Chapitre 162: Chapter 161 Majestic Atmosphere
A building that was originally seven or eight stories high collapsed, leaving debris piled up to four or five meters high. Lynn instructed Wolfroom and the others to stand guard below while he climbed up to find a concealed observation position that wasn't necessarily at the highest point. He took out the pocket-sized binoculars given to him by Bach and calmly and patiently observed the street across the road.
Although the Soviet forces had already reached the last barricade on the eastern bank of the Spree River, battles were still raging in large parts of the eastern Berlin. Through the binoculars, the flickering lights between the buildings represented explosions from artillery shells and grenades, while the dim red dots moving through the rubble formed a dynamic starry sky, with dense clusters representing galaxies, surrounded by vast areas of pure black void.
Following the rough route of the medics retreating with Bruck, Lynn quickly found an area near where they had previously ambushed the Soviet troops with a higher level of activity, indicated by the flashes of light from the "galaxies" generated by the combat. The sounds of gunfire and occasional explosions could be faintly heard, indicating that the side attacking from a distance had more ferocious firepower.
"Where are you, Marcus, Carl? This is really getting complicated..."
Muttering to himself, Lynn regretted allowing the two inexperienced privates to leave the unit. By protecting them, he had inadvertently exposed them to potential dangers of solo missions. However, there was nothing he could do now but try to rectify the situation as much as possible.
After observing for a while, Lynn finally climbed down the rubble, looking at his subordinates below with the same expression of confusion and distress. With a tone of self-blame, he said, "The situation doesn't look good. We'd better find them as soon as possible!"
"It's not easy to find two people in such a battlefield!"
Wolfroom responded objectively, having served in the armed SS units for over a year, although not quite a veteran in peacetime, the brutal battles on the Eastern Front had catalyzed his experience. From their previous conversations, Lynn had realized that this soldier had far more combat experience than himself and had accumulated a considerable amount of conventional warfare knowledge and skills. So, he asked in a tone of seeking advice:
"Any good ideas?"
However, Wolfroom simply shook his head and said in a tone common among gamblers and aspiring adventurers, "Let's just rely on luck!"
"Guess we have no other choice!" Lynn looked apologetically at Noah and Bruhl, the anti-tank gunner seemed to have already put his life and death aside, his expression unusually calm, while Bruhl seemed particularly nervous at this moment.
After hesitating for a moment, Lynn asked him, "Bruhl, your battery... it's out of power, right?"
Bruhl hesitated for a moment and replied, "Yeah, completely out!"
"Then, how about this, you take my gear and head back to the bridge. If we can't make it back before the defenders blow it up, you cross the bridge alone, and we'll find a way to swim across later!" Lynn said as he handed over the battery box he was carrying along with the assault rifle. Although he didn't say it explicitly, Bruhl quickly caught them.
Stepping forward, Lynn whispered to him, "If we don't meet again tonight, find a way to escape from Berlin tomorrow! The city will only hold out for a few more days at most before it falls, and those who stay behind will become Soviet prisoners, and Germany will surrender within half a month. If possible, take your family and head south, preferably out of the country!"
Hearing this, Bruhl's expression was somewhat strange. He looked at Lynn with an incomprehensible gaze, opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.
"Good luck!" Lynn bid farewell to Bruhl with a cheerful attitude, turned around, grabbed the metal box of anti-tank rocket shells from Wolfroom, and pulled out the shotgun from his holster, running towards the area where the gunfire was most intense nearby.
Noah followed without hesitation, while Wolfroom glanced strangely at Bruhl before picking up his assault rifle and following suit.
Left behind, Bruhl stood still for a while, looked down at the night vision equipment left by Lynn, sighed, and turned away without looking back.
Meanwhile, on a side street called Kamansa in the eastern part of Berlin, two German soldiers wearing M42 helmets and pea camouflage uniforms each leaned against a corner of the wall. Across from them was a broken wooden door, resembling the gate of a bar in American Westerns, only partially intact, with several tears and holes, and only half of the door frame remaining. Outside the house, the sound of gunfire sounded particularly clear, mixed with chaotic footsteps, and occasionally, rough and low voices could be heard. A little further away, the roaring noise sounded like an old tractor plowing the fields.
"Marcus, how's your injury?" The slightly immature voice was filled with nervousness and fear, deliberately lowered to sound almost like the buzzing of a fly.
"All... not too good!" The gunfire outside sounded like popping beans, making both of them hold their breaths. When the footsteps gradually faded away, the other voice spoke again, "Hey, Carl, listen to me, you go first. If we can't find the captain, just head west back to the city and find a way to meet up with them!"
"You're crazy, Marcus! How could I leave you alone here?" The tone was like that of a young man questioning his friend's disregard for a girl they were about to meet—a fresh-faced beauty, but her father was a burly boxing coach.
"But my leg..." The voice, originally full of frustration, suddenly became playful, "Carl, I'm really tired and just want to sit quietly here. If the Soviets find me, I'll yell 'I surrender'! Then, I think they'll take me to a POW camp for treatment!"
After a moment of silence, the younger voice said, full of concern, "Does it hurt a lot?"
"Yeah, it hurts, really hurts! So... Carl, don't let a bullet hit you. It's the most miserable thing in life!" The soldier, huddled in the dark corner, said, while taking off his helmet and wiping the sweat from his hair, suddenly feeling cool drops of water on his face. Looking up, he could see the yellowed night sky directly, as the entire roof had been blown off, revealing the night sky.
"Is it going to rain?" The tone was as relaxed and natural as discussing the weather before going out. Then, he said to his companion, "Hey, Carl, hurry up! While there's still a chance! Let me try to bandage my wound with the bandages. It's going to hurt, so I might get a bit irritable... Carl, go!"
Reluctantly resisting his inner fear, the soldier who stood up adjusted his helmet and let out a sigh much heavier than his age, then, carrying the weapon that had miraculously survived this time—a vintage MP38 submachine gun, he walked out of the house through the broken wall, stumbling over the rubble on the ground, fortunately without making much noise, and quickly got up again. Glancing back at the dark house, where nothing could be seen, he felt the urgency of the gunfire and explosions around him, and with difficulty, he moved away, gradually disappearing into another dilapidated street lined with broken buildings and rubble...
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone