บท 164: Chapter 163 Arch Rival
"Captain Galgo..."
Fear, suppression, grievance, and a momentary sense of confusion and despair that had filled the heart all dissipated with this earnest call. Yet, tears welled up in those still unsteady eyes.
"Poor kid!"
Lynn sighed softly as he draped his arm over Techimel's shoulder, comforting him in the tone one would use to reassure a lost child. "I'm here! It's okay! Don't worry! It's okay!"
"Captain Galgo... It's really good to see you! Really!"
For the first time, Techimel showed such dependence on Lynn. But unlike a little girl, the seventeen-year-old boy didn't whimper in his embrace. Instead, wiping away his tears, he spoke urgently, "Captain, Marcos has been shot in the leg, but he insisted I leave first. He's still back there. We need to go save him!"
Lynn looked up and scanned across the street. As expected, the covering fire from Noah and Wolfram had drawn fierce retaliation from the Soviet forces. Shells rained down, with the ruins flashing with fire and smoke billowing. Bullets flew like vicious whips through the shattered buildings and rubble piles. In such a situation, they were barely holding their ground, let alone finding a way to cross the street to support Marcos or use firepower to cover their retreat to the other side. The remaining redemption could only be achieved by Lynn himself, accompanied by the young soldier Carl Techimel.
"Hey, Carl, listen to me. We won't abandon Marcos. Tell me about the situation when you parted ways and your retreat route afterward!"
Listening to Lynn's words, Techimel's emotions indeed calmed considerably. Describing in his own way, he said, "Marcos is hiding in a broken house, near a messy alley. It took me about ten minutes to get here, and I didn't turn much along the way!"
Lynn listened carefully to every word of this answer. Trying to accurately locate the target from such a "messy" direction and distance description was challenging, but he couldn't blame the young and inexperienced Private too much. He could only patiently tell him, "Hey, Carl, listen, although going back is very dangerous, we can't let Marcos fall into enemy hands. We must rescue him! With me here, the battle isn't as difficult as you might think, right?"
"Of course, Captain, you're invincible!" Techimel replied somewhat naively.
For the reputation of invincibility, Lynn could only smile inwardly. He then checked the submachine gun in Techimel's hand, ensuring there were still some bullets in the magazine. Confirming that the safety was off, he returned the gun to the Private, instructing him to "only shoot on my command." Then, he turned and looked at the environment behind the wall with a mirror. There were no signs of Soviet soldiers nearby, nor were there bullets whizzing by from close range.
"Carl, let's go!"
As he said this, Lynn turned to look at Techimel. The tension before the battle, combined with the urgency and determination to rescue a comrade, showed on the young soldier's face. It created a complex and strange expression.
Without further ado, Lynn moved decisively and swiftly to the side, crouching as he moved forward, wielding two guns for a sweeping vigilance. He whispered for Carl to follow. Carl indeed followed closely, though his submachine gun occasionally bumped against his pouches and belts, making a faint but distinct "clink" sound. Lynn couldn't help but be speechless. He didn't have time to correct it on the spot and could only hope that the Soviet soldiers' hearing would be dulled in this chaotic battlefield.
Passing through several dilapidated buildings and a devastated residential area, Lynn found a concealed pile of ruins. Waiting for Techimel to crouch down beside him, Lynn remained vigilant, observing their surroundings. He then whispered, "Which way do we go next?"
The young and nervous Private peeked around for a while before saying in an uncertain tone, "We should continue straight ahead, Captain!"
No sooner had he spoken than the sound of submachine gun fire erupted nearby. The rapid "swooshing" sound was unmistakably from an mp38 or mp40, weapons rarely used by Soviet soldiers in the late stages of the war. This was followed by the rough, robust sound of the Degtyaryov light machine gun, indicating not only the submachine guns but also one or two formidable Degtyaryov machine guns firing.
