Xu Jun walked in the exclusive corridor of the head of the empire, on the right side of the walkway is the back garden of the Prime Minister's Office, through the tall glass partition window, you can see the square pool and bronze sculpture in front of the main building.

At the end of the corridor is a rectangular waiting room facing north and south, with two tall wooden doors leading to the Führer's office side by side, and as for why two identical side doors were built, it is only to correspond to the two side doors on the west side of the office, which looks more symmetrical and beautiful.

The guards guarding the top of the corridor raised their arms to salute Xu Jun, and Tysenhofen took a few steps forward to open the side door for Xu Jun.

"Let the girls of the Secretariat go back to rest, and leave the two stenographers on duty." Xu Jun walked into his Führer's office, took off his military hat, and placed it on the oak map table on the north side of the room, along with the marshal's scepter.

"Prepare the little conference room, and ask if Schellenberg and Müller have arrived." Xu Jun walked over to his desk and sat down.

There is a small conference room on the west side of the ground floor of the Reich Chancellery, near the annex building, which has not been used when Hitler was in power, it should be said that the conference room of the Reich Chancellery was used for decoration most of the time, since Hitler became the supreme dictator of the Third Reich, there has never been a cabinet meeting in the Chancellery, because the Reich ministers only need to obey his will and orders, and no one in Germany can influence the Führer's thoughts, not even the closest Goering.

"Yes, my Führer." Tysenhowen nodded to Xu Jun and Werler, then turned and walked to the main entrance of the office.

"Sit, Weirle." Xu Jun opened a drawer on the side of his desk, took two clean cups from it, and pointed to the high-backed chair in front of the desk, motioning for Weierle to sit down.

"Tell me what you've found, that... Kuhnberg, that's the name..."Xu Jun opened the door of a low cabinet next to the table and took out a crystal wine bottle from inside. The Reich Führer pulled the cork from the crystal bottle, poured some golden liquor into the glass, and pushed the glass in front of Werle.

"Yes, his full name is Marven. Ulysses. Ludwig. Graff. Feng. Kuhnberg, my Führer. Weierle picked up the wine glass and thanked Xu Jun.

"Graff? He's a count? Xu Jun also poured himself a little brandy, he is not a big drinker, and occasionally he will drink a small glass at night when he stays up late at work, which can help him relax.

As mentioned above, the Weimar Republic abolished all the privileges of the German aristocracy, and in order to appease the noble families with ancient heritage, the government allowed the nobles to keep the status symbol of von in their names, and at the same time add their respective titles to their names, which is the last remaining glory of these nobles.

"The Kuhnberg family has a long history and existed before the Duchy of Bavaria." Wehrle replied.

"Well, go on, Weirle." Xu Jun took a sip of brandy and placed the wine glass on the desk.

"Kuhnberg was very cooperative, I think his words are very credible, my Führer." Weirle carefully placed the cup on the edge of the table.

"What evidence is there that he is not lying? Weirle. Xu Jun picked up half of the extinguished cigar from the ashtray, looked at the sign on it, and then reached out and picked up the matchbox on the side.

"I have no proof, my Führer, and this is entirely my own judgment, and there is no need for Kuhnberg to make up such a lie. It didn't do him the slightest benefit, because it was too easy to see, and he knew very well how severely he would be punished if he deceived us. Wehrle replied.

"Understood, please continue, Weirle." Xu Jun struck a match, lit half of the cigar, and then threw the burnt match into the ashtray.

"He told a rather bizarre story, my Führer, and I can only repeat his words to you as much as I can, and as for the contents of the story, I think with your wisdom you should be able to judge the truth or falsehood." Weirle said respectfully.

"Hmm." Xu Jun was noncommittal, just nodded slightly in response.

"The story begins with the Second Battle of the Marne in 1918, which you should know, when the Second Army was divided and flanked by a heavy French group on the south bank, and the front-line troops suffered heavy losses." Willle reports.

After Dougan and his men left, Kuhnberg led the remaining officers and soldiers, relying on the rudimentary defensive position, to repel three consecutive French infantry attacks, but then the French heavy artillery entered the battlefield, and Kuhnberg's position was heavily bombarded by French heavy artillery.

Aside from the hellish barbed wire jungle, the worst thing about the soldiers of the First World War was probably the nightmarish heavy artillery bombardment.

At that time, the casting technology of large-caliber artillery in Europe was already quite developed, and compared with the World War II period, only more advanced sighting and fire control methods were lacking. Because of the artillery technology and tactics, the heavy artillery in the First World War could not achieve accurate shelling of the target as in World War II, coupled with the complex trench system built by both sides, which effectively reduced the probability of artillery killing and wounding soldiers, so it was often only possible to use covering artillery as a means of warfare, and to increase the number of firepower projections to improve the killing efficiency.

