Nine Songs of Anti-Japanese War

"The battle situation is still not progressing."

Berlin curled up in a trench and wrote the first line of today.The clean place to stay is very small, and he can only lean his back against the wooden plank, draw his knees to his chest to support the diary, the pages of the diary are brittle from the cold wind, and they are still trembling under the pressure of his knees and his hands He whimpered slightly.

He stared at the words he had just written and hesitated for a moment.Is using "or" too much?He had only been in town for the fourth day.It was only the second day of fighting with Admiral Paulus' Sixth Army.In the days before his arrival, Bremen's panzer companies had made persistent attempts to break into the city.On the prairie on the way to Stalingrad, the armored iron flow that the German army was proud of once again failed to meet expectations, forcing the Soviet army to retreat for more than 200 miles; There was no flat ground in the city for a long time, and every two steps forward, the tank hit a ruin that needed to be removed. Behind the ruins were hidden countless eyes of the Soviet army that were burning with hatred, and their hands that were ready to move. □□.When he came to the front line to make a conclusion, Bremen resigned to his fate and withdrew the Tiger tanks that they had gone through a lot of hardships to break into the city through the anti-tank trenches.

"It's just a stopgap measure," he told Bremen. "Street fighting requires manpower and guts. Armored troops won't be of much use here. I'll call this battle to an end as soon as possible and leave it to you to sweep Grozny." oilfield."

Bremen replied: "Yes. I will wait patiently and wish you good luck. I am sorry that you did not come at a good time. We have been entangled in Stalingrad for too long. It is time to end..."

That's right, there is nothing wrong with using "or".He had come here to end a campaign that had dragged on for too long, and it hadn't progressed until the fourth day, too slowly.

It's time to end.To end this battle that was purely consuming blood and flesh, to end the century-old grievances between him and that person, this nation and that nation.With such a mentality, he stepped into the dilapidated streets and alleys, stepped over the lingering buildings, listened to the howling of the cold wind and the sad song of the heavy snow, and opened up all his senses to look for the traces of the enemy commander every day when he was hungry and cold.However, from sunrise to sunset, and into the dark night, all he heard all day long was the mixed sonata composed of gunfire and human wailing, and a breath that seemed to be near and far away.

It was really not a good time for him to come.There is a lack of clean water and food is even more insecure.Although the continuous flow of young people could barely plug the gap in the rapidly draining troops, the supply was seriously lagging behind. The second lieutenant of the company he came to had to slaughter his horse yesterday for them to share.The second lieutenant had a lot of affection for the beast that had followed him all the way on the Eastern Front, holding the horse broth in his hand, he hesitated to take the first sip, until he heard the laughter and jokes of the soldiers around him, and then he drank the broth in one gulp.

Even this malicious laughter is diminishing with each passing day.Cold, hunger, injury, disease, every physical pain and mental depression are depleting the abnormal humanity of these officers and soldiers.Paul, who laughed the loudest at the second lieutenant, shot and killed his teammate who was oncoming from the corner when he was searching the factory this morning. Although this kind of thing has happened frequently, this comfort is obviously not enough to pull Paul out of the long sluggishness that followed.He suspects that if the battle continues to be stalemate, the people around him will not behave like human beings in a month.It is enough to have him as a non-human here, there is no need to pull up a company——

He stopped writing.The second lieutenant bent over to him and asked, "What are you writing, a letter?"

"No, it's a diary."

"Diary. You are amazing." The second lieutenant nodded with a suddenly realized expression.He was about twenty-five, and he could vaguely tell that he must have been a jovial chap in the old days.From the previous fragmentary conversations, Berlin learned that he was born in a traditional Junker landlord family, and went to the army school step by step according to his parents' expectations. Before finishing his studies, the war broke out, and he wandered around North Africa before being driven to the Eastern Front.He knew Berlin's identity, but he was not overly afraid of him, and everything he told him was true.

Berlin didn't understand the relationship between keeping a diary and being "great."Before he could ask, the engine of the bomber started buzzing, gradually covering half of the sky from near to far, and then the sounds of bombing and explosions on both sides of the Volga River filled the space between the sky and the earth.The second lieutenant gave a loud roar, and the whole company held their guns, ready to take advantage of the bombing force and set off at any time.

