Chapter 58: No Enemies, No Reunion

Sleeping on a shelled position?

It sounds incredible, but if a person is in a state of heightened combat readiness for over 20 hours out of continuous 24 hours, no matter how much energy their body stores, it will be depleted all at once. However, Lynn wasn't oblivious to the sounds of shells and explosions on the position; he wrapped himself in a thick blanket, curled up at the bottom of the trench, with the Butcher beside him. As long as the enemy didn't attack or charge, he kept his eyes closed, whether asleep or awake. Having eaten and drunk his fill early in the morning, his body gradually warmed up, and the cold, hard ground turned into a comfortable bed. He endured until mid-morning when he finally heard gunfire and battle cries. With profound exhaustion, Lynn crawled out of the trench. He waited until the Soviet soldiers crossed the river before firing his MP44 in bursts. With 30 rounds fired, he hit at least 20 targets, yet there was no trace of joy on his face. Before the Night Warriors withdrew, they left around a hundred rounds of ammunition for themselves. During the lull in the battle, Lynn crouched under the trench, reloading his magazines, yawning as he did so, in a posture more reminiscent of an office worker killing time than a soldier in combat. After filling two magazines, loading one onto his assault rifle and stuffing another into his cool-looking ammo pouch, he rose and returned to the edge of the trench. The Soviet attack remained a grand affair, with five or six dozen tanks and self-propelled guns, which made the German armored troops envious. The German defenders on the north bank relied on the terrain along the riverbank and their limited anti-tank resources to resist. Every anti-tank gun and rocket launcher was utilized, except for Molotov cocktails, which could be used somewhat indiscriminately.

Bang... Bang... Bang...

For Lynn, who was unfamiliar with music, the crisp sound of the MP44 firing in bursts was more beautiful than any instrument in the world. In the late stages of World War II, he couldn't find a better infantry weapon on the battlefield. The M1 Garand of the US Army? It was like a stick compared to it. The Soviet "Avtomat" rifle? That was a crude and straightforward approach. The British "Sten"? Well, was that even considered craftsmanship?

After emptying a magazine, Lynn's kill list increased by at least ten Soviet soldiers, with a considerable number of casualties temporarily or permanently leaving the battle. Such astonishing efficiency was not a one-time occurrence. On the grueling and outstanding Eastern Front, many unknown German soldiers had similar performances. However, as ordinary members of combat units, their achievements couldn't be calculated in the same way as snipers, and there were no witnesses standing by to count.

In fact, regardless of the ultimate outcome of the war, they were the true backbone of the battlefield!

The fierce battle for the position lasted for over forty minutes. The resilient German army almost solely relied on flesh and blood to resist the Soviet onslaught. The combination of willpower and skill ultimately triumphed over the double advantage of numbers and firepower. Although two waves of Soviet aircraft arrived over the battlefield, they were powerless to affect the ongoing ground battle. After the battle ended, they returned to bomb and strafe, but apart from partially collapsing a corner of the two-and-a-half-story villa, their aerial assault had little effect on their own ground forces.

During the intermittent lull in the battle, Lynn didn't sleep again. Instead, he walked around the trench, collecting some ammunition for himself, then sat back in his place, eagerly studying the two "holy books" in his hands and unabashedly sparring with the Butcher. In the eyes of the Butcher, a soldier who was fluent in German suddenly buried himself in learning the most basic German was naturally curious. However, on the battlefield, all sorts of strange things happened due to pressure and fear, with units collapsing, going mad, or losing their minds. In comparison, a "deafness" in language was more acceptable, especially since the comrades had lived together for a long time and were very familiar with each other's appearances and expressions. If someone were replaced, the Butcher wouldn't fail to recognize it.

Since dawn, the sounds of gunfire from near and far had hardly ceased. However, the Soviet unit opposite, after being repelled in the late morning attack, remained remarkably calm until after lunch. Lynn, engrossed in learning language skills, didn't pay much attention to this. He occasionally thought that perhaps the Soviet armored unit he had ambushed last night happened to be sent to attack this position due to inadequate reinforcements, affecting the Soviet offensive. However, judging from the sound of the battle, the Soviets were still launching wave after wave of attacks along the riverfront elsewhere. He wondered about the situation in Horgen Town and other positions, as well as the German tank unit he had glimpsed passing through the woods last night. They were just a fire brigade on the front lines or a reserve force for launching a strong counterattack against the Soviet river crossing.

Lunch was still the same thin soup and half a piece of bread with little nourishment, though slightly better than the treatment Lynn had received in the preceding days. Yet, upon reflection, this might just indicate that the German forces could no longer retreat and had to do their utmost to hold the river line. The command even brought out the bottom of the barrel to support the front line.

Having devoured lunch without restraint, Lynn finally felt that both his physical and mental strength had returned. Amidst resting and studying, he resolutely chose the latter. Using a popular internet phrase from earlier times, it was like saying, "Why sleep long in life when eternal rest comes after death?"

Basking in the warm afternoon sun, Lynn was practicing rolling his R's with the enthusiastic help of the Butcher when he suddenly saw someone he would rather not see: "Janker." Lynn had a fairly good impression of the former Bayern Munich and German national team center forward, who had stormed the field. He had a traditional German face and a domineering presence, with his tall and strong physique and dominance on the field. Even with his relatively slow speed and rough technique, he was still an excellent attacker. The current military officer who looked like "Janker" had a similar appearance and demeanor but was thoroughly unpleasant. He barked a command in a deep baritone, and the surrounding soldiers quickly gathered around him. Lynn roughly counted that there were only about forty left from the makeshift combat platoon formed on the square yesterday, with just a few remaining. Among the ten or so soldiers who were selected to join the assault team with Lynn last night, it seemed that only three had returned to their own position. Although these casualty figures couldn't be used to measure a commander's ability, they added to Lynn's hatred for him.

Glancing arrogantly at the soldiers, "Janker" spoke in his usual tone. The first few sentences were probably words of praise and encouragement for the soldiers who fought hard. Then he roughly said something about fighting for Germany, which Lynn listened to carefully, afraid of missing any key content and being "set up" again. However, after a few hours of intensive language study, he had not yet reached a level of normal communication, and there were still a few sentences he didn't understand. Finally, this German officer started pointing at people again.

"You... and you..."

After selecting the first three, "Janker" walked slowly to Lynn and the Butcher. He clearly hadn't forgotten the two Wehrmacht soldiers who had defied him just yesterday. Lynn and the Butcher stood tall, their eyes meeting the gaze of this German military officer without flinching. His cold eyes were like two deep brown cat's-eye stones, devoid of any ordinary emotional expression. This time, he glanced at the Butcher's injured left hand and then at Lynn, who had bravely survived the assault last night. Then, with his right hand wearing black leather gloves, he pointed at the Butcher.

"You..."

"No, sir, I can still fight!"

The Butcher suddenly said loudly and, in the same motion, made a gesture of holding a submachine gun with both hands. Surprisingly, his remaining thumb and index finger on his left hand were able to grip the vertical magazine tightly. Just as "Janker" showed a hint of surprise, the Butcher stood up straight and spoke rapidly with a slightly lowered tone. At first, Lynn wasn't sure if this had anything to do with him, after all, the Butcher hadn't mentioned his name. But when "Janker" looked him up and down with a puzzled expression, Lynn realized that the Butcher had substituted himself for the person "Janker" had just selected. Was he selecting members for a suicide squad? No, the Butcher wouldn't throw himself into the fire. Definitely not!

After a moment of consideration, "Janker" nodded and pointed his finger at Lynn.

"You! Step forward!"