Eight Hundred and Ninety-Five in the Quiet Rain

As the saying goes, the face of a child in April is even more so on the muddy land of the Soviet Union. It was sunny and cloudless just now, and it started to rain in a blink of an eye, and the rain became heavier and heavier, which seemed to be continuous.

The raindrops hit the eaves, making a tick-tick sound; the raindrops hit the cold gun barrels, making a clanging sound; the raindrops hitting the corpses made a muffled crackling sound. On the battlefield where there is no battle, everything is very quiet except for the sounds of nature.

War makes everyone abnormal, because in peaceful times, no one can imagine walking past a dead body as if nothing had happened. Several German soldiers carried their rifles, walked quickly past some cold corpses lying on the ground, and walked into a building not far away that had collapsed into a bungalow.

The roof is no longer a rainproof roof, but the floor that was originally renovated on the second floor, and there is a crooked wooden wardrobe in the corner. The mottled bullet holes on it prove that there was also a fierce exchange of fire there. Everything here has seen battle, and has left an eternal memory of the battle.

The last German infantryman to enter the house took off his helmet, revealing his fine blond hair. He squeezed the helmet and shook it forcefully towards the door, throwing the rainwater on the helmet out of the door.

A rain made △≥ the entire battlefield quiet down, except for the sound of rain, there was no longer the roar of cannons, nor the roar of machine guns. Stalingrad no longer had the hustle and bustle of yesterday, only a somewhat frightening tranquility remained.

"Come here to warm up!" A Ukrainian veteran greeted the young Ukrainian boys who had just entered the room in the corner. There he lit a simple marching stove, the alcohol block still burning inside.

A pot of water was already boiling and steaming. The few people who came in quickly gathered around and stretched out their hands, wanting to feel the warmth brought by the hot water. Although the weather in April is no longer so cold, after being hit by rain, there is a warm place to sit for a while , which is obviously something to be thankful for.

The young Ukrainian soldier sat down against the wall, feeling the warmth from the corner stove while looking at the room where he was about to fight. There are bullet holes and bloodstains on the walls. It seems that you can find bullet holes and bloodstains everywhere in Stalingrad.

"We were ordered to strengthen the defense here. How many Soviets are there on the opposite side? How far are they from here?" A forty-year-old middle-aged man with a rifle on his back squinted at the window and glanced at the people across the small square. The ruins at the other end asked.

The Ukrainian veteran lit a cigarette for himself, then curled his lips and said: "The opposite is a battalion of the 2nd Regiment of the 66th Division of the Soviet Union. There are about 200 people left, and they have not been replaced. They occupied the ruins, For almost two days, we didn't attack and they didn't fight back."

Compared with when we first entered Stalingrad,

The equipment of the Ukrainian Volunteers has been improved a lot. At least they now have a marching stove for hot things and alcohol blocks. Occasionally, they can eat fried noodles and potato flour. They even have cigarettes and canned food as rewards after the battle.

Their combat effectiveness has been doubled after the tempering of the war. With the intensive artillery support of the German army and the infiltration of snipers and special forces, the death rate of Ukrainian soldiers has plummeted, and it has been able to maintain a ratio of 1 to 2 with the Soviet army. 1 to 3 on the horizontal line.

Here, in this city, more than 60,000 Ukrainian soldiers have been killed, and 20,000 troops from other regions, including the Germans, have been killed. This means that the Soviet Union, in this battle for the city, Over 200,000 troops were lost.

This is no longer a war, but a contest between soldiers on both sides with their lives at stake. 17,000 German soldiers died in Stalingrad. Their suicide notes will be mailed back to their hometowns along with their clothing and wage subsidies, and will be sent to their homes by the local top military officials.

"It's really a lucky weather." The middle-aged Ukrainian soldier with a gun on his back sneered, found a slightly cleaner corner, sat down and closed his eyes to rest, and soon he hummed softly. The snoring sound, the war seems to be far away from the soldiers in this room at this moment.

On the water of the Volga River, many ripples were made by the raindrops. Rokossovsky was standing on the west bank of the Volga River on the Stalingrad side, watching ferry boats full of soldiers moving slowly in his direction.

