her eyes gleamed with a shrewd, calculating light:

"Next, it's that old guy named Van Fleet's turn to have a headache."

"Doesn't he like to focus on 'ammunition stock'?"

"Then let's go to Tieyuan and teach him a lesson."

"Let him see what a... steel torrent really looks like!"