Thank you for the second reward of the Black Pupil King, Kuygg, and Bao Sake Brewery, and the first reward of the book friend 080305201643544, the welding rod to read, and the first reward without a trace under the moon, and thank you to the sea wolf Donitz for your support, thank you! Brothers, do you want to have more recommended votes?

*******************

*******************

When Lynn's eyes were on the battlefield again, the Soviet attack was like a wave crashing into a breakwater, and even though it was furious, ferocious, and empty-sighted, it would either be crushed to pieces or retreat in disgrace when it tried its best but could not help the other side.

After more than 20 minutes of fierce fighting, no less than 30 Soviet tanks were wrecked on the riverbed and on the north and south banks, and the infantry killed by German guns and artillery formed a tragic scene of "corpses all over the field." Since the few remaining T-34s were clearly not enough to shake the German lines, a simple infantry attack would only increase casualties in the face of the enemy's machine guns, and with the acquiescence of the officers, the Soviet soldiers who rushed to the south bank of the river no longer jumped off the riverbed. They wanted to fire at the Germans close to the riverbank, but the German soldiers who had set up their defenses did not give them a chance, and the mortars deployed behind the trenches opened fire repeatedly, and the tripod-mounted MG-42 roared and sprayed a deadly "metal storm". After holding out for only another two or three minutes, the Soviet infantry finally retreated, under the cover of the last few tanks.

Despite the heavy casualties, the Soviets retreated slowly and orderly. As the distance between the two sides increased, the number of Soviet soldiers killed by German fire rapidly decreased, and when the gunfire finally subsided, there was a silence on the German position that lasted for several seconds. Immediately afterward, from the front of the trench, cheers and shouts spread rapidly.

War is like a ball game, strength is not a sign of victory, but keeping morale as high as possible can still have a positive impact on the final outcome.

The waking brain can still see the essence through the surface, but Lynn's limbs seem to be on the hard floor after sleeping for a week, the joints feel sore, and the whole body seems to be inexplicably drained. He leaned his rifle against the wall of the foxhole, sat down on the other side, unfastened the buckle under the steel helmet with his right hand, and took out a cigarette with a slight trembling hand with his left hand, and shook it, but two cigarettes fell out. He had no choice but to stuff one of them back, then put the other one in his mouth, and was fumbling for the matchbox in his pocket, when he suddenly heard a "chirp", and before the person could react, the steel helmet was thrown back "properly".

This sudden cold gun can startle Lynn enough, the whole person reflexively curled up and hid at the bottom of the foxhole, the cigarette in his mouth fell without knowing it, what hurt his soul even more was that the moment the steel helmet was hit by a bullet, the panic and despair made him almost incontinent - as a person with strong self-esteem, if that really happened, Lynn felt that he would definitely not have the courage to live again.

At this time, a gunshot came from above, and the rapidly accumulated battlefield experience allowed Lynn to judge that it was a gunshot coming from a relatively close range. He immediately thought of the German sniper on the roof of the building, professional camouflage and professional optical sight, he was fully qualified to snipe enemy gunners on the battlefield.

Regardless of whether it was an ordinary Soviet infantry or a professional sniper who almost killed himself just now, Lynn, who was huddled on the cold muddy ground, first reflected on his own reasons: although the enemy retreated, those lying on his stomach may not be dead corpses, and a half-pulled rookie like himself can shoot at a lying target at a distance of about 300 meters, and the Soviet soldiers can certainly give themselves a headshot. After all, this foxhole is shallower than the ordinary trench, and it is really comfortable to sit like that just now, but it just exposes the top of the head, if you don't wear a steel helmet, you can't be sure that it has been scattered white and red all over the ground!

No one fired from the roof after the gunshots rang out, and Lynn couldn't ask her sniper if the cunning Soviet gunman had been killed. Even if he can be sure, he can't speak loudly so as not to reveal the location, not to mention that it is not easy to confirm whether a target is really hanging on the battlefield.

