Thank you mrkos, kuygg for the tip, thank you for your support, and it would be better to have some more recommended votes, hehe!

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In the case of more monks and less porridge, queuing is often the best way to solve the problem of fairness. Seeing that more and more soldiers were joining the queue, Lynn's group of SS officers and soldiers also walked over with their equipment under the leadership of the captain. Three cauldrons were lined up on wooden stands in the center of the square, and the soldiers in charge of cooking had poured water into them, and added leaves, potatoes, and slices of meat.

A Mauser rifle, a "** sand" submachine gun, a crossbody canvas bag and a number of miscellaneous items, Lynn's belongings add up to about 20 pounds, which is not a heavy burden for adults who are 1.8 meters tall and weigh about 150 pounds, but the mental tension, lack of diet and the long-distance travel all day, the tired body is only about 40% of the normal physical fitness. Seeing that this waiting line would not end without half an hour, Lynn learned from others to carry the barrel of the gun in their hands to the upper position, so that the butt naturally hung on the ground, thus reducing most of the burden. Unconsciously after more than ten minutes, I suddenly felt that someone was walking straight towards me, and I subconsciously turned my head to look, and my heart suddenly chuckled.

There were eight soldiers who walked over, all of whom took off their steel helmets and boat-shaped hats, wore the famous M43 "Pea" camouflage combat uniforms on their upper bodies, and wore blue-gray military trousers on their lower bodies, or carried rifles or submachine guns. If it weren't for what had happened at the door of the "blacksmith shop" before, Lynn wouldn't have been surprised by the appearance of these people, even if the top three in the line were taller. But at this time, he was a little apprehensive in his heart, lest the "Yankel", who had been deflated in front of his superiors, would wait for an opportunity to come to retaliate, and these Wehrmacht soldiers in front of him seemed to be a little unkind......

The burliest of the men was as strong as a brown bear that had grown fat before winter came, and his cuffs were rolled up high, revealing an arm the thickness of an ordinary man's thigh. This size completely broke Lynn's assumptions about the quality of German soldiers at the end of the war - in terms of size, it is estimated that it is not a problem to deal with two or three ordinary Russian soldiers at the same time in hand-to-hand combat! When he stopped in front of Lynn, the oppressive force almost made Lynn take a step back, but fortunately the "butcher" and the other SS soldiers were nearby, so he didn't panic too much.

The big soldier spoke angrily, and less than thirty centimeters away, Lynn's eardrums were dazed, knowing that this was a situation that only appeared when he was under shelling. However, neither the tone nor the actions of the other party looked like they were malicious, and Lynn finally breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down, and it turned out that the big soldier's hand was pointing at his "** sand".

Without waiting for Lynn to reply, the big soldier pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Lynn looked up and saw that it was still an unopened packet. After about a second of sluggishness, he finally reacted: it turned out that the other party wanted his own Soviet-made submachine gun!

At this moment, several other Wehrmacht soldiers who came with them also talked to the SS soldiers on Lynn's side, but not only did they exchange things for guns and ammunition, some took cigarettes and chocolates and exchanged silver items such as watches, cans, pocket watches, cigarette cases, etc., and if they felt that the other party's trade items were not worth enough, they would bargain with each other, and then take out new things from their pockets. It's like a different kind of free market, where anything can be traded as long as you feel that it is "profitable".

Seeing that Lynn was still silent, the big soldier took out a finger-sized piece of stuff wrapped in colored paper from his pocket, presumably candy or something. At this time, Lynn really considered the importance of the items provided by the other party and the Soviet-made submachine gun in his hand. To be sure, the vast majority of the confidence he now gains comes from his precision with the Mauser rifle, and the "** Sand", which has an overall rating higher than the Mauser's 98k, has never worked in his hands. Remembering that she still had a restored shell gun, Lynn picked up the submachine gun and stuffed it to the big man in front of her, who seemed ready to give up, and then grabbed the cigarette and candy from the other man's hand.

