Chapter 44 What's Going On?

Flares appeared in the sky above the north bank of the river, meaning Soviet snipers on the opposite bank could hide in the darkness and hunt targets at will. Outside the German positions, where could one find any moving figures?

Just a few minutes ago, Lynn had to huddle in a foxhole, but fortunately, he had now transferred to a trench. After a bloody and brutal close-quarters battle, the trench was now filled with bodies. Those still alive could find firearms, ammunition, first aid kits, and various valuable or invaluable items here. Of course, they could also move along the communication trench connected to the trench and transfer to the position behind the villa. Taking advantage of the cover provided by the building, they might even get a sip of field broth.

In just a moment, Lynn found dozens of rifle bullets on the helmets of several fallen soldiers and picked up an MP40 submachine gun with a loaded magazine. Lynn's speed in "getting rich" exceeded his own imagination. However, the strong smell of blood made his head dizzy, and his stomach churned. How could he have the heart to continue searching for treasure? With a Mauser rifle on his back and a submachine gun in hand, he walked along the trench towards the right flank of the position. Along the way, he kept glancing at the ground, afraid of suddenly discovering that the familiar figure of the "Butcher" had turned into a cold corpse. The light here flickered, and many bodies lay face down. Lynn didn't have the courage to flip through each body wearing a German uniform. stumbling, he finally arrived at the rear position after seven or eight minutes. There were no scattered bodies in the trench here, just dark yellow mud in the pits, and there was no need to be careful about stepping over bayonets.

Looking at the villa from the rear, except for the windows, which were all shattered by artillery fire, the yellowed walls covered in climbing vines and the arched porch remained intact. There were several black holes on the pointed roof, but the main structure was still there. From this direction, the sniper's hiding place had not been directly destroyed.

"Lynn... Hey! Lynn!"

Seeing the "Butcher" sitting in the trench, Lynn also saw him and heard his name being called. The familiar voice carried an element of excitement. Lynn hurried forward. At this moment, the "Butcher's" face was cleaner than it was in the last battle, but his left forearm was wrapped in a bandage, and blood was seeping from the white gauze on the outside of his arm, indicating that he had been wounded by an enemy bayonet.

Seeing his only surviving subordinate from the original team once again narrowly escape death, the "Butcher" grinned somewhat awkwardly. This expression, although awkward, was the most genuine expression of surviving a disaster. Unfortunately, Lynn couldn't understand what he was saying. He could only pretend to smile casually, with tears in his eyes, the tears that men least wanted to shed.

Death would be a relief. Hovering on the edge of life and death, hesitating, agonizing, watching one familiar face after another lose its color, perhaps this was the greatest pain in the world.

Seeing that Lynn had not suffered any new injuries, the "Butcher" clenched his fist with his right hand and lightly pounded his chest, nodding repeatedly. Lynn looked around and saw that there were many people with bandages on their arms or without military uniforms carrying wounded soldiers from the front trench in front of him. These soldiers were mostly covered in blood, some missing arms and legs. Some of them would probably not make it to the field hospital, but apart from low groans, there were no desperate cries for life or death. Such scenes highlighted the sorrow and heaviness after the fierce battle.

Most of the lightly wounded soldiers, like the "Butcher", had only been hastily bandaged. Without more reserve troops coming up, they were still waiting for deployment. They would rush to the most dangerous frontline without hesitation at the command of the officers. This army was still facing the prospect of defeat. Is it fate or chance? Lynn was still seeking answers.

"Zie... Zie... Ande... Zie!" (German: You, you, and you!)

When fingers pointed in front of him, Lynn raised his head in confusion, not knowing what was happening. To his surprise, standing in front of him was "Junker," the German military officer who almost got into a fight with the "Butcher" in the town for illegally firing a gun. He was the commander of the temporary combat unit Lynn was in. What did he mean by pointing at himself?

The fingers seemed to linger in front of Lynn for half a second, then, after skipping over the "Butcher," turned to another soldier, and each person pointed to stood up automatically.

