I didn't answer him, just listened to him continue while paying attention to the movement around me. And this old guy didn't need me to talk, he didn't think about it and continued: "My father was a member of the Soviet Red Army, and he was still a junior officer. Speaking of this old fellow, he let out a long sigh, "In the early days of the Soviet-German war, you should know what kind of virtue the Soviet Union was. Unfortunately, my father joined the war early in the war. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders and said helplessly: "The end is obvious, and few of them who originally went to war will have a good end." There are usually several endings that await them, being killed, being captured, or escaping. And my father was the third, as far as I know, the German attack overwhelmed them, and they themselves lacked effective organization and planning, and it was not long before they were routed. He ran away with some of the survivors and ran backwards. However, from what I investigated later, it seems that their initial idea was to find other teams, because they did not try to go home, did not disguise themselves as civilians, and did not put down their guns. They still want to continue to resist, but they have to find more people, find a team, and make an effective counterattack or defense. But what awaits them is arrest, accused of desertion. The old fellow smiled bitterly and said with a sarcastic expression: "The reason is that the great leader at that time gave an order that all troops should resist on the spot and not retreat. The old guy shook his head slightly, "There is no statement other than this, there is no plan, there is no organization. It's for you to resist, it's as simple as that ... ”

"Deserters? Shot? I couldn't help but ask.

"Huh." The old guy laughed, "Have you heard of the punishment camp?" He looked at me, and without waiting for me to answer, he continued: "Your hometown and your age should know more about the great victory of the Soviet Red Army, right?" Saying that, he sneered and said, "Deserters may not all be shot." After all, war needs people, and the successive major defeats of the Soviet Union at that time cost them too many people. Shot? It's better to recharge the team as cannon fodder. And the punishment camp is the place where these people who have been captured, fled, captured, or made mistakes go. It's a hell there, and there's no honor, only a life-and-death mission. At this point he spread his hands, "Unfortunately, he didn't survive." It is impossible to know exactly where he died. Actually, there was nothing to fight and there were always people to die in wars, I understand. Even if he is not in the camp, he may not return home alive in the end. I was very young at the time, and I didn't remember him much, let alone be sad. At this point, the old guy suddenly raised his voice and said, "But this shouldn't affect his family, that is, us." He has died in battle, does he have to continue to bear the charge of desertion or even a traitor? Or do we have to continue to suffer for him? ”

The old guy looked at me angrily, but it wasn't me who made him angry. It was like he hadn't said it to anyone for a long time, but he wanted to say it very much. So even though I kept pointing a gun at him, it didn't affect him in the slightest. It was as if he was complaining, and he wanted to vent all the dissatisfaction of his life.

"Okay. That's what I'll do. The old guy took a few deep breaths and quickly calmed down, "But the tragic fate has just begun. The end of the war has finally arrived, but another disaster awaits us. That is the severe shortage of supplies. The war was won, but it also drained everything for the victors. Food was only available in limited quantities, and there were often long queues without getting anything. It is more important that we are ... The old guy said and raised his hand and pointed hard at his chest, "You will be treated unfairly." The old fellow sighed and continued, "Hunger is far more terrible than it is said. My mother did something bad in desperation to support me. She stole something. The old guy shook his head slightly, "She's just an ordinary woman, stealing things?" As a result, he was caught, and he was imprisoned in a labor camp without any excuse. I haven't seen her since. And I became a child that no one cared about. The old man looked at me, "I was forced to wander outside, but it didn't get any better. I don't remember how long I wandered or how far I went. Anyway, I ended up starving and fainting on the side of the road. But before I could die completely, a man named Rostovsky spotted me. From the moment I met this person, I started transiting. This person is a member of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, who was previously supposed to be called the NKVD, the eagle dog of the leader, who has privileges. Specialized in screening, such as who should be shot, who should be arrested, and who should be sent to correctional camps. Hehe. The old guy smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "Of course, there will be no punishment camp later." Frankly speaking, this man has done a lot of bad things, and many people hated them back then, and they have harmed more people than I have ever seen. He asked me about my experience after he rescued me. After knowing everything, perhaps it was my conscience that he adopted me, gave me another identity, and trained me with a very responsible education. But the good times were short-lived, when the great leader died and a new leader came to power. The NKVD, which used to be infinitely beautiful, could rectify whoever it wanted, and no one dared to mess with it, was liquidated. And this Rostovsky was forced to commit suicide along with his former colleagues. ”

The old guy raised his hand and gestured to his head like a pistol, "Just like that, a shot pierced his head." After saying that, he smiled, "But this time I was not implicated." This guy has figured out a way out for me. He proved that I was an orphan of an unknown martyr, that I had been adopted by him, and that I was innocent. The important thing is that no one can prove that he is lying, and I am indeed adopted by him. Later, everything seemed to be back on track and I got the treatment I deserved. No one will discriminate against me anymore, and I won't have to go hungry anymore. I have a place to live and a book to read. But I was extremely disappointed in the Soviet Union, and I should say hate, to be precise. They killed three of the people I was closest to in my life. I wanted revenge, but at first I just thought about it, after all, I didn't have the opportunity to be incapable. But fate always likes to be surprised. In college, perhaps because of my excellent academic performance, extremely simple social relationships, and the only proof that I was born was excellent, I was favored and selected for KGB. Then I knew my chance had come. The old fellow smiled smugly, "How's that?" That's my story. Are you satisfied? ”

I nodded, "So what should I call you?" ”

"Whatever. These names are all me. I'm just an orphan, and the name itself doesn't mean much to me. The old guy looked down at his wound after speaking, "If you're satisfied, can you end this?" He said, gesturing to his stomach, "I don't want to die from running blood, and it really hurts." ”

I nodded again and said, "I wonder what would happen if your father knew you had done everything?" I'm talking about your biological father and adoptive father, how will they do to you? ”

The old fellow was visibly stunned for a moment by this question, and he thought for a moment before he spoke, "Maybe, maybe they'll all beat me up and give me a shot." Ha ha. He looked at me with a smile, "Remember this tragic story of mine." Can I know your real name before you do it? I want to know who I ended up dying. I don't believe you're a Kazakh. ”

"Nope." I immediately denied, "I guess I'll call you Mr. Ullman." Because I don't think your father or adoptive father will tolerate you taking their last name. I smiled at him as I spoke, "I'll pass on your story, at least to the Russians." Goodbye, Mr. Ullman. With that, I aimed at the old guy's chest and pulled the trigger twice in a row.

The story of the old fellow Ullman is over...

(End of chapter)