Chương 109: Chapter 109: Silhouette
Entering another hall through the narrow corridor, but it was not the final audience hall. There were already eight soldiers standing here, from their uniforms, some of them served in the national defense army, and some belonged to various units of the Waffen-SS. Among them, the most impressive was a young armored corps officer, with a melon-seed face, dressed entirely in black, with a calm expression, piercing gaze, and already wearing an Iron Cross on his chest.
Lynn guessed that he was a top-notch armored ace, and his record might have already surpassed many veterans!
Looking at the others, most of them were young lieutenants, sergeants, and soldiers, with only the highest-ranking army major looking slightly older, but no older than 45. They varied in height and appearance, and their unit insignia were also different, but in the solemn atmosphere, Lynn felt that each one of them appeared quite composed and steady, with a spirit forged by the blood and fire of the battlefield, far beyond what ordinary civilians and ordinary soldiers could possess.
"If I could recruit these elites," Lynn thought to himself, "after the war, I could start a high-end mercenary company! With the quality and abilities of German soldiers, we could outshine the French Foreign Legion, render American private military companies like Blackwater and Frontier Services unnecessary, and even compete with the special forces of various countries. Just the thought of it is incredibly awesome!"
They waited in place for about a quarter of an hour, and another group of soldiers entered through the corridor. There were three groups in total, adding up to exactly twenty-four people, two dozen!
After a while, the double doors on the other side slowly opened again, and a handsome, well-built Waffen-SS captain stepped out. His appearance and demeanor should be considered the ideal standard of a German soldier, with precise pronunciation, vigorous spirit, but deliberately lowering his voice in such an environment:
"Gentlemen! It is an honor to inform you that the Führer will personally receive you, along with Field Marshal Keitel, Chief of the High Command, and General Hausser of the Waffen-SS. Now, please inspect your attire carefully. Make sure the Führer sees your neat appearance and lively spirit!"
Lynn casually adjusted his collar, feeling a suppressed excitement inside: this was the first historical figure he had ever seen with his own eyes, a living historical figure!
"Hey, buddy, can you help me with this?"
When this cautious voice came from behind, Lynn was slightly surprised. Turning around, he saw it was the Waffen-SS lieutenant who had spoken up for him earlier, struggling to button up his collar with his left hand, but his movements seemed clumsy.
Of course, Lynn wouldn't refuse a simple request. After buttoning up the collar, he gave the other person a friendly and relaxed smile, and as he turned around, he glanced down. No wonder, the entire palm of the lieutenant's right hand was wrapped in white gauze. At this moment, Lynn suddenly remembered "The Butcher," the Waffen-SS soldier who was always fearless on the battlefield. In terms of courage and willpower, he was probably lacking, but the difference was having the appreciation and help of Eric and Bach. Thinking that among millions of German officers and soldiers, he and the other 23 people around him might not be the top-notch, but they were all truly fortunate.
Leaving only a minute for the soldiers who were about to be received by the Führer to tidy up, the captain spoke again, "Please line up in order of rank, with the Wehrmacht in front and the Waffen-SS behind!"
Compared to the "pig-headed major," the captain's serious but not imposing tone was more acceptable. Lynn stood calmly at the back of the line, but not at the very end—there were two tall ordinary soldiers behind him.
Perhaps to ease the tension, the soldier behind him whispered, "You're Lynn Galgo, right? I'm Hans Lenkst, from the 'Skull' Division!"
His reputation spread so quickly? Lynn was quite surprised, but considering that the other party might have heard what the "pig-headed major" said when he was giving him a hard time earlier, he replied calmly, "Oh, I'm Lynn, from the 'Nordic' Division! Nice to meet you!"
"Did you really take down a Soviet platoon by yourself?" This Waffen-SS soldier, broad-shouldered but with slightly sunken cheeks, sounded somewhat lacking in confidence, as if compared to Lynn, his own achievements were not worth mentioning.
Lynn didn't like to boast. He replied truthfully, "To cover the troops, I single-handedly ambushed Russian soldiers on a hill. They may not have been the size of a platoon, and I only took out a part of them. Unfortunately, I got injured myself!"
As soon as the conversation started, the young captain who had previously led the way stood beside the double doors, holding a folder and reading out the names one by one according to rank. The soldiers who were called stepped forward immediately. Lynn noticed that the hat worn by the old man with a slightly hunched back turned as the recipient moved, but he didn't know what attitude the leader was looking at these outstanding soldiers who were still fighting despite their predicaments. Pride? Satisfaction? Helplessness? Regret? Or all of the above?
Under the gaze of the old man and several senior officers beside him, a Wehrmacht colonel of average height, in his fifties, stepped forward steadily and took the medals from the tray held by the accompanying soldier, pinning them one by one on the chests of the twelve soldiers in front of him, and whispered something to each of them. Lynn guessed it was some words of praise or encouragement, and the real protagonist, at this moment, seemed somewhat impatient, as if he didn't want to spend another moment in such a setting. However, he finally didn't leave halfway or turn to talk to his officers. He just stood there motionless, waiting silently.
After the colonel pinned the medals on the first row of soldiers, the captain with the list shouted, "Front row... Right turn, march forward... Halt, left turn..."
After this adjustment, Lynn had an unobstructed view in front of him. He could finally look at the founder and destroyer of the Third Reich of Germany, the devil in the eyes of most people. At this moment, he thought of the pale, aged, and irrational Reich Chancellor depicted in "Downfall," while the figure before him appeared even more emaciated and weary. There was hardly any trace of the intimidating aura, only a sense of weakness and fatigue, as if he could collapse at any moment.
"Second Lieutenant Antevatte Laal... Second Lieutenant Kurt Golob..."
The roll call proceeded meticulously, with Lynn noticing the approaching soldiers one by one. As it came closer to his turn, Lynn remained completely calm. When the name "Sergeant Lynn Galgo" was called, he confidently stepped forward with his chest held high.
As the roll call quickly concluded, a Waffen-SS colonel with a Knight's Cross on his collar stepped forward to award medals to the twelve elite soldiers belonging to the armed SS units. Despite his swift actions, Lynn still sensed the increasing impatience emanating from the Reich Chancellor. Had he lost patience with everything?
The colonel, with a head full of gray hair, finally reached Lynn. He exuded a faint scent of men's cologne, a far cry from the pungent smell of gun smoke. As Lynn received the shiny Iron Cross medal on his chest, he finally heard the encouragement: "Germany is proud of you!"
Once the colonel awarded the last soldier and returned to his position, the Reich Chancellor in front of the formation finally moved. Lynn initially expected him to say something like "Well done," but instead, he simply cast a cold, indifferent gaze over the young soldiers and walked toward the door without looking back, leaving Lynn with a lonely and desolate silhouette.
To this day, the collapse of the empire has been beyond the power of ordinary men to reverse.
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