"Kommen Sie mit!" (German: Come with me!)

After saying this incomprehensible sentence to Lynn, "Junker" raised his chin as usual and turned around, walking away with his hands behind his back in the direction opposite to the riverbank. The soldiers who were pointed at automatically lined up and followed. Although Lynn was still puzzled, he had no choice but to follow suit. Before leaving, the "Butcher" quickly took a submachine gun magazine from the pouch in front of him and handed it to Lynn, whispering something — Lynn guessed it was something like "Take care." Unable to reply, Lynn took the magazine, nodded silently, and followed the queue of more than ten people.

Away from the bloody battlefield, walking on the fresh rural road, Lynn was full of doubts about the mission of this small group of soldiers. Looking at these guys in front of him, tall, thin, short, fat, they didn't look like mere laborers. Could they be going to become suicide squad members?

Thinking of this, Lynn's mind first flashed scenes from movies where Japanese soldiers charged bare-chested with bayonets, their heads wrapped in diaper-like cloth, crashing into enemy gun barrels. Then came the image of a "human bomb" covered in explosives rushing towards the enemy. Lynn didn't want to be any of these. His resentful emotions were directed towards "Junker," the leader of the team. Damn guy, was he deliberately seeking revenge?

Even though he gritted his teeth, Lynn couldn't just go up and beat him up right now. After all, the dozen or so soldiers around were all skilled fighters, and traditional military concepts would make them control any act of insubordination in the first place. And then? Maybe "Junker" would take advantage of the situation and beat him up on the spot, which would be a light punishment. Maybe he would be executed on the spot as a traitor.

With a mind full of wild thoughts, Lynn followed the soldiers into a birch forest. These deciduous trees had straight trunks like sentinels. It was midwinter, and the leaves had fallen, but the snow covering the branches still made their canopies look like big umbrellas. The forest at night seemed like a huge maze, with only the creaking sound of footsteps in the snow and the eerie sound of the wind in the ears. After walking a long distance, they finally saw three half-tracked armored vehicles. They were actually parked on the edge of the forest on the other side. "Junker" led the soldiers through the forest just to take a shortcut.

With a mind full of wild thoughts, Lynn followed the soldiers into a birch forest. These deciduous trees had straight trunks like sentinels. It was midwinter, and the leaves had fallen, but the snow covering the branches still made their canopies look like big umbrellas. The forest at night seemed like a huge maze, with only the creaking sound of footsteps in the snow and the eerie sound of the wind in the ears. After walking a long distance, they finally saw three half-tracked armored vehicles. They were actually parked on the edge of the forest on the other side. "Junker" led the soldiers through the forest just to take a shortcut.

Seeing these ordinary armored vehicles without turrets, Lynn couldn't guess the purpose of this trip, but he vaguely felt it was to carry out some kind of special mission. After meeting with the enemy officer, "Junker" left without saying much. The once clear starlight appeared dim after passing through the icy branches of the birch trees. The officer, almost as tall as "Junker", seemed to be enveloped in a black shadow from head to toe. Due to his fair skin, his face looked oddly conspicuous. With a sense of inexplicable fear, Lynn approached and noticed that the officer's helmet and combat uniform were identical in style to those of the ordinary Waffen-SS, except for the unusually dark color. He carried an MP44 slung over his shoulder, and the assault rifle had something resembling a large flashlight attached to it. More precisely, it was a special sighting device with a "dual-layer structure": a large lamp head at the top and a larger-than-normal sniper scope-like device at the bottom, each connected to something behind the officer with a wire.

The officer waved to the soldiers brought by "Junker" and said in a magnetic, deep voice, "Eng - Zug!" (German, Get on the car!)

Just as the officer made a gesture to turn around, Lynn saw clearly what he was carrying on his back: a square box resembling a wireless transmitter, with no antenna on top, and the two wires extending from the "flashlight" on the assault rifle connected to the bottom of the large box.

Could this be the ultimate technological equipment for ground forces during World War II — an infrared night vision device?