Lynn pressed against the rubble, his right hand blocking Techimel, urging him to lean back. With his left hand still holding the shotgun, he picked up the handle of the mirror, slowly raising it upwards. The sudden start and end of this gunfight in the ruins was followed by the sight of a person lying near the collapsed building, just about ten meters away. Within arm's reach, two shadows approached cautiously, heads bowed and rifles at the ready.
Realizing how close the enemy was, Lynn quickly lowered the mirror to avoid reflection that might expose their position. He continued holding the shotgun in his left hand, tightly gripping another shotgun that he had already cocked with his right hand. He kept blocking Techimel in front of him, silently telling him to remain still. Moments later, he heard incomprehensible low conversation from nearby. The two Soviet soldiers who came to inspect the dead German soldier's body likely paused to check the corpse before calling their comrades to continue forward. Lynn held his breath as the tension in the air peaked. After what seemed like an eternity, the heavier and more varied footsteps gradually faded away. Lynn breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that the Soviets had begun their initial battlefield cleanup.
After enduring for a while, Lynn picked up the mirror again to survey the surroundings. Except for the potential Soviet snipers hidden in the abandoned buildings, there were no signs of Soviet soldiers within a hundred meters. Leading Techimel to move in the opposite direction of the Soviet soldiers they had just encountered, Lynn did so with extreme caution, aware that this was an area now under Soviet control. Their movements resembled those of mice foraging at night, as they had to be vigilant against potential predators' attacks in this hazardous area. As they barely passed through a hundred meters, they were startled by the sound of mechanized engines. Lynn saw two Soviet tanks moving through the ruins, one after the other. The Soviet tank crews sat proudly in the turret hatches, accompanied by many infantrymen on the tanks. Dozens of regular infantry followed alongside the tanks, and among them were flamethrower troops carrying fuel tanks on their backs, forming a search net spanning fifty to sixty meters wide. Occasionally, they fired at the abandoned buildings where someone might be hiding or sprayed flames into open manholes. In this process, one or two desperate German soldiers launched counterattacks, but their bullets were so weak in the face of the Soviet's overwhelming firepower. After two shots, the battlefield once again returned to the noisy dominance of the Soviet side.
Hiding in a not-so-concealed position, Lynn prepared himself mentally to rise up or die at any moment. Techimel was equally nervous, to the point where his teeth were chattering. Thankfully, it was still late at night, and the advancement of artillery fire and illumination shells regained control of the darkness over this ruined area, making the crawling bodies and scattered objects around them not too conspicuous.
Finally enduring through this batch of infantry-tank coordinated dangerous enemies, Lynn stood up feeling his legs somewhat numb and weak. He saw Techimel struggling to support himself as well, feeling a pang of sympathy.
In this district already under Soviet control, the two cautiously moved forward in the dark, adopting an attitude of "not giving up on uncertainty." It took them nearly an hour to cover the distance Techimel had retreated in about ten minutes. Seeing Techimel pointing to a row of connected dilapidated houses, Lynn cautiously moved forward, but suddenly heard a noise like a scuffle. Surprised, he quickened his pace, coming to the first broken house on the right. Peering through the broken window, he saw in a small courtyard-like space, a group of Soviet soldiers assaulting several people cowering in a corner—beating them with rifle butts and kicking them with their boots, appearing quite brutal.
This didn't look like war; it was more like street thugs brawling!
The people being beaten were huddled together, making it difficult to discern their exact numbers. They seemed defenseless, and what troubled Lynn even more was that most of these unarmed people were still wearing German steel helmets.
If it was due to the strong resistance of the opponents on the battlefield causing the loss of their comrades, then the Soviet soldiers beating these German prisoners at least seemed "merciful" compared to directly shooting them. Lynn further observed the situation in the courtyard and thought if he had a chance to take out the Soviet soldiers here, he could save these unlucky comrades. Suddenly, he heard a sinister laugh that seemed familiar, but in this situation where he couldn't see the laughing person, he had to move to the next room on tiptoe. Through a hole in the wall, he looked over and was shocked: the guy sitting on the steps getting his wounds treated by a medic was none other than the Soviet Colonel Matveyev whom he had captured earlier! How could he be here?
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