Chapter 135 Rescue

Thinking that the area above had been hit by heavy artillery fire from the Soviet army, Linen was relieved when the oppressive thud occurred just once, without repeating.

Well, that was good enough. Suppressing the nausea churning in his stomach, Linen slung his assault rifle, equipped with an infrared flashlight and night vision scope, across his back and began to climb up the shaft.

The manhole cover wasn't the only access point from the sewer to the surface. This shaft eventually led to an extremely rudimentary small room, or rather a sewer maintenance station. Situated mostly underground, the small windows on all four sides were slightly above ground level, occasionally casting dim light into the room, illuminating various odds and ends in the corners.

Carefully crawling out of the shaft, Linen squinted as he surveyed the surroundings. Sidestepping, he ascended the steps to one side of the room, climbing four steps up, and gently pushed open the partially closed door.

With the rumble of artillery and sporadic, sometimes continuous gunfire as the background score, the world outside was imbued with the essence of slaughter.

Pressing his left arm against the wall, Linen peeked cautiously through the crack of the door. Not far ahead was a street, scattered with large and small debris - stones, cement, and wooden blocks, parts of a typical building now lay in a relatively primitive state.

The sound of rapid gunfire, like a drumbeat, seemed to come from the street around the corner, but Linen didn't see any dark red flashes flying across his line of sight.

Hearing the faint rustling behind him, indicating that several soldiers had caught up, Linen opened the door wide enough for them to pass through. Though the air was tinged with a faint smell of gunpowder, it was fresher than in the sewer.

Carefully scanning left and right, Linen couldn't see any figures on the street outside. Suddenly, he heard the crackling sounds of distant fireworks. Roughly one second apart, the bursts of light were frequent but not exact, and the source of the light was obscured by the neighboring buildings. In this moment, Linen was reminded of his childhood. When their family couldn't afford fireworks, he would lie on the balcony during the New Year and Lantern Festival, watching the flickering lights from afar, imagining the splendid colors based on the sound alone.

Shaking off his momentary distraction, Linen returned his gaze forward. In just a few seconds, he had swiftly crossed the hall. Looking back, the soldiers followed him like the agile tails of black cats, impossible for others to step on.

Boom!

An ear-splitting blast accompanied by a brilliant flash came from ahead. Linen instinctively crouched down to dodge. The floor was likely made of marble, and even in the almost completely destroyed building, it still retained some smoothness. Linen managed to slide a short distance despite his sudden stop, and he found himself leaning against the damaged stone staircase. Raising his gun, he peeked around and saw thick smoke billowing from a curved doorway ahead. Judging from the building's internal structure, that area beyond the doorway should be a slightly smaller alcove.

Before Linen could think too much, the alcove erupted with the sound of gunfire, sounding very familiar—almost a mixture of an MP40 and "Pop-Pop-Sha". Immediately after, he heard chaotic shouts, but they weren't in German!

Oh no!

In the darkness, Linen widened his eyes unconsciously, faced with the options of attacking, waiting for a counterattack, or retreating. He had to choose one of these three paths in the shortest possible time, and it wasn't just about him. The fate of the 19 soldiers behind him and the German command staff in the building depended on his decision.

In less than two seconds, Linen uttered a few simple syllables: "Prepare to fight!"

Immediately, there was a flurry of rifle bolts behind him, sounding incredibly exhilarating.

"God help us," Linen whispered in his mind.

In this brief period of less than ten seconds, the sounds around him underwent an extremely complex transformation once again. Linen heard someone shouting "enemy" in German, followed by the light, rapid sounds of handguns firing, seemingly coming from the floor above.

Rashness wasn't part of Linen's character description. In the blink of an eye, he calmly analyzed the situation and, with lightning speed, glanced at the stairs beside him. Though they were broken, they could still reach the floor above. When the relatively monotonous sound of submachine gun fire came from the alcove, Linen finally shouted in a low voice, "Jonas squad, advance forward. The rest, follow me!"

The journey from the Army Library to Friedrichstrasse Station was relatively mundane. Linen divided his special forces team into groups. The most experienced Jonas partnered with Frings to command the "scattered soldiers" who were tagging along. Bruck commanded the soldiers originally from the Eric Assault Team. Wofrum, Brul, Tanz, Tichmell, and Chimelman were directly under Linen's command.

This seemed casual but was by no means a decision made on a whim.

With one command, like an arrow released from a bow, irreversible. Linen suddenly leaped up, grabbing the railing at the bottom of the stairs for leverage, swinging his body up the stairs and running upward on the shaking, shattered steps. In close combat, both the MP44 and the Mauser 1932 submachine gun had their advantages. Linen chose the former because he had high confidence in his marksmanship and was skilled in quickly changing magazines. Additionally, the infrared night vision equipment on this assault rifle could accurately identify targets in chaotic night battles.

Before reaching halfway up the stairs, the sounds of assault rifles and submachine guns from below rang out, like several strings of firecrackers going off simultaneously. Linen knew the casualties from attacking the front might be higher, but his decision was made. He no longer hesitated and gritted his teeth as he charged upward. The second-floor landing finally appeared in his line of sight, and he turned left without slowing down. Although the lights weren't on, there were sporadic red and green dots of light in the darkness, probably from the standard-issue radio transmitters and other equipment in the command post.

The battle downstairs was like a pot of boiling water, fiercely turbulent. Not only was there continuous gunfire, but there were also successive explosions. The echoes reverberated off the walls of the hall, making them unusually loud, and even through his military boots, Linen could feel the floor vibrating. It was in this complex soundscape that Linen heard the only Russian phrase he could understand so far: "Hands up, surrender!"

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" someone shouted in German.

Hearing this voice, other German soldiers might have felt despair, but Linen demonstrated a momentary ability for reverse thinking. He charged onto the landing, facing the hall directly, and lifted his assault rifle, which already had the infrared flashlight activated on the stairs. Stepping his left foot forward and planting his right foot back, he leaned his head to the side, focusing one eye on the infrared sight. Nearly twenty bright-colored figures became clear. At this moment, those with their hands raised or lying flat were friendly forces, while those holding weapons were systematically eliminated!