When the noise subsided, the second lieutenant frowned, and suddenly said, "I hate Stuka. Its death wings, its swooping bird shape, and its propeller that turns like a madman, I hate it to death."

"They belong to our army."

"Yes, of course. He has repeatedly made great achievements in Spain, and scared the enemy and their people to death on the western and eastern fronts. But—" the second lieutenant looked at the dust rising in front of him, and said bitterly, " I've had enough. Get it over with."

Finish.The lieutenant and the soldiers behind him, they were also calling for the end.

But is it really over?

Someone told you it was an endless journey.

In the spring of 1933, the whole of Germany fell into a grand carnival ceremony. 【Note 1】This ceremony was held in Berlin with a particularly festive atmosphere, with burning, shouting, impassioned speeches and the laughter of young people sweeping through the streets and alleys—who can say that this was not an established event? festival?

After their first professor of political education delivered his inaugural speech, he led a mighty group of students to the opera square, arrogantly holding his chin like a rooster showing off its feathers.Sitting on the balcony, Berlin, through the drizzle, heard the excited speeches of the student representatives, and the clumps of flames rising with every word they uttered: "The first speaker: against class struggle and materialism Doctrine, defense of the national community and idealism! I burned the books of Marx and Kautsky.

"Second speaker: Against depravity and immorality, in defense of discipline and the ethics of the family and the state! I burn the books of Heinrich Mann, Ernst Glaeser and Erich Kastner .

"The third speaker..."

He drank the cool beer sent from Munich, looked at the brilliant lights of the firework show, but was not so interested as to listen to the end.He can recite those reasons back and forth, such as opposing political indifference and pacifism, opposing falsified history and tarnishing great men, opposing Jews and democratized journalism, opposing the literature of selling patriotic soldiers in World War I... Munich sitting opposite him listened intently, and he I don't know which piece of cloud my mind is flying to.The ninth and last speech, he finally listened to most of it: "...Defend the awe and respect for our immortal Germanic national spirit! Fire, swallow the books of Tushalsky and Ossersky! "

Cheers.Then, as scheduled, Dr. Goebbels will appear on the stage, with his eloquent announcement that the German spirit has been restored to purity, and that the raging fire will illuminate the new era of national socialism.

"The performance of the students tonight is a little hysterical." Munich commented, "The overall effect is good. Young people carry the future of the country. If they can take the lead in removing obstacles, there is nothing the country can't do. What do you say, Berlin?"

"Hmm..." He stood up and looked down at the street. The first team carried flags on their shoulders and held torches in their hands, and they had marched downstairs accompanied by officers of the Death Squad. "Not just removing obstacles, they're rebuilding themselves through fire. You can only create one self, you can't inherit the previous one, and that's what they're trying to do."

With his back to Munich, he didn't see it, but he could imagine the triumphant smile on the woman's face: "That's right. You can only create...you can't inherit." Her tone suddenly rose, "That's why we only took the first step step! And there is an endless journey ahead!"

He heard the cry in her heart.Behold, the rotten republic has fallen, and the phoenix of a new spirit is rising from the ashes of the book!As the capital, you should do your duty to warn those who do not cooperate in Weimar, and to persuade those ignorant people in Cologne and Heidelberg who are immersed in the dream of the past and refuse to wake up, stop rejecting the dawn of the new era!

Downstairs, the first team was broken up by the stormtroopers who followed up later. The tune of the originally orderly march changed. A nondescript poem roared in the accompaniment: sharpen the long knife on the well fence,

pierced the Jews with long swords,

The blood would flow thick and fast.

our liberty to the jewish republic

snort!

……

Hang the Hohenzollerns up the lampposts!

Let the dogs roam,

Sooner or later they have to fall.

……

They yelled hoarsely, and when they yelled to the back, their voices trembled as if they could not bear the rough use, and the laughter sandwiched between the verses seemed to be crying for no reason.His eyebrows twitched slightly when he heard the word "Hohenzollern", and then he laughed at himself for his superfluous sensitivity. 【Note 2】Munich smiled in relief and said, "Ah, your old surname was Hohenzollern... I didn't remember it for a while."

"Don't even think about it," he said.

"Well, don't pay attention to them anyway, 'Blood and Soil' literature is always a little bit rude. [Note 3] How can I say that the Hohenzollern is also the foundation of our blood for so many centuries, it is rude to make ridicule into the poem Or Wiesel's march is calmer, but not lacking in passion and appeal."

