The sun was setting over the slopes of High Castle Hill in Lviv. A three-wheeled motorcycle slowly came to a stop by the roadside, followed closely by a truck with a canopy. As the vehicles halted, a large group of soldiers, wearing brown-green military uniforms and blue caps, quickly disembarked from the truck and spread out along both sides of the street.
Viktor jumped down from the motorcycle and glanced towards a nearby intersection. There, an abandoned tram lay on the road, its windows nearly all shattered. Interestingly, beside the tram stood a traffic policeman in a black uniform with a white armband, stubbornly holding his ground and staring blankly into space.
The soldiers who had come to set up roadblocks with Viktor were an eclectic mix, particularly in their attire, which was hastily assembled. To identify themselves to the approaching German troops, they had to wear official military uniforms, but finding enough of these security force uniforms in Lviv wasn't easy.
Altogether, including Viktor himself and Sophia acting as a translator, there were only twenty-eight people. Their task here was to set up roadblocks and negotiate with the German forces attempting to enter the city.
Despite the existence of an alliance treaty between the Soviets and Germans, this was still a risky move. Success or failure depended entirely on the German commander. If they followed the rules, everything would proceed smoothly. If not, this small team of less than thirty soldiers wouldn't stand a chance against a round of machine gun fire.
Perhaps the imminent return of hope had greatly boosted the morale of these guerrilla soldiers. They were now in high spirits, busy constructing barriers under the command of a sergeant from the truck bed, completely unaware of the impending danger.
Viktor stood by the motorcycle, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, betraying the calm expression he wore. It was uncertain when the Germans would appear or what would happen when they did, but Viktor had no retreat now.
"Hey, Yura!" Sophia's first act upon getting off the motorcycle was to tug at the hem of her military jacket, accentuating her ample bosom. With one foot on the motorcycle's rear wheel, she shouted towards a soldier who was carrying wooden stakes nearby, "Go chase away that idiot over there. We need anti-tank ditches here, not damn traffic control."
"Yes, Comrade Sophia," the soldier called Yura responded promptly, setting down his load and motioning for two others to accompany him towards the bewildered traffic policeman.
Viktor glanced at his watch; it was nearly six in the evening. If the Germans didn't choose to enter the city today, then by this time tomorrow, the vanguard of the Soviet troops would likely be advancing into Lviv.
As the commotion on the nearby street grew louder, the traffic policeman, dragged away like a rabid dog, was shouting at the top of his lungs, engaged in a scuffle with three soldiers near the square at the intersection.
"What's going on?" Viktor asked Sophia, furrowing his brow as he couldn't understand the man's Polish.
"He's a nationalist obsessed with the authoritarian government," Sophia shrugged, saying, "He claims we're aggressors and refuses to leave his post."
The reference to the authoritarian government naturally pointed towards the Polish government, her tone laced with heavy sarcasm.
"Forget about him," Viktor waved his hand dismissively, saying, "We've got our own work to do. There's no time to waste on a madman."
Perhaps to confirm his statement, the distant sound of engines could be vaguely heard from some direction. Viktor's heart skipped a beat, instinctively straightening up and casting his gaze towards the other side of the intersection.
The three soldiers who had been dealing with the traffic policeman also noticed the unusual noise. Abandoning the stubborn man, they swiftly returned. Without external interference, the traffic cop in black uniform ceased his shouting, straightened his attire, and returned to his earlier position, staring blankly at the empty street.
The rumbling of engines grew clearer, and soon, the sound of metal clanking became distinct. The cobblestone pavement began to tremble, as if a vast army was charging towards them.
Everyone, including Viktor, was tense, feeling the density of the air increase suddenly. Normal breathing became difficult; only by taking deep breaths through wide-open mouths could their lungs be satisfied.
"For the Soviet Union!" Someone shouted loudly amidst the tense atmosphere. Almost instinctively, Viktor opened his mouth to join in, but a sense of shame made him swallow the words back down.
"For the Soviet Union!" Despite Viktor's silence, a majority of the soldiers echoed the call, though their voices were uneven, lacking in unity and vigor.
"For our Motherland!" Another voice continued the chant.
