Thank you mrkos, the amount is the baby, the flow of mang masters, sifasi's tips and the evaluation votes of the dark-blooded brothers, thank you for your continued support, I hope the brothers can log in when they read the book, so that they can be counted as user weekly clicks, and then give the sky a few recommended votes by the way, it would be better, hehe! The sky has been working hard!

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Although Lynn never asked for it, the "butcher" took it upon himself to ask him to take out the shell gun, then disassemble the gun into parts as he had done when he had rested in the village before, and show the hammer he thought was problematic to the "old blacksmith" in the old German uniform.

The "old blacksmith" took the hammer and looked left and right, and muttered something to the "butcher". He nodded, gave the rest of the parts to the other party, and lifted up the cuffs to show Lynn his watch. The dial pointed to 5:25, and the "butcher" then gestured with his fingers to six, and then pointed to the corresponding grid on the dial, and Lynn guessed that he was saying that six o'clock could be fixed.

As long as the Soviet army did not rush to attack, Lynn could still afford to wait for thirty-five minutes, and he hurriedly nodded to the "butcher". The SS sergeant had planned to leave, but he looked at Lynn's cracked steel helmet, then turned to the "metal scrap" in the shop, and walked into the store without saying a word. Picking out a steel helmet from the pile of metal junk, he turned and gestured to Lynn. Lynn was stunned for a moment, and hurriedly took off her steel helmet and took it in.

A good steel helmet may be able to save someone's life at a critical moment, but when she took the steel helmet from the "butcher", Lynn suddenly hesitated. Although it looks intact, the experience of the battlefield has taught Lynn that the ten ** belong to the fallen soldiers.

He is not very interested in the theory of ghosts and gods, and he has not been afraid since he was a child, but Lynn is still a little resistant to this kind of "relic" in his heart, and he is not good at living up to the kindness of the "butcher", so he stands there with a steel helmet full of contradictions. I don't know if I didn't pay attention to Lynn's expression, or if I didn't want to pay attention to this guy's hypocrisy at all, the "butcher" immediately walked out.

Lynn had no choice but to hang the steel helmet on her belt and walk out of the shop. They continued in the direction they had previously walked, and at last came to the small circular square in front of the church, the place that Lynn had noticed when she first saw the town. There was no fountain in the center of the square, as Lynn had imagined, and the cobblestones were smooth from the years of trampling of the residents, and hundreds of German soldiers were gathered around the square, seemingly grouped according to their respective units. The "butcher" stopped one of the soldiers and asked a few questions, and then led Lynn to the right side of the church, where more than twenty soldiers had gathered in front of a house with completely shattered windows, all of them looking gloomy and covered in mud, as if they had just been withdrawn from the front line. Walking up to a captain with a mustache, the "butcher" gave a military salute in a dignified manner, and the other party also gave a military salute. Judging from the tone and expression of the next conversation between the two, they must know each other. Do you want this group of people to belong to the same unit as themselves, regimental, battalion, company or platoon level? Thinking about the experience of dying along the way, Lynn ruled out the last option with great certainty, and the penultimate one also made him feel a little unlikely.

The answer didn't seem to matter to Lynn at this point, and the "butcher" talked to the SS lieutenant of the same age for more than a minute, turned his head to look at the church, and then the next sentence ended in a questioning tone, and the lieutenant looked back at the church and replied in a calm tone. The "butcher" nodded, turned to Lynn, and then realized that the guy was not good at ear now, and nodded in the direction of the church. Lynn thought that he probably asked himself to go to church to pray together, although he didn't have any religious beliefs, but the soul crossing this file always had something to do with the Creator. So he nodded and followed the "butcher" towards the Gothic building.

In Europe, churches tend to be the grandest buildings in a town, and the proportion of believers is said to be far greater than that of the other three continents of the world. There are many theories about why religion is prevalent here, but only some theologians and historians are interested in getting to the bottom of it. In Lynn's view, religious belief is nothing more than a spiritual support, an ideological pillar for people to overcome difficulties in the face of practical shortcomings. When a person is in constant pain in life, faith may become the only reason for him to live.

