Chapter 145: The Doomsday Maze

The world outside the air raid shelter was a chaotic symphony of gunfire and explosions, akin to thunderous storms rolling through. The sounds of guns, sometimes intense and sometimes sparse, resembled the patter of raindrops. Despite it not being the height of summer, the endless cacophony felt like a tempest, disrupting the usual rhythms of the seasons, persisting tirelessly.

Inside the shelter, the air was heavy, the atmosphere oppressive. Resting within were around fifty to sixty soldiers from the Wehrmacht and the Waffen-SS, regardless of whether they were wounded or not. Their expressions were dull, their faces blank, resembling lost children trying to feign strength, unsure of what to do next.

Amidst this stark contrast of environments, Lynn sank into a deep sleep. After a night of intense fighting, over a dozen hours of heightened alertness, even the toughest of men would grow weary, especially when burdened with the trust and expectations of their comrades. Yet, sleep was restless for him. He saw many familiar faces in his dreams – Flynn, Jonas, and Enrique, soldiers clad in pristine uniforms, exuding vigor and vitality, standing tall and proud in formidable formations, as if awaiting inspection before heading off to battle. Before them, an array of countless tanks exuded an aura of invincibility. Who would believe that such a grand military display would ultimately lead to defeat?

Awakened suddenly by the tremors from the ground, Lynn felt as though he had slept for an entire day, yet checking his watch revealed only a little over two hours had passed.

Getting up with effort, he rubbed his heavy head. Lynn noticed that not all of his soldiers were dozing off. Sixteen-year-old "Little Carl" Techmeyer had his eyes open, a rare sight. Even more unusual, Tanker was sleeping, leaning against Carl's shoulder. Their usual roles had reversed. Additionally, Bruhl sat cross-legged, staring at his boots with a complex expression, perhaps contemplating the distance they still needed to cover or how to grease his boots.

Approaching Carl, Lynn whispered, "Hey, Carl! I'm going out to take a look. Borrowing Marcos's rifle!"

With that, he picked up the Mauser sniper rifle from Tanker's side. During the day, it offered clearer vision of distant targets compared to the infrared scope on his assault rifle.

Carl looked at Lynn wide-eyed, a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face.

Lynn attempted to give him a reassuring smile but found it difficult with the weight on his heart. Eventually, he just nodded slightly at him and tiptoed out.

As Lynn emerged from the air raid shelter, his eyes struggled to adjust to the daylight. It was still a cloudy day, with no sight of the blue sky or the sun. However, the clouds overhead were not as ominous as they had been in previous days. The booming of artillery fire echoed, sometimes near, sometimes distant, creating an illusion of being at the heart of a battlefield. What sounded like firecrackers inside the shelter could now be roughly identified as various types of firearms.

"Captain, what's going on?" Bruhl followed him out, noticing Lynn had not brought any night vision equipment. He had left his inside as well, carrying a standard assault rifle, likely belonging to either Wollrum or Bruck.

"Just getting some fresh air!" Lynn replied casually, glancing at him. Among this group of subordinates, perhaps only Bruhl, who had joined later in the conflict, shared a similar mindset. But... could he be fully trusted?

Bruhl made a makeshift shade with his hand over his forehead, squinting as he looked around, evidently oblivious to Lynn's concerns. He remarked, "What a mess! A once thriving city reduced to this. It'll take a lot of effort to rebuild after the war!"

Major undertakings often meant significant profits, but Lynn's mind wasn't focused on that. He knew that post-war Berlin would be the frontline of the East-West confrontation, rife with spies and secret agents. Making an honest living here? Hard. Playing games? Even harder.

To paint grand ambitions on the canvas of the future, the immediate challenges needed to be overcome. Lynn glanced at the collapsed buildings above the air raid shelter. While not completely obliterated like those subjected to controlled demolition, they had returned to their original state, recognizable only from the larger fragments.

"I'll go up and take a look!"

It was a simple statement, not a request for Bruhl to follow or stay behind. Lynn slung the rifle over his shoulder and climbed up the rubble. It was somewhat like climbing, relatively easier in terms of difficulty. He didn't climb to the peak but found a stable position halfway up, with some cover. The gray cloth tied around the Mauser sniper rifle's barrel and scope was a makeshift cover Lynn had fashioned during his time in Orlanienburg. Though crude, it provided some concealment.

Hearing rustling behind him, Lynn knew Bruhl had followed suit. Raising the rifle, Lynn peered through the 4x scope, easily spotting the two collapsed buildings where the anti-tank guns had been firing earlier. Their outlines had changed slightly, undoubtedly due to being bombarded by Soviet artillery for the past two hours. Lynn also noticed several spent shells scattered around them, evidence of the guns' effectiveness against the Soviet tanks attempting to breach the defenses. Perhaps the white rings on the gun barrels had accumulated to a surprising number by now!

