A mere thirty or forty soldiers, armed with only one MG42 and a few rifles and submachine guns, facing off against over ten Soviet tanks—it sounded like something out of a fantasy tale. Crawling on the damp, muddy ground, Lin glanced at his PPSh-41, its sight's maximum range marked at 200m. Would he and his comrades still be alive when those T-34s closed in within 200 meters?
With that thought in mind, he unloaded the last four bullets from his Mauser rifle slung on his back, while carrying the PPSh-41 diagonally across his left shoulder and right waist. Though the effective range of the Mauser rifle was more than twice that of the Soviet submachine gun, it posed no threat to the advancing Soviet tanks. At that moment, a German sergeant pulled out a glass bottle from his backpack, filled with a pale greenish-yellow liquid. He quickly unscrewed the metal cap, sprinkled some of the liquid onto a piece of cloth, then stuffed most of the cloth into the bottle, lighting the end of the cloth protruding from the bottle mouth with a match. Despite the fact that the Soviet tanks were over a kilometer away, far beyond the range of even the strongest person to throw an ordinary bottle, the sergeant still exerted effort to hurl the bottle forward—aided by a slight horizontal elevation from the hill, it flew nearly fifty meters before shattering upon impact, erupting into flames!
In no time, another soldier tossed out a similar incendiary bottle, and soon two flames burned fiercely on the ground. Although the flames were intense, anyone with common sense knew that gasoline alone wouldn't burn for long. Lin realized that the German soldiers were attempting to intimidate the enemy: Don't think we're powerless against you. Look, these Molotov cocktails are enough to make you think twice.
Ancient war elephants feared fire, and while Soviet tanks could certainly roll over these burning areas without fear, they had to beware of the incendiary bottles ready to be unleashed by the German soldiers. The leading tanks didn't noticeably slow down, but several of those behind them instinctively stopped, taking careful aim and repeatedly shelling the position of the German soldiers with tank guns. Flames flickered and shrapnel flew on the small hill.
The nearby high-explosive shells produced intense explosions, and even with his helmet on, Lin could only slightly mitigate the shockwaves assaulting his eardrums—listening to rock music in a bar was thrilling enough, but the shockwaves here were probably ten times stronger! The ground also trembled with each explosion, making Lin feel like he was lying on a bouncing bed, with each bounce causing his internal organs to churn and his joints to ache.
Although the temporary earthworks provided some cover from direct bullet fire, they offered no protection against nearby exploding shells. In no time, several soldiers were directly blasted away, and the number of casualties was difficult to determine at that moment, but if this continued for another ten minutes, these soldiers might all perish!
As they began to climb the slope, the leading Soviet tanks finally slowed down their advance, unable to shell targets less than a kilometer away. The barrels of their turrets were almost pointed downwards, and the tank-mounted machine guns began to fire, showering the hill with bullets, causing snowflakes and mud to fly. In this situation, the sergeant who had previously ordered to defend in place finally shouted out a new command, which Lin couldn't understand—his ears were deafened by the booming explosions. Feeling bewildered and resigned to his fate, Lin suddenly felt the rifle sling on his back being grabbed forcefully—it was the "Butcher" again! With a wave from him, several other soldiers from the same combat team also rose and began to retreat.
As they ran out just a few steps, a shell whistled overhead, and the tremendous impact made Lin feel as if he had been tackled by a burly football player, causing him to lose his balance and fall a meter away. Fortunately, another soldier with big ears along with a helmet came over and helped him up, allowing him to barely keep up with the pace of his comrades. Running tens of meters in an awkward crouched posture, Lin looked back, and most of the soldiers had already retreated, leaving only a few soldiers on the hillside to slow down the Soviet tanks with feeble firepower. It was like trying to stop a chariot with a mantis's arm, like a moth to a flame, and it was also a manifestation of the fearless fighting spirit!
At this moment, Lin's heart was filled with bitterness: the best team might not necessarily win the championship, and it was the same on the battlefield.
At the normal off-road speed of a T-34, even climbing a gentle slope, it would take at most two minutes to cover a distance of one kilometer. However, after leaving the hill, Lin and the others ran for a full four or five minutes before the shells chased them down again. Turning his head, Lin saw that the hill had already fallen into the hands of the Soviet tanks.