The big man skillfully pulls the bolt, corrects the bolt, and unloads the drum, and if it weren't for the German uniform and fluent German, this coherent movement would easily raise doubts about his identity. After confirming that it was an intact "** sand" submachine gun, the big soldier grinned at Lynn and pointed at the round drum and said something. Lynn guessed that he was asking himself for a matching bullet and shook his head very firmly. The big man felt a little regretful, but he still carried it on his left shoulder, close to his original Mauser rifle.

Lynn lowered her head and unscrewed the colored paper, and sure enough, there was a piece of orange-colored hard candy in it, and gently pinched the cigarette pack, which should be the kind of cigarette that the "butcher" had asked him to smoke earlier. The deal was successfully completed, but Lynn couldn't help but have some curiosity: did the Wehrmacht soldier exchange himself for a Soviet-made submachine gun with relatively scarce supplies such as cigarettes and candy, just out of recognition of his surname, trying to increase his chances of saving his life on the battlefield?

Looking at the other people around me, the barter transactions didn't take much time to complete. The Wehrmacht soldiers exchanged all kinds of supplies for all kinds of booty captured by SS officers and soldiers from the Soviets, and this was thanks to the ambush in the woods in the morning, although the road blocking battle in the afternoon was more significant, but the German soldiers involved in the battle did not have time to clear the battlefield, and the trophies were naturally impossible to talk about.

After a while, seeing that the soup in the pot was steaming, suddenly someone blew a whistle very uninterestingly. Stimulated by this boo, the soldiers who had been lining up in a circle suddenly scratched. I saw four high-spirited officers standing on the steps in front of the church, and a stocky non-commissioned officer wearing a steel helmet and holding a rigid clip in both hands, read aloud according to what was on the paper. Every time he finished speaking, there would always be more than a dozen or twenty soldiers who quickly joined the temporary queue in front of the steps, and compared with the random formation of waiting in line for soup, the neat queue in a hurry really reflected the quality of professional soldiers.

The non-commissioned officer had read seven or eight sentences like this, and suddenly changed his rhythm and uttered a long series of words, and one of the officers standing on the steps came up to them, shouted a short slogan, and left the square west with a team of more than a hundred people. This was repeated again, and the second officer took about the same number of troops. Immediately afterwards, the non-commissioned officer began to report one by one in the same rhythm as before, and when a name that Lynn was completely unfamiliar with was called, the group of SS officers and men he was in trotted forward without hesitation, and Lynn was quick this time, at least catching up with his companions.

Without the command of the officers, everyone consciously stood in the column, and Lynn, not knowing what to do with the way he was standing, followed closely behind the buttocks of the "butcher". Standing in front of the steps, the mechanical voice of the non-commissioned officer could naturally be heard more clearly, and Lynn raised his head and suddenly found that one of the only two officers left on the steps was actually very familiar - "Yankel", that is, the German lieutenant called "Heidlink" by the lieutenant colonel. The guy had his head held high, his chin cocked, his gaze from above down, his tightly buttoned neckline wearing an Iron Cross, his chest held high, the belt around his waist tightly fastened, and the pistol holster looked too small for his burly build.

Again, there was a slightly longer gap between the non-commissioned officer's words, and Lynn knew that one of the next two officers would come down and become the "leader." Judging by common sense, the garrison command had previously registered the numbers and general circumstances of these dispersal and routs, and what it was doing now was to temporarily organize these stragglers and appoint officers of the corresponding rank to serve as their temporary commanders.

Just as Lynn feared, "Yankel" scanned the team of about 140 people in the audience with his cold gaze, and walked down the steps with his head held high. With a loud slogan, the soldiers in three columns turned from the head of the group and turned to the left in a trotting position, while "Yankel" followed closely beside the leader of the group, and led the team around the square for half a circle and then headed east.

Before leaving, Lynn glanced at the cauldrons with great resentment. The soup is already boiling......