The opening of Munich and the roar of the stormtroopers all fell into the night.The night at midnight was as thick as a cloud of black mist, and sparks burst out of the black mist.Light and darkness, joy and sorrow, excitement and uneasiness, sound and image, stirred and condensed into a large strange mixture in the black mist of the night.

Some people can't see reality clearly, can't recognize ideals clearly, and can't get rid of old dreams.And this dark and bright, silent and noisy mixture surrounded him, Teutonic, Brandenburg, Königsberg, and finally the scepter in his hand, indistinctly shadowed in this chaos, like a dream.

The dream was too thick, making the beer in his hand tasteless.

They stepped on the broken walls and tiles, dodged the machine gun fire by instinct, and rushed into the first floor of the factory.

He understood the anxiety in the second lieutenant's heart.Compared with his seemingly illusory target, the second lieutenant has more imminent troubles: his number is decreasing day by day, and most of his establishment has become a bluffing empty position. The wounded will not be able to be rescued, even if they come back, there is no way to treat them. .The city has long been an ambush circle set up by the Soviets with mines and guns. The ground cannot rest at all. The temporary bunkers dug inside are blessed with the enemy's large-caliber artillery, and it can rain mud and rocks to kill people at any time... The only thing that can Fortunately, because of the cold weather, the rotting wounds of the wounded have not yet grown maggots.

Just in front of the position they repeatedly fought for, in the half-remained factory, Soviet workers were still restlessly repairing weapons, and even producing tanks on the damaged assembly line.It's ridiculous, civilians and soldiers have come to this icy hell, and there is no difference at all!But they didn't even have the mood for irony. If they had time to distract themselves and mock, they might be crushed to pieces by the tracks of tanks driven by Soviet workers who hadn't had time to paint them in the next minute.

They attacked many times in the previous two days and one night, and finally weakened the defense line guarding the periphery of the factory, and were able to break into it today.Occupied the first floor, but it was difficult to move up. The dense firepower lay across the stairs and chopped every German soldier who dared to break into pieces.Taking advantage of the chaos, he slipped through the passage and got under the stairs, close to the wall, the deafening gunshots and the wall dust falling non-stop.

Then there was a rare second of silence, and the opponent's firing speed slowed down.

Apparently after more than two days of fighting, only some inexperienced recruits remained on the defense. They didn't know how to preserve their strength and postponed the opportunity to expose their weaknesses until the latest.The company's firepower was fully fired, and Berlin also jumped out from under the stairs unexpectedly, and stepped up to the second floor with two steps of leather boots.The light machine gun burst out with high-heat flames, like an efficient harvester, cutting away the lives of the Soviet army.The uncooled corpses of the enemy wobbled down in any direction, hung on the guardrail for a while, and then fell headfirst into the courtyard. The sound of their heads hitting the concrete floor during the fierce battle was completely swallowed up. , this noisy world has no time to pay even a broken mourning.

The companions rushed to the roof, but he heard a suspicious sound coming from a certain corner, and stayed to search room by room.When he kicked open the third door, he found the source of the sound. The childish-looking soldier convulsively pointed his gun at him at the moment the door collapsed, and he kicked away the opponent's magazine effortlessly. The empty gun was twisted over the neck again and knocked down.In the wild struggle, he held the too slender neck with one hand, and suddenly came to his senses.

It's a female soldier.Just a girl, not even a woman.

Berlin is not so pretentious as to waste compassion on an enemy on the battlefield because of one gender.But his motherland and himself are too used to throwing women behind the scenes, and they are naturally insulated from war in their minds, so when he realized it, he was somewhat shocked.Staring at the girl's crying face, he loosened his fingers slightly.If this soldier is willing to surrender, maybe it will be very useful, and keeping her can also be considered.

But then the hand that was slender than her neck grasped the broken bricks on the ground, and greeted him in the face with a strength she probably never experienced in her life.

my child.

He suddenly remembered the voice of a woman.On the way to the Eastern Front, he watched an interrogation of a guerrilla. They couldn't pry the female guerrilla's mouth open, so they arrested her mother and threatened to persuade her to surrender.

