Chương 111: Chapter 111: The Battle Will Begin Here
Quiet morning, Lynn was awakened by a loud rumbling mixed with "chirping" noises.
The sky was already bright, and checking his watch, he realized he had only slept for two hours.
Water droplets trickled down from the cracks in the roof, still falling one by one onto the wooden floor, making a faint tapping sound.
Getting up while still dressed, Lynn walked to the wooden door embedded in the broken wall, his bleary eyes catching sight of a camouflaged "Tiger" tank - it was as majestic as imagined, with its immense body and imposing cannon. However, its body was riddled with scars, with several nearly fist-sized shell craters deeply embedded in the turret armor.
If it were alive, Lynn felt it would be in considerable pain, perhaps harboring the same sense of loss and despair as most here. Nevertheless, this was his first time carefully observing this acknowledged "German Ace" at such a close distance. Perhaps it had just retreated from the front lines or returned from the repair shop, but either way, it had found a resting place by the roadside without engaging in combat. The armored soldiers emerging from the tank were scratching their heads, indicating that tending to such a massive beast was no easy task.
After observing for a while, Lynn finally grew bored and looked into the distance. The misty rain reminded him of the Jiangnan region, where the fine rain had been continuous for several days, obscuring the distant scenery. Behind it, Oranienburg, developed through chemical and metal smelting, had become almost a ruin. After being washed by the rain and with most of the residents evacuated early, the remaining broken walls here appeared particularly desolate.
Lynn had never paid much attention to German weather, but according to his comrades, this kind of continuous drizzle was typical in spring. Because of the nourishing rain, the land would become fertile, vegetation would flourish, and the harvest in the fields would be anticipated.
Hearing this, Lynn remembered "Field of Dreams," a movie that he found utterly ridiculous.
Sometimes, reality was more absurd than movies.
If the wartime situation hadn't been so dire, Private Anton Graf, a soldier with minor injuries, should have been discharged early. Due to the injury to his left hand, his mp38 behaved like a leaky watering can when firing, with bullets spreading so widely that it was practically wasting precious ammunition. Lynn tried to train him to operate the bolt-action rifle single-handedly, but even at a distance of fifty meters, he could only hit two or three shots out of ten!
Private Markus Tanz and Private Karl Tichmeyer, both under 18 years old, would get nervous at the sound of gunfire. Their shooting could only be described as "firing" - regardless of whether they aimed or not, the accuracy of their Mauser 98k was always three meters away from the target center. Tichmeyer even closed his eyes and pulled the trigger more than half the time!
Among the four soldiers, it seemed only Corporal Gordon Wolfrum met the basic requirements of the battlefield, but he was still young and had a poor memory. While operating the simple infantry infrared night vision device, an ordinary person could learn it in half a day, but even after several days of one-on-one training with Lynn, he still couldn't remember the operating essentials. During night training, he even inexplicably left the night vision device on for more than two hours, only to find the battery completely drained when it was actually needed.
Walking back from the broken doorway to the broken house, glancing at the sprawled Wolfrum, the sideways-leaning Graf, and the two dainty boys sleeping in the corner, Lynn increasingly missed his companions who underwent special forces training together. They were selected from various combat units of the Waffen-SS and were considered excellent soldiers with decent physical fitness, reflexes, and awareness. If his four subordinates had the same qualities, he wouldn't be so anxious.
Although yawning repeatedly, Lynn couldn't fall asleep again after lying down. He looked up at the mottled ceiling, pondering his situation and prospects. Initially, he hadn't expected to stay in Oranienburg for so long. While his wounds had healed, the situation had worsened significantly: the wheel of time had finally entered the fourth month of 1945, and the endless rainy days, while temporarily preventing the relentless Allied bombing that even the German Luftwaffe couldn't stop, brought one bad news after another. Danzig, known as Gdansk by the Poles, had been captured by the Soviet Union's 2nd Belorussian Front commanded by Marshal Rokossovsky; the last fortress in East Prussia, the Konigsberg defense line, had collapsed under the dual attack of the Soviet army and navy; a few days later, the red flag of the Soviet Union was hoisted on the rooftop of Vienna's City Hall, the hometown of the Imperial Chancellor, was taken by the Russians in one fell swoop. Looking across the Eastern and Western Fronts, except for the Courland Group Army trapped in western Latvia still resisting stubbornly, the German defensive position was deteriorating, and the land still under the control of the Empire was like being squeezed by two bulldozers, shrinking significantly every day. Berlin had ultimately become an isolated island in a sea of floods. To the discerning eye, the only suspense was when it would be captured by the enemy. However, the stubborn Imperial Chancellor still refused to admit defeat, actively deploying troops, attempting a last-ditch counterattack under the Berlin city - all of which coincided with the history familiar to Lynn. He even gradually forgot about the disc-shaped flying objects he saw that day, only thinking about planning an escape route before the Empire's doomsday arrived.
