Chapter 31: The Town

"Nakst..." (German: Next)

On the southern bank of the stone bridge spanning the river, German soldiers with large ears under their steel helmets had built machine gun emplacements with sandbags and crisscrossed barbed wire at the bridgehead. They left a single-file pathway by leaving gaps in between, while two burly soldiers in neat military attire expressionlessly inspected the documents of everyone passing by, whether they were civilians or dressed like themselves.

Finally, it was Lynn's turn. Lynn casually took out his documents, which bore a one-inch black-and-white photo and the name "lynn.gaeger" written on it, along with some words and numbers indicating his unit and rank. From his attire and insignia, he appeared to be an honorable "grunt" of the Waffen-SS, namely an assault trooper.

The soldier standing in front of Lynn had a prominent hooked nose and a slightly exaggerated pointed chin. His beard was cleanly shaved, but he seemed to have overlooked the nose hairs protruding from his nostrils. Clad in a freshly laundered shirt, he looked somewhat comical, but Lynn had no intention of mocking him.

Flipping through Lynn's documents, the soldier muttered a word with a questioning tone: "Dänisch?" (German: Danish?)

This was precisely the situation Lynn had imagined. He didn't want to be mistaken for a spy by his own people due to a language barrier. If that were the case, it would be even more unjust than Dou E! However, before he could respond, the soldier swiftly returned his documents with a rapid motion, without even a nod of clearance, and his gaze shifted straight behind Lynn, mechanically stating, "Nakst!"

This sudden turn of events left Lynn feeling somewhat frustrated. "Butcher" was still behind him. He calmly walked forward through the gap in the barbed wire. Although the machine gun emplacements on both sides of the sandbags had their gunners chatting in the sunlight, they were not far from their machine guns, and their eyes occasionally glanced over here. Obviously, they still harbored some wariness towards these German soldiers who were no better off than beggars. The submachine gunners on duty were in a similar state.

Perhaps due to his intimidating appearance, "Butcher" passed the checkpoint without any questioning other than showing his documents. Soon, he caught up with Lynn. He muttered something under his breath, but poor Lynn could only feign ignorance and admire the "scenery." The stone bridge, about thirty meters long, arched in the middle and dipped at both ends. The stone surface barely accommodated two carts side by side but it was uncertain whether heavy tanks could pass through. The bridge stood about three meters above the river, with the riverbank covered in white snow, except for the clear water flowing in the center, shimmering under the sunlight, with colorful round cobblestones at the bottom.

Beyond the bridge was the main urban area of ​​the town. Although there were some houses on the southern bank, they had all been requisitioned by the garrison and temporarily converted into defensive positions. Some roads and even vegetable gardens were mined. Most of the houses on the northern bank still retained their original appearance. The pointed-roofed houses with stone exteriors reminded Lynn of the first village he encountered in the game "Resident Evil 4." However, the presence of German officers and soldiers here dispelled any sense of gloominess reminiscent of the game.

Although machine gun emplacements and sandbag defenses were also set up on the northern side of the bridgehead, the German soldiers on duty there did not exhibit the same tension and restraint as their southern counterparts. They carried rifles or submachine guns on their shoulders, some chatting with each other, some kneeling and writing something. Between the two houses near the bridgehead, a small-caliber anti-tank gun was deployed, seemingly aimed at the underside of the bridge. Seeing this scene, Lynn speculated that the garrison had already placed explosives under the bridge piers. The shallow river could not stop Soviet tanks, but when they passed through the riverbed, they would be in a low-lying position, which was not conducive to leveraging their speed and firepower advantage and made them vulnerable to the garrison's "overhead attack" tactics. Therefore, seizing the only bridge nearby still held significant strategic importance for them.

"Hey, Solt!"

Just after crossing the bridge, "Butcher" waved his hand and shouted to the left front. Lynn followed his gaze and saw a figure who looked like he had rolled in the mud getting up from the steps in front of the house. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a tall and thin comrade from the same combat unit, with a white bandage tied around the middle of his right leg, forming a sharp contrast with his dirty uniform.