The terrible Stuka dive bombers of the German Naval Air Force could not take off in such bad weather, which gave the Soviet army the opportunity to take advantage of the rain to rush supplies and soldiers into the city of Stalingrad. If possible, Rokossovsky would rather the heavy rain continue like this, at least he would not have to face those lingering German planes.

"Quick! Organize those big ships to transport ammunition! Before the rain stops, we must scramble to transport the most ammunition across the river. Speed ​​up! Speed ​​up!" There was someone holding an umbrella at Rokossovsky Station, but his His subordinates didn't have such good luck, or he didn't dare to be too pretentious in front of his superiors, so he stood in the heavy rain by himself and directed the dispatch of the ships.

A light boat leaned against the river bank, and it was full of Soviet recruits who had been drenched by the heavy rain. These recruits jumped out of the boat one by one, and then held their hats that had been soaked for a long time with their hands, It's like hugging your head in surrender.

The slightly larger ships were either used to transport valuables such as bullets and medicines, or had been sunk by German planes. The ships in the hands of the Soviets were getting smaller and smaller, sometimes even so small that they could only accommodate a dozen people Degree.

When the weather is good, the German planes will bomb along the river bank to find out and sink the slightly larger ships that have been camouflaged. The smaller the ships, the better the camouflage, so these surviving ships are all smaller kind of.

"Put it down! Put your hands down!" Rokossovsky frowned slightly, and before he could speak, an officer in charge of the reception walked over and shouted at the recruits: "Stand in line! Go up here! There will be someone to receive you! Go! Go!"

The recruits were greeted not only by the bomb craters scattered by the river, but also by piled up and damaged cannons, cars and other weapons. The camouflaged field hospital was full of disabled soldiers who needed to be evacuated to the rear, and groups of Sick soldiers waiting in line to receive anti-inflammatory drugs.

So these recruits were walking by the muddy river, one foot deep and one foot shallow. They walked up the river bank one by one and were divided into teams. Some warehouses and factory buildings that have not completely collapsed.

Rokossovsky didn't speak. As far as he could see, about two or three small boats arrived here at the same time. The people jumped off the boat, and the ground that had been tossed into mud by the rain and the soldiers in front Walking up and down, these soldiers staggered, and most of them looked at Rokossovsky standing on a high place overlooking everything with strange eyes.

No one can remember how many ships of soldiers were sent to the city of Stalingrad, but everyone knows that the wounded who were taken away by the departing ships were not even one-tenth of the number of soldiers brought in. In other words, there are tens of thousands of soldiers who no longer need to leave. They will be integrated with this city and can no longer be separated.

"How's the food consumption? Is it enough to plan in advance?" Rokossovsky suddenly asked the assistant behind him blankly, watching the soldiers being unloaded on the shore one after another. But what he was feeling in his heart was, "Such a ship of people, maybe one shell will kill them all..."

His assistant put his head a little closer, and said to his superior: "Comrade General, because the number of soldiers killed in battle is too large, we have left a lot of food reserves, except for a small part that was destroyed by the German bombing. Most are very safe and ready to use."

"Well... don't be stingy." Rokossovsky nodded after listening to what the assistant said, and then continued to order in that calm tone: "Give these new soldiers some more food, let them To die for the motherland, no matter what, let them have a full meal before going to die."

"Yes! Comrade General, I understand." The assistant immediately agreed that food distribution was not a big deal, and he didn't need to express his opinion on such a trivial matter. Compared with these trivial matters, he cared more about how to find a better excuse to leave this terrible city.

Compared with the high survival rate of German soldiers, the loss ratio of Soviet soldiers fighting in Stalingrad is quite high. Often thousands of people are pulled to the front line, and within a few hours, only half of them are left. Even a third. There are almost no supplementary soldiers who can survive the first day here, and those veterans are also in a state of being killed anytime and anywhere.

After such a heavy rain, can I have at least 50,000 more soldiers who can fight? Rokossovsky was somewhat relieved, this group of supplementary soldiers may be able to make him continue to persevere.

"Send a telegram to Moscow and once again ask Marshal Zhukov to lead troops to the south for support as soon as possible." Rokossovsky turned and walked back: "It's not a solution after all to stay here...Zhukov, you won't even make such a simple statement. things, don’t you know?”