During his university's one-kilometer test, Lin had to exert all his strength to finish in just over four minutes. Now, with firearms and equipment on his back, and his body extremely tired, he had somehow managed to run seven or eight hundred meters in the same amount of time. It seemed that the desperate struggle for survival could indeed unleash human potential to a great extent. However, this distance was not enough to ensure their survival. While the density of Soviet tank artillery fire decreased somewhat, the DT machine gun (tank-mounted light machine gun of the Degtyaryov series) still roared behind them. The effective range of the 7.62mm machine gun bullets was 800 meters, and in combat, they could effectively target groups of people and cause direct casualties at this distance. So, the swishing sound of bullets past Lin's ears, and the mud and water splashing on the ground from the bullets hitting it, were constant, and he kept seeing soldiers with big ears falling under enemy fire. Although the situation was completely different, Lin suddenly felt that his fate was not fundamentally different from that of the Soviet POWs shot earlier—the only difference was that this time the bullets were coming from behind.
While running at full speed, Lin had mentally prepared himself to be hit by bullets at any moment. Another ten seconds passed, the number of people around him continued to decrease, but the bullets had yet to find their mark. Suddenly, a soldier running ahead and belonging to the same combat team as Lin was hit in the leg. He trembled violently, let out a painful cry, and fell forward. The "Butcher," who was originally running behind, hurried over to help him up. Between the danger to his own life and the safety of his comrade, Lin had originally intended to choose the former, but the Butcher's actions changed his mind in an instant. Switching his Mauser rifle to his left hand, Lin helped his injured comrade from the right side. With the two of them working together and the injured soldier hopping on one leg, they barely kept up with the retreat of their comrades, but by then, there were less than twenty soldiers left at the rear!
After descending from the hill, the sandy path turned northwest, leading to a small village about five kilometers away. Lin had been running headlong the whole time, without a chance to observe carefully. As he assisted his injured comrade forward, he lifted his head and happened to gaze straight ahead. He strained his eyes to look forward and was surprised to find defensive fortifications surrounding the village, with a conspicuous German flag still flying atop a peaked roof house! Seeing this glimpse of hope, Lin's heart leaped with joy. But just then, the artillery fire from the Soviet tanks suddenly intensified, indicating a ruthless intention to eliminate the remaining dozen or so German soldiers during their retreat.
"Quickly, hurry!" Lin squeezed out familiar words from his lips, knowing full well that those around him may not understand, especially with the deafening roar of the artillery shells dampening everyone's hearing. The soldier being assisted could only hop on one leg, his wound untreated and his strength waning. Despite his pale face devoid of color, his eyes still brimmed with the desire to survive. "The Butcher," stout in stature but half a head shorter than Lin, bore the brunt of the wounded soldier's weight. In this harsh winter, his face flushed red, sweat streaming down his hair and neck, leaving deep footprints with his oversized boots with each step.
Lin's own condition was no better. His legs felt like they were filled with lead, his shoulders carrying the weight of his comrade's arm, feeling as if he couldn't hold on for another moment. With the village drawing nearer and the sight of soldiers in trenches eagerly awaiting them becoming clearer, Lin gritted his teeth and summoned a willpower he had never known. But the sinister artillery shells whistled and screamed overhead, landing less than ten meters to their left. The scorching blast of air hit them hard, sending all three tumbling in the opposite direction.
As they crashed heavily to the ground, Lin's mind was filled with one thought: Is my journey through World War II ending here, God?
His ears ringing, the world in front of Lin shook violently, as if space itself had twisted. Clumps of mud scattered in beautiful parabolas, like fireworks in the night sky. For a moment, his head cleared slightly, and Lin suddenly felt a tearing pain in his left arm. He initially thought it was a shrapnel wound, but the persistent sensation didn't feel like a major injury, suggesting it might be a reopening of a previous wound.
Turning his head laboriously to the left, Lin saw that "The Butcher" and the injured comrade were still moving. Then he turned to the right, where the T-34 tanks appeared like toys in the distance, with a dozen or so advancing toward them. The leading tanks flashed their machine gun fire, while the slightly raised gun barrels occasionally belched smoke, and the whistling shells were imminent, landing closer to the village.
This dire scene left Lin feeling hopeless as he lay on his back, the sky so blue and the clouds so white, as if untouched by the ravages of war. The camaraderie of his comrades, unwavering even in the face of adversity, was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, offering him some solace to end this unexpected journey of war. Suddenly, he remembered a defiant declaration from his era's Israelis:
Even if the world has abandoned us, we will never abandon our own!