Viktor didn't understand Polish, so he naturally couldn't comprehend what these people were shouting, but he imagined it was nothing more than desperate cries. When people are driven to a dead end, such cries are instinctive.
As the crowd began to scatter and flee in all directions, Viktor held his breath and raised his right hand, making a downward chopping motion.
"Thump thump thump..."
The moment his hand dropped, the heavy machine guns roared across the wilderness. The distant forest birds, startled by the noise, took flight, forming a dense flock that drew a "C" shaped arc in the sky, heading towards the southern horizon.
In the instant the machine guns fired, Viktor's mind went blank for a moment, and then he had a strange thought: those scenes from movies and TV shows he had seen in his previous life were not realistic at all.
A cloud of blood mist rose from the crowd swept by the machine gun fire. Some people had half their heads blown off on the spot, others had their necks half severed by bullets. Limbs flew everywhere, creating a scene more hellish than hell itself.
In just a minute or two, all the Polish prisoners who were hit and fell near the pit had turned into either intact or mutilated corpses. A few who weren't killed instantly lay in the pile of bodies, groaning and writhing.
Viktor stood rigidly in place, witnessing the entire process. He felt his chest tighten, his throat itch, and his stomach churn as if a rat were gnawing inside, making him want to vomit.
However, he managed to hold it in. Merkulov already had issues with him, and if he vomited now, he would be seen as weak and incompetent.
Although Viktor held back, many others couldn't, including Sophia, who squatted down and vomited on the spot.
Viktor felt eyes on him from behind. He knew whose gaze it was and understood what the person wanted to see from him.
Maintaining a calm expression, he drew his pistol from his waist and strode towards the pile of corpses near the pit, finishing off those who were still alive. At this moment, he could only comfort himself that he was ending their suffering, as they wouldn't survive anyway.
Mechanically aiming, pulling the trigger, watching the wounded on the ground stop moving, then mechanically aiming at the next one, pulling the trigger, and changing magazines... When he finally saw no one else moving, he holstered his hot pistol and turned to wave at the truck nearby.
Six or seven prisoners wearing shackles were driven off a truck and escorted to the pit by several soldiers. Their task was to dispose of all the bodies into the pit.
One by one, the scattered bodies were thrown into the pit. Then, the next batch of prisoners to be executed was brought over, followed by more machine gun fire and the disposal of bodies into the pit. This process repeated until the pit was nearly full. In a matter of hours, nearly seven hundred prisoners of war were buried underground in this remote wilderness by the unnamed river, becoming fertilizer for the wild grass.
When the pit filled with corpses was finally covered up, Viktor felt numb. The intense smell of blood no longer nauseated him; he just felt an overwhelming thirst and an urgent need for a drink.
Merkulov, with a stern expression, walked over from a distance. Standing beside Viktor and watching the soldiers assembling, he said, "In the next two days, arrange confidentiality training for your men, then give them a vacation. You can decide the location, but submit a report, and I will personally approve it."
"Yes, Comrade Commissar," Viktor replied, forcing himself to stay composed.
"My impression of you has changed, Lieutenant," Merkulov said with a slight smile on his stern face. "Remember what I told you: no matter what happens, always remember your stance. For a state security officer, only a firm stance will prevent issues."
Viktor didn't respond verbally, but nodded vigorously.
Without further acknowledgment, Merkulov walked away with his hands behind his back. Viktor quickly followed suit, not daring to be negligent.
The camp that previously held prisoners was now empty. The soldiers who had been guarding the prisoners were dismantling the tattered tents and watchtowers. These dismantled items would be burned on-site to erase all traces. Perhaps decades or centuries later, someone might discover the pit filled with bodies. However, it's more likely that it would remain hidden forever, never to be found.
Before the executions, Viktor had signed confidentiality agreements. According to the level of confidentiality and declassification period, these documents were classified as permanently sealed. They would be stored in the archives of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs, never to see the light of day.
On the clearing at the top of the hill, Viktor watched as Merkulov's car disappeared into the forest. Only then did he reach into his pocket with a trembling hand to take out half a pack of cigarettes.
"Give me one too," Sofia said beside him in a noticeably trembling voice. "Thanks."
Viktor looked at her, pulled out a cigarette, handed it over, and lit it for her. She took a deep drag and then coughed violently. "Watching hundreds of people get executed is not pleasant for anyone, even if the executed are enemies," Viktor said.
"Ugh..." Sofia gagged again, bending over with one hand on her chest and the other holding the cigarette, gripping Viktor's arm. After a long moment, she recovered and said weakly, "I don't know what this means to others, but for me, even the toughest times in the past were easier to endure than what I just witnessed."
Viktor used his arm to support Sofia until she could stand up straight again. He sighed and said, "For me, the work at Shevchenkove back then seemed much more pleasant than now."
Sofia didn't respond immediately. She took another careful puff of her cigarette, avoiding getting choked this time, and then said, "Alright, I just want to leave here immediately. The slightest whiff of the blood here will give me nightmares."
Viktor agreed with her. Without lingering any longer, he headed down the slope toward the parking area.
Night fell at the Drohobych Salt Mine.
On the road leading from the city to the salt mine, a GAZ truck with its headlights on slowly approached the entrance checkpoint. The nearest spotlight within the factory compound, controlled by a guard, cast a bright and somewhat blinding beam onto the truck.
Two armed guards emerged from the checkpoint. One stood guard at the entrance, while the other, holding a dog on a leash, approached the truck to check the driver's documents.
The Drohobych Salt Mine is an enterprise with an extremely long history in the Lviv region. It was established in 1250—yes, 1250—and has been in operation for hundreds of years. The mine has as many as thirty-six salt wells, not only producing large quantities but also selling its salt throughout almost all of Europe over the past centuries.
Because of its significance, Moscow placed great importance on this mine. During the execution of the Lviv Plan, the salt mine was one of the critical facilities that needed protection. After the Soviet army took over Lviv, the mine was directly taken over by the military, and an entire regiment was stationed there to ensure its security.
The guard holding the dog quickly checked the documents, returned them to the driver, and then led the somewhat restless dog to the back of the truck.
The truck bed was covered with a canvas tarp. The guard lifted the tarp and looked inside, finding it filled with bulging sacks. Judging by the Russian letters on the bags, they contained titanium powder, a material used in processing within the salt mine.
Using a flashlight, the guard inspected the truck bed thoroughly. After confirming there were no issues, he covered the canvas again and began to walk back with the increasingly excited dog, ready to signal the checkpoint to let the truck pass.
However, just as the guard was walking back, the previously restless dog suddenly began barking furiously, standing on its hind legs and lunging towards the truck bed as if it had gone mad.
Instantly, the guard became alert. He released the leash, reached for the rifle slung over his shoulder, and prepared to react.
At almost the same moment, the truck's cab door was flung open. A burly man leaned out of the door, aimed a pistol at the guard, and fired four shots in quick succession.
All of this happened very suddenly. When the gunshots rang out, the spotlight from within the compound had just moved away. As the gunfire erupted, the blinding beam of light swung back, shakily illuminating the truck.
At this moment, the truck started moving, and gunfire from inside the cab killed the guard on the other side of the checkpoint. The military dog, however, remained relentless. It sprang from the back of the truck directly into the canvas-covered bed. Moments later, a man's scream came from inside the truck bed, followed by two gunshots mixed with the dog's whimper.
An ear-piercing alarm sounded within the compound, and the spotlight's beam was soon joined by a rain of machine-gun fire directed at the truck. Before the truck could ram through the checkpoint's barrier, its front end was riddled with bullets, making it look like a honeycomb.