My child, said the woman whose hair turned white that night.If you were a man, wounded in the war, and tortured in your heart, I would still want you back...but you are a girl.

If you fall to that point, I would rather you die.

They all thought that following the woman's refusal was a declaration of loyalty to the motherland, but it turned out to be such ruthless words.Amidst the unreasonable gazes, the woman calmly concluded: "Go ahead, I won't try to save her."

Her eyes were dry, without any tears.

Berlin turned his head, dodging Brick by a hair.Seeing the despair on the girl's face, he seemed to understand the woman's heart suddenly.It also seems that he had understood a long time ago, and he just picked up what was lost.

He lifted Walter and pulled the trigger, shooting her through the heart.He jumped away in time before the blood splashed on his body, and the muscles on her face stiffened before she had time to relax, as if showing a hint of a smile.

A crisp death was the best gift to a soldier who had probably been sent from the East Coast to die within 24 hours. 【Note 4】He felt that he was doing the right thing.

Some suspect there is no future ahead of your journey.

The needle of the phonograph turned slowly, and the melodious sound of the Brandenburg Concerto softened his long-silent living room.Vienna refused to sit down, and stood in front of the phonograph until time seemed to stand still, and then said softly, "I'm here to see you off... I'm sorry for what happened last time. I wish you a safe journey on the Eastern Front."

"Last time" happened in February.If he hadn't mentioned it, Berlin would have forgotten it. After all, Vienna hadn't clearly expressed dissatisfaction, and he didn't bother to judge people's hearts based on speculation.That afternoon, when the snow had not yet melted, Vienna leaned on the sofa with a calm face, and the sunlight reflected on his irises through the curtains added a strange heat to his cold eyes.He told him about the writer's death. 【Note 2】He barely recalled the writer's name.The author's best-selling book used to be in everyone's hand at school, but now he needs to think about it.Oh, it was 5, the same year that the books were burned, after the Congress caught fire, [Note 1933] the adaptation of his novel "The Burning Secret" appeared on the posters at the entrance of the theater.Said to be a delicate story about an affair, it was immediately banned due to that delicate title.After that, his book entered the drug cabinet of the library, and he was far away from Europe, and there was no news.

His response was: "He took the drug and died by choice." A suicide needs no sympathy.

"I voluntarily choose to die because the pain in this world is far greater than death..."

"Then his death is even more relief. Don't feel sad," he reminded the other party, "don't forget, he is a Jew."

"He loves Austria. He loves me too, especially when I was still in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, who was infinitely optimistic and full of vitality..." Vienna turned his head to him, and then quickly buried it, "I disappointed him again and again. If At that time... four years ago..." [Note 7] His voice twisted like a tangled rope, as if he was under great pressure, "I..."

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for Vienna to say what he expected.If you really hate it, just say it.

Vienna, however, said nothing more.They bid farewell in silence.

Now he came here in a hurry and vowed to see him off. "In the face of war, I am a worthless man," he said sincerely. "Then I will say what a worthless man says: May you return safely, victorious or defeated."

The other party moved his lips and was about to continue, but was cut off by his question: "Do you think the future is not optimistic, Vienna?"

"This is your voluntary choice. Even if there is no future, you will forcefully create a future."

His heart tightened suddenly, and he accidentally sighed: "Sly answer..."

"I don't judge right or wrong, I just know that you will shed your last drop of blood for this choice." The other party still avoided talking.A look of melancholy or teasing flashed across his face for a short time, and he only heard that sentence, which surrounded him on his journey for a long time and refused to disperse: "It's rare...as strong as you, you will complain and sigh at me... "

The company spent the night in the occupied factory.The factory with badly damaged walls and shattered windows is as cold as the outside, but it is safer than a trench and more comfortable than a bunker.

There is a soldier named Dim in the team. Every day he has a little free time, he talks to people about his family's one-acre three-cent land, who will cultivate it after he leaves, and whether his wife and children have enough food.A few days ago, he was carrying letters from home and refused to open them. After capturing the factory tonight, he was finally able to read them with peace of mind. Within a few seconds, he suddenly jumped on his feet and became very annoyed: "She is having an affair! She told me that she was having an affair with someone else. The man is done!"

The letter paper he was waving almost hit a crowd of people's faces. "Dim," although most people don't care about the trivial matters of eating and drinking, there are still some people who retain a little human curiosity, "what kind of man makes her dare to abandon you who are fighting in a foreign country?"

