When the number of deployed fighter planes was sufficient to control the entire battlefield, Soviet pilots finally diverted their attention to the small hill where Lynn was located. Although the scattered foxholes in the woods might not be directly observable from the air, two IL-2s still swooped down from different directions and strafed with machine guns and cannons. The devastating firepower directly shattered several pine trees, and the fallen branches, along with the accumulated snow, created a peculiar rain. Lynn lay flat in the bottom of a shell hole, not daring to raise his head even as various debris fell on him. The air was filled with the roar of planes, the explosions of bombs, the whirring of machine guns and cannons, and the furious roar of the "Butcher"!
Vaguely, Lynn heard the words "Goering" and "Berlin". He speculated that the "Butcher" might be cursing Goering's incompetence. The guy had diverted the main strength of the German Air Force to defend Berlin, yet Berlin had been under constant bombardment by the Allies.
If it weren't for Goering, Lynn thought, perhaps Germany wouldn't have suffered such a great regret in losing this war. Foolish, arrogant, and incompetent, sometimes he couldn't understand why the Führer treated such a person as his right-hand man and allowed him to do as he pleased. Compared to trusted assistants like Hess, who were in the early stages of their political careers, they didn't receive such treatment.
There were many such historical questions, and out of love for military affairs, Lynn had briefly served as a moderator in a World War II forum discussion area, where he had seen the diverse thoughts of netizens. The questions from novices were always amusing, and some fanatical and stubborn individuals showed extreme stubbornness in certain aspects, while most people, including Lynn, viewed and discussed that period of history from a purely military perspective. "What if Germany had won the war, what would China's fate be like?" Lynn had long been accustomed to such concerns and doubts, laughing them off. At that time, in his view, time travel back to the past existed only in fantasy.
Opportunities sometimes fell into the hands of those who were unprepared.
The pungent smell of gunpowder gradually dissipated, and Lynn subconsciously looked up, feeling his own movement akin to that of a puppy shaking off water, except he lacked the calmness and composure of a dog.
However, nobody could truly remain calm when witnessing the devastated defenses and fallen comrades.
After exhausting their ammunition in the continuous strafing, the Soviet aircraft finally departed. Before their figures completely disappeared from view, Lynn turned to look at the two Tiger tanks. They still burned calmly, showing no signs of restarting, and the tightly closed hatches remained shut...
Sheltered by defensive fortifications, the casualties among the German infantry in this air raid were actually not significant. On the hill where Lynn was, only one soldier was killed, and two were injured, while the four-man combat group led by the "Butcher" suffered no casualties. However, at this moment, Lynn could keenly feel the rapid decline in morale, or more precisely, his own morale had also been greatly diminished by the continuous bombardment from the enemy.
Looking at the ravaged defenses, Lynn couldn't help but sigh: It was time to retreat!
Sure enough, about twenty minutes later, the order to retreat came. After receiving the retreat order, "Butcher," who had been fearless in battle, casually packed up weapons and personal belongings. Lynn no longer had the courage to fight a rearguard action, but still silently waited for his immediate superior, and when the Waffen-SS corporal took a step forward with his submachine gun, Lynn and his two companions, as expected, fell into the last position of the queue.
Despite the helplessness, Lynn had no complaints. He tried to straighten his chest so that he could live up to his role as a "first-class field marksman" and "steel defender."
At this moment, the retreating column was shrouded in an invisible sadness, but the soldiers still maintained order spontaneously. Only three vehicles were used to transport the wounded and tow anti-tank guns. The surviving gunners either sat on the gun carriage or walked among the infantry. Those unable to ride in vehicles, whether limping with crutches or lying on stretchers, were slowly moving forward with the help of their comrades.
There was no complaining here, no friction, and everyone tried their best to maintain the demeanor of a soldier, even the wounded refrained from groaning.
As they passed the wreckage of the two Tiger tanks, the German infantry spontaneously slowed down or stopped for a moment, with many silently saluting. These two steel tombs buried the finest warriors of the Empire, who, although they had not become ace pilots, had made the greatest efforts. They were fledgling eagles who died in the wind, ice crystals dissipating in the sunlight; their combat spirit and skills were comparable to any tank ace of the same era!
Even the most callous person would be moved by this silent scene.
On the highway extending from the village to the north, a retreat column of over a thousand German soldiers marched in a majestic manner, while hundreds of soldiers retreated from the flanking positions. They moved directly along the edge of the woods towards the north, perhaps due to the long road and few people, gradually spreading out. To the extent that they looked sparse, like a group of strangers. But in fact, these individuals took it upon themselves to protect the flanks of the column. Every so often, non-commissioned officers or older soldiers would climb nearby hills to keep watch until familiar or unfamiliar soldiers passed by, before picking up the pace to catch up.
With a "MP40" on his back, a Mauser 98k in hand, and a battered M42 steel helmet on his head, Lynn quietly walked behind his comrades. The battles experienced over the past ten hours flashed through his mind like a carousel. From the collapse of the front line, to ambushes in the woods, encounters with Soviet air raids and tank pursuits, to blocking Soviet infantry twice, these were things he dared not even imagine before he crossed into the war era. More importantly, not only did he persevere, but he also mastered the art of killing - he had personally dispatched more enemies than he had killed chickens or ducks in the past! However, killing did not give him pleasure or make him addicted. From the initial fear and ignorance to the current confusion, he continued to struggle with one "why" after another.
This was a war without a visible victory. Was fighting just to satisfy the most basic need of survival, and nothing more?
Lynn's reverie was suddenly interrupted by the whistling shells. Caught off guard, he was startled. Hastily turning around, he saw billowing smoke on the distant horizon. Needless to say, it was those feared and hated Soviet tanks causing this "pollution"!
Shells were harbingers of death, and the successive "sharp killers" swiftly claimed one life after another. The German infantry marching along the highway hurriedly dispersed, but the Soviets seemed to never worry about ammunition; their tanks and self-propelled guns fired fiercely from seven or eight kilometers away, ignoring the waste caused by most shells missing the target.
Although Lynn, walking along the edge of the woods, was temporarily free from the fear of death, he felt no trace of relief in his heart. Under the leadership of "Butcher" and several other sergeants, everyone began to accelerate. This was a race with death, but victory was not measured by escaping from the battlefield alone. Those companions who scattered away from the road were in great danger. Those who were uninjured or slightly wounded were fine, but those with leg injuries or who needed to be carried on stretchers quickly became helpless in the face of Soviet shelling. So, "Butcher" and his men, disregarding the threat of Soviet shells, ran towards the side of the road, helping their comrades retreat to the north along the way - carrying those with injured legs, two supporting one, and carrying stretchers with four people.
In this situation, Lynn, with all his limbs intact, didn't think much. He began to run while helping a wounded soldier. Unfortunately, in the case of insufficient supplies, this burly soldier still maintained considerable weight, and Lynn had to bear the pressure on his shoulders. At the beginning of the journey, they could still maintain a relatively fast pace, but as their stamina rapidly depleted, the pace of the three slowed significantly, while the Soviet artillery did not relent. Countless shells whistled down, and the huge explosions raised wave after wave of violent air, shaking everyone even if they were lucky enough not to be hit by shrapnel. Once again, overextending their physical strength, once again biting their lips, when Lynn subconsciously glanced over, he was dumbfounded: who else could it be but "Butcher" who was cooperating with him to save lives?