A week ago, to improve the combat effectiveness of the 4th "Night Assault Combat Group," the "Vampire" Assault Team sent instructors and selected a group of veterans. Under their guidance, each combat group conducted combat training and shooting exercises in the city every night. In addition to the mandatory strict training and live-fire exercises every day, each combat group also participated in two large-scale joint exercises. Lynn's own experience and skills still gave him an advantage, but as the saying goes, "Fear the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times, not the one who has practiced ten thousand kicks once." Dragged down by his four subordinates, Lynn and his 167th combat group never made it to the end. However, he felt that this short-term, high-intensity training, although far from enough to turn soldiers into true "night warriors" - most of them still used ordinary combat weapons, but understanding the patterns and techniques of night urban combat in advance would still be helpful for future battlefield engagements - at least it could save many lives.
On the 11th day of staying in Oranienburg, the day before the distant gunfire resumed, the 4th "Night Assault Combat Group" was split in two, and 30 five-man combat groups were taken away by a convoy of military vehicles. It was said that they were reinforced to the town stronghold on the banks of the Oder River and would resist the fierce attacks of the Soviet army in a night battle.
Without saying goodbye, the comrades left, and Lynn's 167th group, along with 19 other combat groups, remained in Oranienburg. It sounded like a lot, but it was just a hundred soldiers.
Thinking about it over and over, Lynn's thoughts remained tangled like a ball of yarn. He sat up against the cold wall, took out the diary left by "Lynn Galge" from his backpack.
"November 26, 1943, clear. The troops are finally heading to the front lines. I am very nervous. I heard that the Russians are a rude and foolish race. I hope we can defeat them quickly, just like clearing out the Croatian guerrillas, using the steel will and the patience of hunters to knock them all down!"
Reading this passage, Lynn couldn't help but smile bitterly. The Russians were indeed brutal and violent, but they were anything but foolish. On the contrary, it was often the meticulous Germans who found themselves in complicated predicaments.
Seeing is believing. Before you truly understand the facts, jumping to conclusions is very dangerous.
"January 15, 1944, overcast. The first time I fought with the Russians, their powerful artillery fire was truly astonishing. There were many tanks, and the soldiers were brave. I was almost hit by bullets twice during the battle. It was really thrilling! Peter was injured, although not very seriously, it will probably take a while for him to recover. I hope the almighty God will keep me lucky like today!"
Mourning for his comrade's injury and worrying about his own fate, this simple diary entry reflected the most genuine thoughts of ordinary soldiers on the battlefield. Wasn't Lynn the same? It's just that at that time, Lynn Galge was still a simple Danish volunteer. His initial intention to join the army was simply to respond to the call of the German leader and to supplement his family's meager income, and these were all understandable. Unfortunately, his good fortune did not last until the end of the war. Before Lynn's soul crossed over and inhabited his body, he succumbed to the exhaustion of continuous intense combat, eventually becoming a stiff body commonplace in the trenches, and was hastily buried by his comrades. If not for this, there wouldn't have been the subsequent desperate escape and bloody battles, nor would he have coincidentally encountered the White Goatbeard family, let alone inadvertently joining the "Vampire" assault team, being forged into a cold-blooded battlefield killer, or receiving an audience with the Emperor. He would not have ended up in this inconspicuous Orlaningburg, ready at any moment to use his flesh and blood to resist the fierce artillery fire and formidable enemy forces of the Soviet army.
Listening to the distant resumption of gunfire, Lynn knew that the truly intense and cruel battle was getting closer and closer to him.
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