Walking into the porch of the church, the gray arches and walls immediately give people a solemn feeling. Lynn couldn't help but slow down, but her bulky leather boots still rattled against the stone floor. This church is not as grand as the famous church introduced by the tourist satellite TV, and the narrow and long main hall even gives people a sense of crampedness, and two rows of back benches extend from the entrance to the front of the altar, which is estimated to be enough to accommodate four or five hundred people, and it is completely conceivable that the crowding of the whole town when the residents come to worship, attend a wedding or baptism. At this moment, there were only twenty or thirty people sitting scattered on the benches, and most of them were uniformed soldiers. Some of them bowed their backs and held their heads, some looked at the statue of Christ with their hands folded, and some of them just sat upright, their caps and helmets aside.

Like "The Butcher", Lynn takes off her cloth hat and leaves her weapon outside the door when she enters the church. The two men walked along the passage between the benches, and unlike the "butcher" who showed his piety, Lynn looked curiously at the churches of this ordinary German town: the towering vaults were covered with brightly colored frescoes, six quaint crystal lamps hung along the centerline, and from the lower edge of the dome to the upper part of the arch were two rows of windows that were not completely connected, inlaid with large pieces of stained glass, some of which had broken and fallen off. At the same time, the last rays of the sun shone on the west window, forming a magical halo effect, and also enveloping the whole church in a mysterious and solemn atmosphere.

Walking to the third row of the positive number, the "butcher" stopped, moved to the right side and sat down against the wall. At this time, Lynn noticed that the statue of Jesus enshrined on the altar in front of her was not the most common "crucifixion". Here Jesus is dressed in a white robe and spreads his arms with a peaceful and kind gaze, as if he wants to embrace his people and spread blessings all over the world. For those who have just returned from the bloody battlefield, it is the embrace of God's love, a haven from storms, and a sacred place to atone for the sins of the world.

Thinking that the "butcher" might prefer to be alone at this time, Lynn chose the left position in the same row, gently placed the steel helmet and military hat on the bench, and then sat down slowly. Without the roar of planes and armored vehicles, the roar of artillery and gunfire, or even the sound of people talking, this special environment calmed Lynn's mind quickly, and for a moment, he even forgot his purgatory experience in the past dozens of hours, forgot about his comrades who had died in various ways, and forgot about the enemies he had shot and killed. However, a moment later, the scene that could not bear to look back was still hovering in Lynn's mind like a marquee, he looked up and looked straight ahead, the snow-white porcelain statue of Jesus stood quietly on the altar, his eyes were half-open, neither surprised nor sad, looking at the bloody slaughter of this world with an all-inclusive mind, and his outstretched arms began to have a downward range from his shoulders, which just showed God's mercy on mortals.

Glancing sideways at the "butcher", he rested his forehead on the back of the bench in front of him, his hands folded on his knees, his eyes closed, and his mouth seemed to have something in his mouth.

Are you atoning for your sins? As far as Lynn could see, the SS sergeant's rough attitude towards his subordinates was only a reflection of his style, not bad behavior at all, and his care and care for his companions were shown in many small details, and as for the opponents he killed, it seemed that he was not as good as Lynn.

Are you praying for yourself? Everything on the battlefield is full of accidents, and a rigid way of fighting does not mean dying before the others, and in the fierce battles of the past three days, countless soldiers have died at the bottom of the trenches, but those who are as tall as a pine have survived, and the great god of war seems to be protecting the bravest warriors in the dark.

The most difficult thing in the world to guess is the mind of others, let alone the "iceman" who is not smiling. Lynn gave up his speculation, let out a long breath, bowed his head, closed his eyes, and clasped his fingers tightly together in a solemn prayer to the god he had never prayed to......