The French army was equipped with a number of Saint-Chamond M1915 155-mm cannons, which could reach a range of up to 9,300 meters and a warhead weighing 43.5 kilograms. Kuhnberg's infantry battalion soon learned the power of this terrible weapon, and although they were veterans of the battlefield and knew how to deal with shelling, the problem was that the positions were too rudimentary to do much to prevent artillery.

The shock wave mixed with shrapnel swept across the position, and the explosion shook the dirt on the side of the foxhole, and some soldiers were buried alive in his hiding place, and the direct hit was immediately shattered, and the fragments of human tissue were thrown to a height of 50 meters along with the dirt lifted. The machine gun was blown into the sky like a wheat stalk by the blast wave, and a long canvas cartridge belt dragged behind it, and ammunition and weapon parts mixed with dirt and rubble were scattered in all directions, striking the steel helmets above the soldiers' heads clangling.

Although it only took about fifteen or sixteen seconds after only two rounds of shelling, Kuhnberg knew in his heart that his infantry battalion was finished.

A cannonball fell about ten meters or so in front of the foxhole where Kuhnberg was hiding, and the explosion caused severe hearing damage to the Count, and both of his eardrums were shattered by air pressure, and blood flowed out of his ear holes and down his cheeks to his uniform. The air was filled with a pungent smell of sulfur, and the acidic gas, mixed with moisture, irritated the soldiers' eyes and airways, and exposed skin felt like a fire-tingling pain.

The German soldiers had temporarily lost the ability to continue fighting, Kuhnberg knew this, and the French also knew that the French soldiers were launching a new charge against the German positions, and although the count could not hear the cries of the other side, he could sense that the crisis was approaching, and the enemy might be close at hand.

At this last moment, the major threw away the Luger pistol, which had already been emptied, and drew the command knife that his grandfather had left behind. Immediately, a French infantryman in a blue coat appeared on the top of the dirt slope, and the French private, wearing a Lebel rifle with a long bayonet, screamed loudly and rushed down the dirt slope to the German major standing at the bottom of the slope.

Although Kuhnberg's gray uniform was covered in black mud and there were no officer marks at all, the high riding boots on his feet, the pistol holster around his waist, and the shiny officer's command knife in his hand completely revealed his identity.

Kuhnberg's ears could not hear any sound, and the damage to his eardrum also affected his balance, possibly accompanied by some minor concussions, but fortunately the French soldier was a rookie and obviously did not have much training in bayonet combat, Kuhnberg dodged the opponent's thrust sideways and accurately pierced the opponent's neck with a sharp command knife.

At this moment, the surviving German soldiers on the position also held their own weapons and fought for survival for the last time, and bloody hand-to-hand combat was in full swing on this small position. But the French had an absolute numerical superiority, and the German officers and men, although desperately resisted, soon fell under the siege of the enemy, and to the surprise of the French, not a single enemy surrendered to them until the last German soldier was stabbed.

Kuhnberg fought until the end, and he was treated like a big fish by the French, and although he was covered with several bayonet wounds, none of them were fatal, and finally he collapsed from blood loss and exhaustion, and before falling into a coma, he still held the handle of the command knife tightly in his hand.

"Kuhnberg was captured by the French army, and because of his serious injuries, he was taken to the French Army Hospital in Paris for treatment." Wehrle raised his glass and took a sip of brandy to moisten his throat.

"It's easy to verify, and it allows the French side to bring up the records of the time..... This one... The French should have a record... Weirle. The Führer tilted his head and hesitated a little, not that he did not believe Kuhnberg's confession, but that the French were not very reliable.

"Medical records should be available, and the French are still more serious about this." Weirle replied respectfully.

"Well, what happened next." Xu Jun took a puff of his cigar and slowly exhaled pale white smoke.

"The French had always treated the captured German officers well, and Kuhnberg was treated with courtesy befitting his rank, especially when the French knew that he was a count, and gave him a lot of special care. He was quickly discharged from the hospital and transferred to a prisoner of war camp outside Paris, where he met a... How to say it, the man who completely changed his fate. Wehrle said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Go on, Werle, go on." The Reich extinguished the cigar in the ashtray, then raised his glass, raised his head and drank the rest of the brandy.

"My Führer, have you heard of the Illuminati before?" Wehrle leaned forward with a mysterious expression.

"The Illuminati?" Xu Jun was stunned when he heard this, and his hand holding the crystal wine bottle stopped in mid-air.

"Go on, Weirle." The Reich regained his composure, and he steadily took the bottle and poured brandy into his glass.

PS: I'm sorry I can only send one chapter today.,The author has already found his state.,Strive for a double update tomorrow.。

Thank you for your support, the author will continue to work hard.