Dim gave the letter a cursory glance and gave a piss.The phlegm solidifies as soon as it hits the ground. "French, still a prisoner of war! . . . We occupied France in six weeks, those bastards .Dim was tired of scolding alone, and suddenly poured his anger on his comrades: "I know you don't care, you look down on me! That's right, I'm just a country bumpkin, I don't understand anything, and I ran to this god damn place to die , the fields are no longer planted, and the wife is gone..."

Seeing that his saliva was about to splash on Berlin's face, the second lieutenant sternly stopped: "Shut up! Didn't you see the point where you changed your patrol?" Seeing that he was about to cry, the second lieutenant added, "Don't cry .Crying in this temperature will destroy your eyes, understand?"

Then the factory was as dead as night.Soldiers hugged their guns and shivered in the long-overdue winter uniforms and blankets, and the bitter cold wind accompanied them to sleep.

Berlin woke up after a short sleep.He rubbed his eyeballs, hoping that they would not be frozen stiff, and while rubbing, the eyelashes covered with hoarfrost fell out hard.He was obviously very tired, but even if he closed his eyes, he didn't feel sleepy.In this factory with air leakage on all sides, the sound of the wind made it difficult for him to sleep.

He simply slipped out of the factory quietly.If you can't sleep, do something else.He was stronger than a human after all, and it wouldn't be a big deal if he didn't sleep all night.

It was snowing again outside.Thin and dense white spots swirl in the lightless night, without sound or breath.

A hundred meters away is a four-story outbuilding of the factory.It was more severely damaged than the main body, half of which was blown up at the beginning of the battle, and it looked crumbling at any time. People could not live in it, and its functions could not operate. It had no strategic value for a long time.

But he took a step forward and walked towards the building that should be empty.

The fine snow fell at his feet, condensed and did not melt; the fine snow fell into his hair, quietly melting.

He looked into the darkness.

The Slavic emperor walks on the falling snow.The steps were slow, silent and breathless.

Feeling his gaze, the other party stopped.

"Here you are," he said.

"I'm here." He replied.

He wanted to laugh in his heart: he accidentally woke up from the cold at night, occasionally couldn’t fall asleep again, occasionally saw snow falling from the sky, accidentally walked to an abandoned building, and accidentally found Moscow by following his footprints. Both are fully armed by chance, and have no companions around them by chance.

He was going to laugh.Because this must be God's will, and he witnessed the moment when it was fulfilled.

Man cannot defy God, but can only carry out this will to the end.

It was unclear who fired the gun first, and as the first spark was ejected from the mouth, the war between the two began after an exchange that was not an exchange.There is no need to save strength, and it is useless to face such enemy tactics; there is no need to waste words, the whistling of bullets is the best background music.

The MP40 was trembling in the crook of his arm. The high heat of the gun barrel penetrated through the layers of thick clothing and reached the skin. It was a temperature that could almost burn people, but it was unconscious in the severe cold. No, it can't neutralize the cold, but the human body Numb to it.Severe heat and severe cold are one, and opposite means lead to the same result.Opposite each other and understand each other, but they can never shake hands and make peace.

like you and me...

"boom!"

Moscow broke the trunk of the poplar tree behind him with bobosha.The tree trunk carried it hanging on the branch. The scorched black body of the Soviet army or the German army could not be distinguished. Without any muddy water, it fell straight and heroically, breaking the wall on his right.

Just as he dodged the sweeping branches, the bricks on the wall came crashing down.Only sporadic street lights were still working in the darkness. He used the reflection of the lights on the snow to identify the direction of the collapsed wall, and immediately fell down and rolled several times to escape.

Moscow's bullets were on his heels, and he narrowly dodged it, hiding in a dead corner behind the tree trunk. The magazine of MP40 only has a capacity of 32 rounds. Assuming that the magazine was also full when Moscow met him, the opponent would have twice as many bullets as him.He estimated that the bullets were almost used up, enduring the tearing pain on his back and the smell of burning corpses at his feet, he took out a replacement magazine.

He took out half of it, and a series of unexpected gunshots exploded above his head.He jumped back, blood gushed out from the right hand holding the magazine, and flowed to the cuff, congealing into fresh blood clots in an instant.He dodged a shot aimed at his palm, only wounding the flesh, and there was no chance of picking up the magazine that fell to the ground.

