"I said that the night was not very peaceful, and the Germans did not know what tricks to play, so they had to cheer up. A Soviet platoon commander walked up to the fortifications, standing guard next to the soldiers, lit his own cigarette, and reminded him. He is a second-generation official from Moscow with a bit of background, and he always seems to be able to conjure up more cigarettes that are quite precious to front-line soldiers.

It was precisely because his status was somewhat different from that of ordinary Soviet soldiers that he was not sent to the more difficult places on the front line, but was stationed here to defend an important railway bridge. By the standards of the whole defense, it was impregnable, with bridgeheads at both ends of the bridge, machine gun emplacements for guards, and as many as 140 soldiers stationed here if you count a few anti-aircraft guns for defense.

An infantry company reinforced with 4 anti-aircraft guns, although the number is not enough, but it is not small. After all, the closest German troops to this railway bridge are more than 50 kilometers, and they have a lot of time to blow up the bridge calmly and leave here.

"Don't worry, comrade platoon commander, did you see the guard post over there? It's the place where there is a figure, if there is anything unusual, he will fire a warning shot. At that time, the machine guns on our side will go off, and no one will be able to rush through. The soldier standing guard took the cigarette given by the commander and said enthusiastically.

Nodding, the platoon commander carried his Mosin Nagant rifle on his back and headed to the other side of the dark bridge. For safety, the entire company headquarters, as well as some hidden fortifications where the officers rested, were built on the other side of the bridge, so that even if the Germans suddenly arrived and seized the bridgehead on this side, the troops on the other side could continue to resist - or give these officers time to escape.

In the distance, at the outpost, a soldier was sitting on a sandbag with a gun, looking up as if looking at the night that had been quiet because the shelling had stopped, the cold wind was blowing, he didn't seem to care about his exposed neck at all, he looked up motionlessly, just tilted his head so quietly.

In the direction of the German position, his pale face showed a look of horror, in fact he had been dead for a long time, and his body was already cold, so he was motionless in the cold wind, so he just tilted his head back like that. A sharp dagger slashed his neck, blood pouring all over the hem of his shirt, and the deep wound made his head so weirdly up.

And in the trench at the foot of this corpse, three Soviet soldiers were lying on the ground, all with fatal wounds. This place has obviously been attacked, and no one knows where the people who attacked it are now.

"Alas, it's time for a change of guard, don't be lazy!" After smoking the cigarette in his mouth, the Soviet soldier, who had just introduced the outpost arrangement to his platoon commander, called out to the recruits behind him without looking back, but he didn't seem to notice that a sharp dagger had gone around his neck from behind.

A German special forces soldier with a black oil paint on his face and a black special steel helmet, like a ghost, silently slashed the cold special knife at the poor Soviet soldier - from the time he spoke, until he was cut his throat and quietly accepted death, he couldn't figure out why the Soviet recruits behind him would kill him so viciously.

Unfortunately, the friendly recruit he thought had done to him was lying on the ground at this moment, clutching his throat like him, struggling to make a sound. But when he opened his mouth, blood gushed out of his mouth and neck, and he could not scream, not even from the close anti-aircraft gun position.

Even if he desperately banged his hands on the dirt under his feet in the trench, no one would pay attention to him, because on the anti-aircraft gun position not far away, several German soldiers had already killed all the Soviet soldiers, and they made a slight and regular clattering sound, telling the soldiers around them that they had completed their tasks.

Taking advantage of the faint light of the camp near the bridge, the two German soldiers raised their crossbows in their hands, and their target was the Soviet platoon commander who had just walked to a third of the railway bridge. They aimed their weapons at their targets, and behind them, one by one German special forces soldiers with MP-44 assault rifles bent over, from both sides of the railway bridge, against the railings, little by little, towards the opposite side.

The platoon commander heard the dense footsteps behind him, like the slight rustle of the wind as it blew through the trees. He frowned, turned back in confusion, and the cigarette in his mouth became a perfect sign for firing in a slightly dark environment. Two crossbow arrows flew in, one in his chest and one in his stomach, causing him to stagger in the impact, and he didn't have a reaction in his mind about what was going on.

