Eight Hundred and Six Night Ghosts

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"I said, this night is not very peaceful, and the Germans don't know what tricks to play, so they have to cheer up." A Soviet platoon leader walked up to the soldiers on guard in the fortifications, and nodded Picking up his cigarette, he reminded him. He is a second-generation official from Moscow with a background. For front-line soldiers, cigarettes are quite precious, and he always seems to be able to conjure more.

It is precisely because his identity is 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. Judging from the standard of the entire defense, this place is considered solid. There are bridgeheads at both ends of the bridge, and there are machine gun positions for security around it. 140 people.

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

"Don't worry, Comrade Platoon Leader, did you see the guard post over there? It's the place where there is a figure. If there is any abnormal situation, he will fire a warning shot. When the time comes, the machine gun on our side will go off. Who is there?" I can't rush through." The soldier standing guard took the cigarette given by the officer and said enthusiastically.

Nodding, the platoon leader walked towards the other side of the dark bridge with his Mosin Nagant rifle on his back. For the sake of safety, the headquarters of the entire company, as well as some hidden fortifications for officers to rest, were built on the other side of the bridge, so that even if the Germans came suddenly and captured the bridgehead here, the other side The troops could continue to resist—or to give the officials time to run.

At the outpost in the distance, a soldier was sitting on a sandbag with a gun in his hand, looking up at the night that had been calmed down by the cessation of shelling. The cold wind was blowing, and he didn't seem to care about his exposure outside. Neck, raised his head motionless, just raised his head so quietly.

Facing the direction of the German positions, his pale face showed a frightened expression. 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 lay on his back like that head. A sharp knife cut open his neck, blood had already flowed all over his clothes, and that deep wound made his head tilt up so strangely.

And in the trench at the foot of the corpse, three Soviet soldiers were lying on the ground in a haphazard manner, with fatal wounds on their bodies. This place has obviously been attacked by someone, but no one knows where the person who attacked here is now.

"Hey! It's time to change the guard, don't be lazy!" After smoking the cigarette in his mouth, the Soviet soldier who had just introduced the layout of the outpost to his platoon leader, called the recruits behind him without looking back. , but he doesn't seem to notice,

A sharp dagger has gone around his neck from behind.

A German special forces soldier with black oil paint on his face and a black special helmet, like a ghost, silently slashed the cold special knife at the poor Soviet soldier—from the moment he spoke, until His throat was slit and he quietly accepted his death. Until he died, he couldn't figure out why the Soviet recruits behind him killed him so viciously.

It's a pity that the friendly recruit he thought was attacking him was already 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 from his mouth and neck. He couldn't yell, and even the anti-aircraft artillery positions that were close at hand couldn't hear his voice.

Even if he desperately beat the soil under his feet in the trench with his hands, no one would bother him anymore, because at the anti-aircraft artillery position not far away, several German soldiers had killed all the Soviet soldiers. The slight and regular sound of da da told the surrounding soldiers that they had completed their tasks.

Taking advantage of the dim lights in the camp near the bridge, two German soldiers raised their crossbows. Their target was the Soviet platoon leader who had just walked to the third position on the railway bridge. They aimed their weapons at the target. Behind them, German special forces soldiers with MP-44 assault rifles bent over one after another, and approached the opposite side bit by bit from both sides of the railway bridge, sticking to the railings. .

The platoon leader heard heavy footsteps behind him, like the slight rustling of the wind blowing through the trees. He frowned, turned around suspiciously, and the cigarette dangling from his mouth became an excellent indicator for firing in a slightly dark environment. Two crossbow arrows flew in, one pierced his chest, and the other hit his stomach. The impact made him stagger, and he couldn't react in his mind at all, what happened.

"I'm going back to Moscow soon...my father is a high-ranking official...how wonderful the future is for me..." The Soviet platoon leader was full of unwillingness and regret. When he felt the pain, he subconsciously thought When he was about to yell out, the back of his head had already hit the ground heavily, and he fell to the ground.

"Someone!" He uttered two words like a ****, and his mouth was covered by the hand of a passing German special forces soldier. A cold bayonet was inserted into his throat, and when it was pulled out, there was a trace of unforgettable pain, and then the bayonet was inserted into his chest again, causing the second generation of the Soviet Union to close himself s eyes.

Soon, one trench after another, one position after another, was occupied by German special forces in pitch black in such a state of silence. The face hangs down, and it is easy to cut the detonating wire used by the bomb fixed by the Soviet defenders on the bridge.

"Who!" When the German troops touched the headquarters here, a Soviet soldier finally discovered the problem. Just as he shouted a word while holding the weapon, four crossbow bolts pierced through his body at the same time. He watched the crossbow arrows that were stuck in his body fall down like a puddle of mud.

But this shout finally woke up the living Soviet defenders, but now there are only two pitiful people alive. The Soviet officer in the company headquarters pushed the door out with his clothes on, but what was waiting for him was a cold pistol, which was pressed against his forehead.

"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 military officer still wears black woolen gloves on the palm of his hand holding the pistol , similar to the "thunderbolt glove" design in the 1980s, with fingers exposed, and a similar pocket design that can be folded to the front.

"Don't shoot! I am willing to cooperate! I am actually Ukrainian! I am really Ukrainian!" Raising his hands high, the Soviet officer begged tremblingly. 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.

"How strange! Captain!" A German soldier held his MP-44 assault rifle and said in German to the leading officer with a smile: "We have come to Russia, but we have never met a single Russian. This is not Ukrainians are Belarusians."

What he said made the German special forces around him laugh. He pointed a pistol at the German officer of the Soviet company commander and asked in German: "If you don't tell the truth, I will kill you. Come on, today!" What is the password tonight?"

"Azalea!" After being hit hard on the forehead with a pistol, the Soviet company commander closed his eyes and shouted the password he knew. Several German soldiers who had questioned other Soviet soldiers nodded, and it seemed that all of them spoke the same password.

"Boom!" Before the other party could react, the German officer shot and exploded the head of the unlucky company commander. With this gunshot, the entire bridge was once again silent.

"Okay! Boys! Work, work!" The German officer clapped his hands and ordered loudly. So the German soldiers began to use the engineering shovel they carried with them to remove the blood left in the trenches and other places bit by bit.

Unpacking some rucksacks, some German soldiers in black military uniforms began to change into the Soviet military uniforms they had prepared earlier. Some picked up the Soviet Mosin Nagant rifles and carefully wiped the blood on them.

On the pit walls of some trenches, the German army opened small hidden pits, and stuffed their assault rifles and anti-tank rocket launchers into these hidden positions. The perfect trench location to bury these bodies.

All the work was carried out in an orderly manner under the faint light of the flashlight, while the Soviet company headquarters rang harshly at this time. The German officer who had been waiting by the side grabbed the phone and said softly in a different voice than before, "Good evening, comrade... the password is 'Azalea', yes, everything is normal."

While fiddling with the officer's ID of the Soviet company commander, he smiled and talked about the weather with the caller. After chatting for a while, he hung up the phone and showed a smile worth pondering. He threw the ID to the German soldier across the table, and the German soldier carefully wrote the name of the Soviet officer on a blank Soviet officer's ID with a photo of the German officer on it.

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