Chapter 12: The Scavenger

After five consecutive dives and strafes, the Soviet fighter finally pulled up and flew away, leaving devastation around the road. Harried by just one aircraft, the surviving German soldiers looked disheveled, their eyes filled with endless sorrow. They silently aided the wounded or searched among the scattered corpses for any survivors who might still be alive. Two signalmen were injured or killed, leaving only one portable radio, which was now rendered useless by the bombing. The situation appeared dire.

Although Lynn was fortunate to emerge unscathed from the air raid, he couldn't find joy in it. His mind was in turmoil. If the purpose of combat was not killing but survival, then what was the value of staying alive? Knowing that this war was undoubtedly lost, was it necessary for him, an ordinary and insignificant member of the German camp, to continue to persevere?

Lost in these questions, Lynn was suddenly tapped on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. As he realized the familiar face belonged to the "Butcher," he managed a wry smile without much thought—a bitter taste lingered unspoken.

Surveying the grim scene around them, the "Butcher" wore a grave expression. When he turned, Lynn noticed a three-centimeter-long bloodstain on his right cheekbone, the wound still bleeding. The blood, coupled with his indifferent expression, made him appear even more resolute and unyielding.

Speculating that the "Butcher" might not have realized he was injured, Lynn pointed to his cheek and then touched his own right cheekbone. The "Butcher" wiped his cheek with his hand, seeing the blood on his fingers, but remained unfazed, shouldering his submachine gun and heading towards the road.

Watching his retreating figure, Lynn fell silent.

Before the next batch of Soviet aircraft arrived, the German soldiers hastily resumed their march. Although the officers didn't organize them into formation, the soldiers maintained a semblance of order in their simple column. However, lacking armored vehicles and a significant portion of their troops, and with many wounded needing assistance, the atmosphere within the unit was despondent and oppressive.

With the radio damaged, the unit temporarily lost direct contact with the rear command. After consultation, the officers did not issue new orders. The unit continued along the road, and after about half an hour, they reached a dilapidated village. The empty trenches around the village suggested that the defending troops had evacuated voluntarily. The chaotic tire tracks in the snow around the village indicated the passage of Soviet tanks. After a brief inspection, the officers signaled a halt in the village to reconnoiter and plan their next course of action.

After marching nearly three kilometers, when the soldiers heard the order to rest, they sat down in the nearest dry spot they could find, drinking water and eating bread. Lynn sat next to the "Butcher," the wound on his cheekbone now naturally staunched, the bloodstains left untouched had turned black, giving him a somewhat grim appearance. Perhaps sensing Lynn's gaze or for some other reason, the "Butcher" turned to speak. Lynn, feeling helpless, pointed to his ear and shook his head, pretending that his hearing was still impaired. The "Butcher" didn't say much after that, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Though there were only a few left, he didn't hesitate to distribute them to his subordinates, keeping only one for himself.

For health reasons and to save money, Lynn hadn't smoked since graduating from school, and he had traversed the gates of hell several times by now, shedding ordinary worries long ago. Taking the cigarette offered by his comrade, he lit it with a match from another, inhaling the acrid smoke. The unfiltered cigarette, reminiscent of those seen in his father's hands years ago, was indeed as rumored—irritating to the throat with a strong odor, somewhat akin to horse dung. However, after a couple of puffs, it became less offensive.

Amidst the smoke, Lynn suddenly remembered the saying, "A real man dies on the battlefield and returns wrapped in horsehide." Originally filled with heroic and generous sentiment, it now seemed somewhat desolate in this context: what significance did it hold for a commoner from a peaceful era in a foreign warzone?

Drawing heavily on the cigarette, Lynn's mind was consumed with thoughts. Absentmindedly, he burned his lip, hastily wiping it, which elicited laughter from those around him, even the usually stoic "Butcher" cracked a smile, a rare sight.

Having endured the test of fire and steel together, Lynn longed to jest with his comrades in arms, but the language barrier remained a hurdle—unlike protagonists in the time-travel novels he had read, he hadn't inherited language proficiency, nor had he learned it by chance. Reflecting on missed opportunities during university to join a German language course, he regretted his decision to forego the chance, thinking study abroad was beyond his reach.