Suddenly, the voice of the "butcher" came from the trench in front, and although Lynn couldn't understand the question sentence after "Hey, Lynn", he could roughly guess that the other party was asking about his condition. Lynn hurriedly took out the dictionary from the bag and looked up the corresponding German for "good", and then responded to "butcher" according to the transliteration above - if someone on the other side of the villa saw Lynn's behavior, I don't know how they would feel in their hearts.

Due to the cold guns before, the German soldiers did not dare to rush out of the bunker between the battles, and the people in the trenches could still move around each other, transporting the wounded and replenishing ammunition, but "skirmishers" like Lynn had no choice. While it was still completely dark, Lynn took out her "German Conversation" and parroted it, "Sergeant, how are you?" ”

"I'm fine too!" "The butcher" replied, but Lynn didn't understand the words that followed him. With no knowledge of German at all, trying to look up a dictionary according to the syllables pronounced by the other party is tantamount to looking for a needle in the sea, Lynn directly gave up such an attempt and quickly stuffed the two "divine books" back into her bag. Expecting that a new Soviet offensive might soon begin, he carefully examined his rifle, filled the magazine with five rounds, and took out the shell gun that had almost killed him earlier, and felt that the recklessness in his surname must be restrained and corrected as much as possible.

In order to avoid falling off the chain at the critical moment, Lynn pulled the bolt of the barge gun, only to find that the chamber and magazine were empty. He thought about it in amazement: when the "butcher" dismantled the shell gun into parts and handed it over to the "old blacksmith", there were absolutely no bullets in the chamber, and when the "old blacksmith" repaired the hammer and handed the assembled gun back to him, not only was the safety open, but the chamber was also loaded with bullets—was it not to make sure that the hammer would work properly, he had already tried to fire a shot beforehand, and unconsciously kept it in a state of readiness?

Although he was suspected of being behind the blame, he was not actually punished after all, and Lynn was not so eager to find the truth. What's more, he had also seen it before, the town was also shelled by the Soviet army, and the technicians responsible for repairing the guns and equipment were probably withdrawn to the relatively safer rear in advance at this time, and no one dared to guarantee whether the vast sea of people could see each other again.

Fortunately, the "butcher" still had more bullets earlier, and Lynn took out six rounds from his pocket and filled the magazine, carefully insuring the danger after loading the bullets, and firmly engraved the order of opening the safety and pulling the trigger in his mind. When everything was ready, he fumbled his way to pick up a half-wet cigarette from the ground, pressed his head against the wall of the foxhole facing south, took a match from his pocket and lit it, and as soon as he lit the cigarette, the enemy shells whistled again......

"I'm grass, and I can't let people take a breath!"

Lynn angrily came out with two sentences of standard Chinese, and the successive explosions completely drowned out his roar, and even if the other German soldiers heard it, they probably only thought that this guy was venting hysteria. As for what language he is talking about and what he is saying, who cares?

Throwing away the steel helmet, Lynn could only huddle in the corner of the foxhole with his hands tightly holding his head, this time the cigarette in his mouth was still in his mouth, and he took a puff every few seconds, and the pain he felt was actually reduced a little, and even the eardrum, which was always shocked to the point of unbearable pain, barely persevered. After smoking a cigarette, the Soviets' shelling was not over, and Lynn simply pulled another one out of his pocket, and lighting a cigarette with a match was as difficult as cutting his nails while sitting on the back of a motorcycle—at least that's how Lynn compared. Fortunately, two matches eventually lit the cigarette. At this time, the position was filled with gunsmoke, and neither side would notice the faint smoke rising from this small foxhole.

Just as Lynn was about to smoke the third cigarette, the Soviet shelling had obviously thinned out, and he unhurriedly patted both ears with his left and right hands at the same time, and the symptoms of tinnitus were somewhat lessened. Then he took out a boat-shaped cloth beanie from his bag and put it on his head, took out three rows of bullets from his pocket and put them in a position where he could reach them, then picked up the rifle, brushed the mud from the barrel and bolt with his sleeve, bowed his head, bent over, and then propped up his left knee, his left shoulder against the wall of the pit, and stood diagonally with the gun in both hands. As soon as the gunfire rang out on the position, he could get up and aim as quickly as possible.