Moscow, who was standing on the fallen tree trunk, let out a snort, and threw away Bobosha, who was emitting green smoke.

"I've run out of bullets." He looked innocent, "You also change the gun? That's only fair."

As if in response to his words, through the thick night and the frozen Volga River, singing came from far away from the east bank.The singing seemed quite abrupt, but he wasn't surprised at all.Every night before, as soon as he heard the singing from the east, he knew that the enemy was performing again in their dilapidated auditorium.If Moscow hadn't come here, he would have been one of them, and together with Stalingrad and his officers and soldiers, sat in the auditorium in the least ragged military uniform, and gave their actors the warmest applause.

He dropped his jaw at Moscow, threw away the useless MP40, and set up the kar98k.On the opposite side, the other party also put on □□□.

Then fire again.

He moved between the ruined walls, and the sound of death exploded in every corner.He no longer counts the number of spare bullets he carries.I am afraid that the following battles will be pure consumption, and there will be no possibility of replacing the magazine.

The singing continued, as if they were a pair of dancers performing with their lives in the ruins, and it faithfully continued the accompaniment to the end.Only by the intermittent and ethereal timbre, he recognized that it was "Ivan Susanin", the first national opera of Tsarist Russia, which told the story of a peasant who sacrificed his life for the motherland. It was premiered in St. Petersburg in 1836.His memory clearly told him that when he visited Russia with the emperor and prime minister after the reunification of the motherland[Note 9], it was this play that St. Petersburg invited him to watch...but at the beginning, it was still called "Allegiance to the Tsar".

"It's great that you like it." St. Petersburg stood in the theater where the crowd had cleared, and the velvet curtain behind it concealed all the past. "Russian theater is still very immature, but we have finally taken the first step... You may not know that the author of this play studied and studied in Germany and has achieved today's achievements. On his behalf, thank Germany, Thanks you."

As he spoke, St. Petersburg watched him with such concentration that his thanks were not reduced to hypocritical politeness.His pupil color is very rare, like violets in full bloom, extremely dangerous and extremely beautiful, whoever is lucky enough to be stared at by them will feel as if they are in heaven and hell at the same time.

He had never seen such a pure, unadulterated purple from anyone else.

And now, St. Petersburg... no, Leningrad.You called that ridiculous name, and you went straight to purgatory that I can't touch.Even though the ground under my feet is like hell, how can I get close to you?

If you stand in front of me again, what you spit out of your mouth is not a thank you, but a vicious curse.You will prophesy that I will be defeated and die badly, and you will declare that my journey will lead to betrayal.Because not only do I want to remove you from the world, but I also want to erase your elder brother.Either from the flesh, or from the spirit.

But I have no regrets.

After all, what do other people's opinions matter to me?I'm just following orders and serving my country.Whether the future is brilliant or bleak, whether the hands are clean or dirty, is this a place where my will can reach?

Munich, Vienna, St. Petersburg... let you prophesy.

I'm here to fight, and I just want to be here to fight.

The bullets of □□ and □□ are also finished.Only this time, Moscow wasted faster than him, so he wounded the opponent's arm with the last two bullets.It's a bit of a shame not to get hurt, but at least they're even again.

He drew his bayonet and rushed.Moscow had just injured his arm and made it difficult for his shoulder blades to move freely. He jumped back into the building, relying on the intricate terrain made by the rocks to dodge for a while.He patiently searched layer by layer, and just stepped onto the roof when the dagger pierced the wind, and the tip picked out a pale arc in the cold night.

He had been on guard for a long time, parried the dagger with the side of the bayonet, and at the same time swept forward with his foot.Moskva dodges hastily, but has no time to catch his straight punch in the stomach.This punch was extremely fierce, not only knocked Moscow down to the ground, and dropped the dagger, he even felt the pain in his viscera under the punch.Ordinary people were already too painful to move, but Moscow was obviously still able to hold on, and immediately raised his knees to kick him with red eyes.He failed to kick Berlin completely, but the restraint on the left side of his body was relaxed. He touched a half-burnt iron pipe and swung towards Berlin.

"Bang!"