"I'm going back to Moscow soon...... My father was a high-ranking official...... What a wonderful future for me......" The Soviet platoon commander was full of unwillingness and regret, and when he felt the pain and subconsciously wanted to scream, the back of his head had hit the ground hard, and he was stumbled.

"Someone!" he said as if he were groaning, and his mouth was covered by a passing German special forces soldier with his hand. A cold bayonet plunged into his throat and then pulled it out with a hint of unforgettable pain, and then the bayonet plunged into his chest, causing the Soviet officer to close his eyes.

Soon, one trench after another, one position after another, was occupied by the German special forces in darkness in this silent state, who took control of the bridge in stealthiness, and even hung down from the bridge deck with steel wires, easily cutting the detonation wires used by the bombs fixed on the bridge by the Soviet defenders.

"What people!" When the German troops touched the headquarters here, a Soviet soldier finally noticed the problem. As soon as he shouted a word with his weapon, he was pierced through his body by four crossbow arrows at the same time. He watched as his crossbow bolts fell like a puddle of mud.

But the shout finally woke up the Soviet defenders alive, but now there were only two of them alive. The Soviet officer in the company pushed the door out of his clothes, but what awaited him was a cold pistol against the door of his head.

"The reason why I don't shoot is very simple, tell me your street code tonight. Familiar Russian, but in a cold tone, the German officer had a black woolen glove on the palm of his pistol, similar to the "Thunderbolt Gloves" of the eighties and nineties, with his fingers exposed, and a similar flap that could be folded to the front.

"Don't shoot! I'm willing to cooperate! I'm actually Ukrainian! I'm really Ukrainian!" the Soviet officer shuddered and pleaded, raising his hands in the air. He also saw that these German soldiers were definitely not ordinary people, and they didn't come here to arrest a small company commander like him.

"That's weird! Captain!" a German soldier said to the lead officer in German with a smile holding his MP-44 assault rifle, "We have come to Russia, but we have not met a single Russian." Here are either Ukrainians, or Belarusians. ”

His words made the German special forces around him laugh, and the German officer who pointed a pistol at the commander of the Soviet company and then asked in German: "If you don't tell the truth, I'll kill you, say, what's the password for tonight." ”

"Azalea!" was slammed a pistol on the door of the head, and the Soviet company commander closed his eyes and shouted the command he knew. Several German soldiers who had questioned other Soviet soldiers nodded, and it seemed that all of them were speaking the same password.

"Phew!" Before the other party could react, the German officer shot the hapless company commander in the head. With this gunshot, silence returned to the entire bridge.

"All right, boys, get to work!" the German officer clapped his hands and commanded loudly. So the German soldiers began to use the sapper shovels they carried with them to remove the blood stains left in the trenches and other places little by little.

Opening some of the backpacks, some of the German soldiers in black uniforms began to change into the Soviet uniforms they had prepared long ago, and some picked up the Soviet Mosin Nagant rifles and carefully wiped the blood stains on them.

In some of the trenches, the Germans had carved out small hidden pits and stuffed their assault rifles and anti-tank rocket launchers into these hidden positions, and more soldiers were burying the bodies, using some trench sections that they felt were not perfect.

All the work was carried out in an orderly manner under the faint light of a flashlight, and the Soviet company headquarters at this time sounded a piercing telephone ringing. The German officer, who had been waiting for a long time, grabbed the phone and said softly in a cold voice different from just now: "Good evening, comrade...... The password 'Azalea', yes, everything is normal. ”

He fiddled with the Soviet company commander's officer ID and smiled and talked about the weather with the caller, and after a few moments of chatting, he hung up the phone and gave a smile worth playing. He threw the card to the German soldier across the table, who carefully wrote the Soviet officer's name on a blank Soviet officer ID card with a German officer's photo.