"For our Motherland!" This time, the voices were more synchronized and powerful, dispersing the heavy tension in the air. Viktor glanced back and saw that the group of soldiers who had come with them had already set up rudimentary defenses behind the makeshift barricade. The defenses looked flimsy and inadequate, but no one was planning to flee.
After about two or three minutes, the roar of engines became discernible in direction. Simultaneously, a tank slowly appeared on the street to the west of the crossroads. It was a downhill street, so first visible was the barrel of the tank, followed by the open turret and the half-body of the German commander standing outside the turret.
The tank seemed to roll over something, causing its body to shake twice. Suddenly, the right side of the tank lifted off the ground, accelerated forward for a stretch, and mounted the crest of the slope, revealing the entire tank on the empty square at the intersection.
Following closely behind on both sides of the tank, German infantry soldiers appeared one after another. The commander, with half of his body exposed outside the tank turret, evidently spotted Viktor's group across the street. He gestured to the infantry on both sides and then tapped on the turret roof.
Following his command, coordinated German infantry began to leisurely position themselves across the street. Two machine guns were set up, and the tank's barrel began to adjust its elevation, poised to launch an attack at any moment.
Viktor adjusted his collar one last time. He exchanged a glance with the visibly tense Sophia, then picked up a small flag with a hammer and sickle that he had prepared earlier. With determined strides, he walked towards the opposite side of the street. Logically, raising a white flag at this moment would be the safest course of action. However, the reality was that if he dared to appear with a white flag during negotiations, he would certainly end up in prison later.
The tank engine quieted down. The German commander, wearing sunglasses, observed Viktor's approach with interest. Fortunately, as Viktor crossed the entire intersection, no order to attack was issued. However, in passing through the central part of the intersection, the damned traffic policeman unexpectedly spat vehemently at him, yelling something that startled Viktor, who was focused on dealing with the Germans.
Crossing the not-so-wide intersection, Viktor stopped beside a fire hydrant. At this moment, the rays of the setting sun cast from a nearby building's corner, dividing the street into a line of sunlight and shadow. The German tank stood in the shadow, while Viktor stood at the line where light and shadow intersected.
"Respected Commander of the German Defense Forces," Viktor halted, glanced at the German commander who remained on the tank, and spoke loudly, "I am Lieutenant Viktor Viktorovich Tarasov of the Soviet Socialist Republics Alliance. At three forty-five this afternoon, in accordance with the orders of the People's Commissariat of Defense, our forces have successfully taken over Lviv's transportation, city defense, public security, and broadcasting services. According to the Alliance Friendship Treaty signed between our countries, Lviv, as an inherent territory of the Alliance, should belong to us in this joint operation and will be considered our reclaimed territory after the war ends. In the spirit of mutual assistance and friendship between our nations, Commander, I request that you comply with the agreement and lead your troops to withdraw from the city center of Lviv."
Having finished speaking, Viktor reached into the pocket of his uniform and took out his own identification, holding it up with one hand. It was only at this moment that Sophia, following behind him, began to translate what he had said.
The German commander on the tank stared at him for a while before gesturing to a soldier below.
Receiving the order, a German soldier quickly approached, took Viktor's documents, and delivered them to the German commander.
"Lieutenant Viktor," the German commander said in surprisingly fluent Russian after examining Viktor's documents, "you claim to have control over Lviv's transportation, city defense, public security, and broadcasting services, but..."
He pointed towards the position where the traffic policeman had been, smiling as he continued, "Do you hear what that man is shouting? He's shouting 'Long live Poland, all vile aggressors will perish!' Hey, this doesn't prove any of the things you just said."
"He's just a madman," Viktor glanced back, then turned back with a smile, "We can never control a madman's mind."
The German commander handed Viktor's documents to a soldier to return them, stating, "My orders are to attack Lviv, not hand it over to you. Therefore, my next actions will require me to seek permission from higher authorities."
"Then, my suggestion is that until your superior's orders are issued, both sides consider our current positions as the base and allow the soldiers some time to rest," Viktor immediately proposed.
"In principle, I am willing to accept your proposal, Lieutenant Viktor," the German commander replied, nodding his head.