Chapter 3: A New Mission

In the foul-smelling camp, warhorses with snorting noses maneuvered through rows of crude wooden barracks. Each iron-shod hoof sank deeply into the foamy mud, emitting a nauseating "squish" as it lifted out. If one were to describe the living conditions in this camp in a single phrase... it would be impossible. If this were hell, then even the most dilapidated slums in the world would seem like heaven.

Victor had long abandoned any thoughts of finding a clean spot to settle. His once-black high boots had lost their color, now resembling uncolored brownish-gray pigskin boots.

He held the reins of his warhorse, occasionally soothing its visibly agitated state by stroking its neck. Even the warhorse disliked this place; the air seemed to carry a stifling odor that unsettled it.

On the other side of the horse, Anelina tip-toed effortlessly through the muck. Floating in the murky water, filled with leaves and feces, posed no obstacle to her; she had grown accustomed to the filth, perhaps considering it a part of her life.

At this moment, Anelina's entire attention was focused on the horse's saddle. Two hemp bags hung on either side of the saddle, one of which had a hole revealing half a bright red apple inside. The exposed apple was wedged against a protrusion under the saddle, swinging back and forth with each movement of the horse, its juice already seeping out from the impacts.

Watching the apple bump around on the saddle, Anelina clenched her lips tightly, her delicate hands balled into fists with visible veins. Her gaze shifted between Victor and the apple; whenever he wasn't looking, she swiftly reached out to push the hemp bag away. But no sooner had she taken a few steps, the bag would find its way back...

It was noon, lunchtime. Thin columns of smoke rose from the decrepit camp, blown by the southern wind, spreading throughout the camp like mist over a river on a morning dawn.

In less than twenty minutes, the two and the horse had reached the edge of the camp. Ahead lay a vast expanse of overgrown grassland, with a two-meter-high barbed wire fence about fifty meters away.

The wire fence was dilapidated, with some areas already large enough for a person to pass through. Clearly, such a fence did not effectively contain anyone. However, the Shepchenkovo Police Headquarters was not concerned about prisoners escaping; without food and valid identification, anyone who fled would inevitably be captured and brought back.

Victor led the warhorse to the side of a shed by the road, tying the reins to a round log on the side of the shed.

In front of the shed's entrance, a middle-aged man with a beard, looking like a beggar, sat on a wooden stool, staring blankly at him. He didn't get up or greet him.

Anya walked over and squatted in front of the middle-aged man. She covered his hand, which was covered in dirt, and gently rubbed it, whispering something softly. The middle-aged man seemed to come to his senses—it was her father, a weak and somewhat mentally unstable Belarusian man.

"Anshka?!" From the side of the shed, a thin face peered out of the small window made of wooden slats. Excitedly, she shouted, "Mom, Anshka's back!"

With this shout, the partially open door of the shed creaked open, and a middle-aged woman in a torn skirt rushed out. Behind her, there were two children as skinny as bean sprouts.

The woman rushing out of the house saw Viktor, who was unloading two bags from the horse's back, at first with a smiling face, but suddenly changed to a fearful expression. The two children behind her, like startled squirrels, quickly shrunk behind the woman.

Viktor pretended not to notice and walked to the entrance of the shed, placing the two bags in the corner of the wall. Then he turned back to the horse, untied the reins, mounted swiftly, and galloped back along the same route.

On his way back to his camp, Viktor saw two soldiers with rifles standing smoking near the entrance of his barracks. On the platform of the porch, there was also a middle-aged man in civilian clothes.

Viktor galloped over and dismounted in front of the two soldiers.

"Comrade Viktor," the middle-aged man on the porch stood up and greeted him, "good afternoon."

"Comrade Lieutenant Anufri," Viktor loosened the reins and saluted the middle-aged man, saying.

The middle-aged man's name was Anufri, a lieutenant, also from the Shepchenkovo Police Headquarters, but in a different department from Viktor's. He was the deputy head of the "Political Intelligence Division."