Regret or resentment were futile; in such a situation, a Chinese-German dictionary would be invaluable. He resolved to seize any opportunity to study during rest periods, realizing that he might not become fluent quickly, but could gradually address some communication issues. Otherwise, spending time here for too long would leave him relying on others' conversations to grasp only a few words.

Lost in these thoughts, Lynn suddenly saw two soldiers who had been sent to scout to the north sprinting back at breakneck speed, waving frantically. If they had encountered their own comrades, they wouldn't be waving so urgently, Lynn surmised. The gestures of one soldier seemed to suggest that something was approaching from that direction, urging them to flee. Lynn's heart sank—could it be that the Soviet armored units had received intel and were making a surprise return?

As if on cue, a tank barrel "extended" from the hilltop at the end of their line of sight, followed by the turret and body of a tank—the unmistakable sloping angle of a T-34!

After the first T-34 appeared, the second and third quickly followed suit. They had traveled at most three kilometers from that hill, well within the range of the 76.2 or 85-millimeter tank guns.

Just as a German captain shouted towards the west, the Soviet tanks opened fire. The German soldiers who were temporarily regrouping around the village immediately panicked and fled, but where could their legs outrun the artillery shells? In just four or five short seconds, the Soviet shells whistled through the air, and although their firing on the move wasn't very accurate, hitting the general area posed no difficulty. Three shells landed separately to the north and west of the village, and the immediate impact of the explosions sent two unfortunate soldiers flying backward, their helmets flying off, while flying shrapnel injured several others. At this point, the German officers were unable to exercise their command, but fortunately, the soldiers still followed the last order to move westward—although this wasn't away from the direction of the Soviet tanks, it provided them with an opportunity to return to their own controlled area.

Lin remembered a story of two people encountering a bear. The one who ran faster than his companion naturally escaped the bear's attack. At first thought, this principle seemed applicable to the current situation. Facing the Soviet tank battalion, the remaining three hundred or so German officers and soldiers had no chance of withstanding the enemy's attack in a positional battle or head-on confrontation. Frantically running seemed to be the only way to survive, but the reality was different. Due to their previous position being relatively far back, Lin and the group of soldiers he was with ended up at the rear. The artillery shells fired by the Soviet tanks kept whistling down, and explosions, one after another, could at any moment claim the lives of some or even all of them. However, the sergeants ran forward without looking back, calmly serving as the rear guard for the soldiers. Although the rear soldiers were extremely frightened, encouraged by their example, they still slowed down and maintained a certain distance to facilitate the sergeants' maneuvers. Such a sense of responsibility and character filled Lin with emotion once again—if only the Nationalist soldiers had half the quality of these German officers and soldiers, would Nanjing have fallen?

Emotions aside, in such a situation taking the initiative to be at the rear of the main force, Lin knew that he and the people around him would be in great danger. Holding his rifle, he ran while glancing sideways. In his line of sight, there were more than ten Soviet tanks, each carrying infantry, and it seemed that trucks carrying infantry were following behind. They quickly left the road and directly crossed the fields towards their direction, bringing the distance between the two sides to less than two kilometers. Although ordinary machine guns were still out of range, the high-explosive shells fired by the T-34 could harvest the lives of German infantry like picking grass.

Watching the soldiers around him continuously fall under the Soviet tank's artillery fire, they happened to reach a slightly elevated position above the ground again. The tall and thin company sergeant major shouted, "Locke-Vorwärts-Dann!" (Hold-Fire-Advance!)

Other sergeants in the rear guard unit, including the "Butcher" with two stripes on his arm, immediately echoed the same command to their respective soldiers. Seeing their comrades rushing to find fighting positions nearby, Lin guessed that this was the command for "stand and fight." One cannot afford to be proud, but one cannot be without backbone. As an Oriental who was born in peacetime and grew up in a society dominated by money, Lin was introverted and not good at socializing. Without any unexpected events, even if he worked diligently, he would only lead an ordinary and mediocre life. However, these nightmare-like three days completely changed his outlook. In the face of blood and fire, life and death, the brilliance and ugliness of human nature were fully revealed. Casting aside cowardice, overcoming fear, awakening in endurance and suffering, transforming in battle and resistance, Lin was quietly undergoing changes he dared not imagine. Although there was no heroic sacrifice at this moment, being able to die gloriously as a member of this brave, tenacious, and resolute army left no regrets in his heart.