Bruhl stopped climbing a bit lower than Lynn but this only reflected his external class consciousness. As for his inner thoughts, Lynn didn't think he was as naive as Tanker and Carl.

"Sigh... it's really intense out there! Battle everywhere!" Bruhl sighed, looking back over his shoulder. Except for a few tall buildings and anti-aircraft towers, the rest of Berlin had been leveled, resembling an endless maze of ruins as far as the eye could see, with gray-black columns of smoke dissipating or forming in every direction. Faced with this dismal scene, Lynn whispered to himself: To have a chance, one must venture out; otherwise, they would sink with this city of despair.

Turning his gaze forward, Lynn saw the advancing Soviet forces from the east towards the city center. They weren't confined to the street Lynn was observing; following the intense gunfire and frequent flashes of light, he spotted hundreds of Soviet infantrymen attacking along another street perpendicular to the barricades. They occasionally took cover behind broken walls, shooting, or advanced under the cover of their comrades, a few Degtyaryov heavy machine guns with shields and wheels were firing from behind the rubble piles a bit further away. Lynn watched, gritting his teeth, but there was nothing he could do against targets over two kilometers away in a ground battle. And that wasn't the worst part. As he watched olive-green T-34s, one after another, like toys, passing through a further corner, Lynn wished he could transform into Iron Man, using compact yet powerful weapons to destroy them one by one.

Fantasies couldn't solve real problems. Suddenly, Lynn opened his left eye, his eyes staring vacantly ahead, feeling somewhat helpless amidst the ground battle's deadlock. Strangely, while the ground battle raged, the sky over Berlin seemed unnervingly quiet. Thinking back, it had been over thirty hours since Lynn arrived in Berlin, and except for occasional reconnaissance planes flying by, there had been no sight of the swarms of Soviet aircraft that had mercilessly bombed German targets on the Eastern Front. Had they decided to take an early break?

No, of course not. Lynn scanned the horizon, the tall flak towers resembling candles on a square dining table – dimly lit individually but collectively capable of illuminating a large area. There were also numerous dispersed anti-aircraft guns and machine guns throughout the city, posing limited threats to heavy Allied bombers but a different story for the relatively vulnerable Soviet medium and light bombers. Moreover, after enduring years of Allied bombing, Berlin's defenders had constructed fortifications in the ruins, making conventional air raids less effective.

Thinking about this, Lynn's mood eased slightly. In the corner of his eye, he noticed movement. Quickly looking down, he saw a group of about ten German infantrymen rapidly advancing towards the barricades. Except for an anti-tank rocket launcher, they were armed with standard firearms. They might be able to handle Soviet infantry, but against the formidable T-34s or KV-2s?

Lynn shook his head inwardly.

Turning back, he realized their route had already been blocked by collapsed buildings. These infantrymen had likely come out from the same air raid shelter Lynn had been in earlier. Thinking about the soldiers receiving orders to mobilize, Lynn didn't want to dampen their spirits with the grim reality. He casually said, "Oh, really? Maybe they're just being sent to reinforce the defense! I saw two heavy anti-tank guns over there; they've been taking out a lot of Soviet tanks. Impressive!"

Having experienced numerous battles from Oranienburg to Berlin, the German soldiers were perhaps more accustomed to hearing pessimistic news. Even Techmeyer showed no signs of excitement. Their conversations were filled with mutual encouragement and comfort, knowing full well the dire circumstances they were in.

Returning to the air raid shelter with Bruhl, Lynn noticed that the number of soldiers present had decreased slightly. Most of his men were now awake.

"Did those soldiers receive combat orders?" Lynn placed the Mauser sniper rifle in front of Tanker. The reaction from the young private was a bit sluggish.

"Oh, Captain, a messenger came and called them just now. Seems like the frontlines are about to collapse!" Bruhl answered on behalf of the group.

Despite witnessing the advancing Soviet forces in the distance, Lynn didn't want to crush the soldiers' confidence. He nonchalantly replied, "Oh, really? Maybe they're just being sent to reinforce the defense! I saw two heavy anti-tank guns over there; they've been taking out a lot of Soviet tanks. Impressive!"

From Oranienburg to Berlin, the German soldiers, even Techmeyer, who had joined later, had grown accustomed to hearing grim news. Despite Lynn's attempt at optimism, there was no enthusiastic response from Techmeyer or the others. Their conversations were filled with mutual encouragement and consolation, fully aware of the dire situation they were in.

After just two cigarettes, another messenger arrived with orders from headquarters. Nine soldiers from Lynn's unit promptly stood up and left. As they departed, some familiar faces asked about the situation upfront. The response they received was simply, "Intense fighting."

"It's already April 26th..." Lynn calculated the date. The fall of Berlin, along with the Empire's end, felt like numbers decreasing on a ticking time bomb, and Lynn found himself tightly bound to it. Escaping even an inch before it exploded seemed almost impossible.