Although "Butcher" saw his lost comrade, he did not hasten his pace. He walked straight to the tall and thin man, muttering something, and glanced at the man's right leg. The thin man replied in a low voice, with a helpless expression on his face, shaking his head regretfully. On the steps in front of this house, there were about a dozen wounded German soldiers sitting or lying down, some with bandages wrapped around their heads, some with bandages on their arms. There were also two others with leg injuries like the thin man, but there were no military doctors or medics here, nor were there basic facilities of a field hospital.

Anyway, Lynn couldn't understand a word of what "Butcher" and the thin man were saying, so he simply took off his Mauser rifle from his shoulder, leaned it against the wall of the house, and looked around. Many houses in the town were damaged to varying degrees, probably not spared from the attacks of Soviet bombers. At this moment, many German soldiers were gathered here. From their clothing or the emblems on their helmets, some were from the Waffen-SS, and there were also many soldiers from the regular army. Although tired, disheveled, and stained with dirt and blood, some uniforms had several tears, but apart from rolling up their sleeves and loosening their collars, they still tried their best to maintain military bearing. To Lynn, these details were all reflections of their quality!

Just as observed from a distance, the streets in the town were relatively narrow, but the stone-paved roads were full of historical flavor. There was not a single tank, assault gun, or heavy anti-tank gun visible in the town. Several carts pulled by livestock were parked along the street, with soldiers either unloading goods or placing wounded soldiers on them. In addition to those dressed in uniforms, there were a few civilians sitting on the doorsteps or balconies of houses, watching the busy soldiers. A very few were chatting with soldiers. The quality of these civilian clothes varied, but most of them were over sixty years old, with skin wrinkled like "old bark." It seemed that the young people had either joined the army to defend their country or evacuated to the rear early, leaving only these elderly people who were inconvenient or unwilling to leave their homes in their twilight years. Their fate awaited a decision: either die directly in the flames of war or accept life and death under the rule of the new occupiers.

In a moment, one of the four-wheeled carts pulled by two horses finished unloading all the goods. It was driven by an old German veteran who looked about fifty years old, wearing a sailor-style cap. The cart rolled towards this direction and eventually stopped in front of a residential building. The wounded soldiers spontaneously got up and helped each other to the side of the cart. The old soldier got off the cart and went to the back, lowering the wooden board at the end of the carriage and assisting the wounded to climb aboard. Lynn counted and found that a total of 15 wounded soldiers, including two heavily injured ones lying on stretchers, eventually boarded the small cart. The tall and thin man, one of the few familiar faces to Lynn, also got on the cart last. Waving their arms in farewell, Lynn felt a kind of indescribable sentiment, even to himself.

Parting ways with his companions, "Butcher" led Lynn towards the town center, but they weren't just strolling around. Turning a corner, Lynn suddenly heard a crisp "ding-ding" sound. They walked another twenty meters or so and arrived at a shop that resembled a blacksmith's workshop. Inside, an old-style furnace was burning, and several men in gray uniforms were busy with their respective tasks. The oldest man, with gray hair, held a pair of tongs in one hand and a hammer slightly smaller than a fist in the other. He was tapping on a piece of iron, not with excessive force, as commonly seen in movies. Although the color of the uniform he wore was also "German gray," its style was noticeably different from the German military uniforms adopted after 1935—there were two rows of parallel buttons on the chest, typical of the Napoleonic era. In fact, the overcoats worn by the German military during the Weimar Republic period still retained this traditional style.

Standing at the entrance of the shop, Lynn noticed a pile of rifles, submachine guns, empty rocket launchers, and helmets inside. It reminded him of the soldiers he saw collecting weapons and equipment while stationed at the front lines. Against the wall, about twenty or thirty rifles and several rocket launchers were neatly arranged. Although they didn't look brand new, they had been repaired and could at least alleviate the weapon shortage for the beleaguered German soldiers.