There was a muffled sound with three points of crispness.The iron pipe hit Berlin's back, a joint that had been scarred by broken glass and stones when he dodged the bricks.Berlin was forced to loosen the grip on the other half and adjust his posture.Moscow also stood up in embarrassment. He didn't have time to pick up the dagger, so he simply confronted him with the iron pipe.

He stared at the iron pipe and the dirty snow and dirt on the other side, and couldn't help laughing: "Using local materials like this...I'm going to be moved by your perseverance!"

Moscow raised the corners of his mouth, and there was only a clear murderous look in his voice: "You are the same, my respected friend."

He looked into his blue eyes.He stared into his blue eyes.then--

The last corner of the mantle of sanity peeled off.Hatred welled up in my heart and filled my brain.The killing intent occupies the limbs, and there is no hindrance.Defense is completely abandoned, only offense, offense, and offense.

"No one is self-sufficient, no one is an island." 【Note 10】

The bayonet intersects the iron pipe.

"Everyone is a piece of the mainland, and they must serve the mainland."

Snowflakes fell on the intersection, cuddled tightly, and were torn into pieces by the sudden withdrawal of the two.

"That's a piece of land, that's a cape, that's a manor"

The roof of the building that is about to collapse has become a life and death field where blood and sweat are wasted, and the whole world is in the square inch.

"Once the sea washes away, Europe will become smaller."

They belong to Europe, yet they hate each other so much.If you don't fight with all your strength, even death can't rest in peace.

"Whether it's yours or a friend's"

You understand me best.You can't understand me the most.

"Anyone's death is my reduction"

so i hate you.I hate you so much, my dear friend.

"As a member of the human race, I grow old with the living beings."

This hatred originates from the depths of the soul, the most natural needs of human beings.

"For whom the knell is tolling, I don't know at all"

In hatred I long for your death, spiritual or physical.No reason needed at all.

"Not for Youming, it is mourning for you."

I will mourn you.Then your death, in a sense, will also become a part of my death...

The long-term physical confrontation and weapon disadvantage finally dulled Moscow's offensive, and Berlin took advantage of the situation to attack the vital point.Although the German army seldom used cold weapons in the war, he did not dare to be unfamiliar with them and did not expect them to be useful in such occasions.The bayonet fluttered, drawing a messy trajectory, and each trajectory ended in the iron pipe barrier.However, the reaction of the iron pipe gradually lagged behind, revealing a gap——

The bayonet cut through flesh and blood, and across the leg bones.Moscow staggered back a step, Berlin pinned him to the edge of the roof, with the point of the knife pressed to his throat.

Berlin lowered his head and once again met his gaze.The black sweat on his forehead melted into the red blood, and before it was frozen, it dripped onto the frost-covered eyelashes of the other party.

Moscow raised his face and asked calmly, "What do you want to do? Cutting my throat won't kill me."

"Isn't that clear?" He also answered calmly, "Let's knock you out before taking you back."

"You are too bad. A capital without an avatar loses power."

"It's a sound strategy, and I should have adopted it when I attacked your city. What's your opinion now?"

"...No more. 'The Germans don't lose a one-on-one battle'—this sentence is really not arrogant."

The other party looked away and no longer met his gaze.

He thought that Moscow had resigned to his fate, but the other party suddenly held the bayonet blade with his hand and broke it open, allowing the gurgling blood to emerge from his palm, spraying on the snow at a speed that even the cold could not stop.At the moment when Berlin was trying to judge whether he would use his hands or feet in the next step, his neck was thrown back violently, and he hit him with his forehead.

There was a whirlwind.Berlin covered his forehead in amazement and jumped up: "You can't escape by doing this—"

Moscow turned over with a sneer, broke away from his hand, and jumped over the guardrail from the roof.

All that was left was the sound of the strong wind.He sprinted two steps and leaned on the guardrail to look down, and a group of cavalry suddenly appeared at the bottom of the building.In the faint light of the sky, the pure white snowflakes set off the mane of the war horse fluttering in the wind, which is thrillingly magnificent.

cossack.

The nomadic herds who had joined the White Army and the Red Army in this city and had suffered so much came back. 【Note 11】They come back not to lament yesterday's failure, but to fight for tomorrow's victory.

The leading cavalryman with a familiar face was pulling Moscow onto his horse.

He gritted his teeth angrily: "Moscow, Stalingrad