The so-called "Political Intelligence Division," the full name being the Political Intelligence Investigation Department, was responsible for counterintelligence and anti-spy work. In the past two years, the authority of this department had increased significantly, moving towards the direction of the secret police. In fact, it was the embryo of the People's Committee of the Interior's secret police.

"Come on, Comrade Viktor, I have a new task for you," after a brief chat, Anufri put his arm around Viktor's shoulder and said, "You probably won't have much free time this afternoon."

Viktor nodded and followed him into the barracks.

"You know the situation in Shepchenkovo very well, Comrade Viktor," inside the barracks, Anufri stood by the only wooden table. He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the table, pressing it with one hand, saying, "So this task should and must be entrusted to you."

Viktor looked down at the paper Anufri was pressing down, only seeing a few letters peeking through his fingers, likely a list.

"Yesterday, the criminal investigation department received a tip-off," Anufriy continued, "the report lists several deeply embedded individuals who are suspected to be associated with the Sechyak guerrilla group. They have allegedly been providing intelligence to the Sechyak guerrillas."

The current Ministry of Internal Affairs consists mainly of nine departments, including not only the Police General Directorate but also entities like the Traffic Police, Fire Department, and Criminal Investigation Directorate. Indeed, in today's Soviet Union, the Police General Directorate and the Criminal Investigation Directorate are relatively independent departments.

As for the Sechyak guerrilla group, it operates in the forests around Shepchenkovo and is the largest guerrilla force in the area. Its members are primarily Belarusians, Ukrainians, and Poles who receive support from the Polish government, seeking what they call Ukrainian independence.

"Comrade Captain Bogdan hopes that you can root out these vermin," Anufriy finally moved his hand off the note, "and execute them immediately. Yes, the three-person tribunal has already sentenced them. Your task is to execute them promptly."

Captain Bogdan is the current head of the Shepchenkovo Police General Directorate and a member of the Shepchenkovo Three-Person Tribunal.

The so-called "Three-Person Tribunal" is a special institution that emerged two years ago specifically for the Great Purge. This tribunal holds considerable power, responsible for the entire process from arrest to trial and sentencing, with one member each appointed from the Police General Directorate, the Prosecution System, and the Judicial System.

Shepchenkovo naturally has its own "Three-Person Tribunal." They can sentence any implicated individual from imprisonment to execution without needing to apply to higher authorities or even provide concrete evidence.

Viktor picked up the note and glanced at it. His lips twitched slightly as his gaze passed over one of the names, but his expression remained calm, showing no signs of concern.

"Shall we proceed now?" Viktor shook the note and asked calmly.

"Yes, we proceed immediately," Anufriy nodded, "assemble your team now and execute the mission."

"Yes, Comrade Anufriy," Viktor folded the note and tucked it into his uniform pocket, saluted again, and then turned to leave.

Soon, the shrill whistle sounded across the camp. The policemen who had been considering a nap hurriedly left their barracks and gathered in the center of the camp.

On the grassy field in front of the open space, Viktor unfolded the list once more, read through the names again, and then assigned arrest tasks to various police teams. According to the tribunal's orders, once captured, all individuals on the list were to be executed on the spot.

There were six names on the list in total. Viktor delegated the arrest tasks for five of them to other teams, leaving one named "Vavila Antonovich Roskakhi" for himself to handle.

Yes, just by looking at the name, it was clear that this person was Anelina's brother.

Viktor was more than familiar with Vavila. This young man, only nineteen years old, though somewhat idle and prone to unrealistic fantasies of escaping the camp, Viktor could never believe he was affiliated with the Sechyak guerrilla group. Vavila simply didn't have the guts for it.

Viktor didn't know who authored the so-called tip-off or what it contained, but he understood that in this twisted era, slander and framing were commonplace. Even though such actions brought no benefit to the perpetrators themselves, they pursued them tirelessly.