Nine Hundred and Twenty Five Different

A group of SS ceremonial soldiers held guns in both hands and stood in two rows like pines and cypresses. Each of them had strict selection standards for their height, and each soldier had the purest Aryan blood. Their appearance is the most well-behaved Germanic face, so against the background of the m35 helmet, they look handsome and straight.

Among them, people in black suits, black SS uniforms, and army gray-green uniforms stood in a huge square with their heads bowed. In front of them was the tall and thin Führer, the lonely back view.

He just stood there so quietly, standing there like a statue, and not far in front of him was an exquisitely polished coffin. Lying in this coffin is the former prime minister of the empire, the old man Augustus who was once called the prime minister of the empire.

Akado stood here, he remembered that when the cemetery was completed, Augustus had a conversation with him here, the old man once said to Akado: "They lie here, It is a kind of luck, because we are still alive, we can only carry their unfulfilled ideals and continue to walk."

As the highest dictator of the empire, Akado wanted to say to Augustus who was lying in the coffin: It is indeed a kind of luck for you to lie here, but leave the messy things in this empire to others, right? A cowardly escape?

He really wanted to rush up, pull the emaciated corpse out of the coffin, grab the corpse by the collar, and yell loudly: "Get up quickly, there are so many broken things waiting for you to deal with. This empire needs a lot of money!" You and I...need you too."

...

"My Son" On the ruins of Stalingrad, a woman cried and stretched her hand to her son, and the corpse lying in a pile of broken bags never had a chance to hear her Mother's voice was gone.

Several men and women in rags pulled the mad woman vigorously, preventing her from interfering with the simple funeral. A few well-meaning neighbors are helping to dig a shallow grave for the poor boy who died so violently.

Just a few hours ago, this lively little boy was still making money by polishing the boots of German soldiers stationed nearby. Many Ukrainian soldiers and German soldiers have high salaries. They use chocolate and some cans to pay the bills, and let these Soviet civilians living in the occupied areas help, wash clothes or shine shoes.

But now it seems that another skilled shoe shiner has disappeared in this world. He no longer has to run around in dangerous positions for his stomach, and he no longer needs to spend the night of shelling in the corner of the ruins with his ears covered. For the people in this city, death seems to be a kind of relief, an extremely beautiful wish besides making relatives sad.

"God will be with him,

In a good heaven, he will live a happy life. "Over there, the cameo role of the priest is an old man with a beard. He is the "guardian" appointed by the Germans in the nearby occupied area, a role similar to that of a manager.

But obviously he doesn't often do this kind of job of presiding over funerals, so his lines are a bit too unseemly. There will not be such a funeral of their own.

...

"Fire the gun" With the shout of the host of etiquette, the orderly guard of honor raised the steel guns in their hands, as if they were cloned. The sound gathered into a "hula" sound, which spread far away.

The crowd became a little restless. Many women in black dresses began to wipe the tears from the corners of their eyes with white handkerchiefs. Most of the officers held their hats and lowered their heads slightly. The whole atmosphere was so sad that people couldn't help shaking their heads. To the point where, the faint crying is even more heartbreaking.

Father Augustus maintained a very good relationship with the National Defense Forces throughout his life, so except for the generals on the Eastern Front, most of the prominent generals came to attend the state funeral. What's even more valuable is that the high-level SS army also regarded the old man as their best friend, so the SS generals who attended the funeral were densely packed, and it seemed that they were all out.

Because Augustus formulated various excellent policies to stabilize the country, these policies revitalized the German economy, and these policies allowed the German people to live an unprecedentedly good life. So along the way, the common people in Berlin lined the road for the funeral, and the funeral in the cemetery was so large that the living people were a little envious.

The head of state personally carried the coffin, a super-standard ceremonial team, hundreds of people on the funeral list, and even the governor of the British occupied area rushed back. The location of the cemetery where Mr. Augustus was buried is the closest to the center of the entire cemetery, and everyone knows that the most center here is the "position" of the head of state himself.

"Boom" With a uniform gunshot, the smell of gunpowder filled the air. The clergyman with a huge silver cross on his chest softly recited the scriptures mourning the dead. As a devout Christian, Augustus He even consulted the archbishop of Rome for advice on the funeral process. Who would have thought that it would be more reasonable for a midnight phone call across thousands of kilometers to wake up the most powerful magician in the Pope's hall just to consult how to bury a dead person? When power reaches a certain level, even gods must be feared.

...

The expressionless middle-aged man stepped on the cold shovel into the rubble and dirt, then pried it forward vigorously, digging up a shovel of messy dirt. He twisted his body and threw the shovel of dirt into the grave, covering the rags that wrapped the little boy's body.

The sky was gloomy, and it seemed that there was going to be a heavy rain, but no one cared about that, because the Stuka 2 bombers looking for targets and dropping bombs could still be seen in the sky, and the rumbling guns and distant places could still be heard. The sound of continuous machine gun fire.

The child's mother was still crying and crying, because her man had died in battle a month ago, leaving her and an only son living a hard life in Stalingrad. Originally, she was not very friendly to the arrival of the German army. After all, her husband was beaten into a sieve by this group of outsiders.

But life has to go on, no matter how bitter and bitter, she still has to raise her son, so in the end she did some sewing, mending, washing and cleaning at home, and her young son lived with a few children nearby. Similarly, he helped the family by shining shoes for the German occupying forces.

Who knew that the good times would not last long, a shell fired by the Soviets hit her son, and there was no sign of the German army nearby, so only a few teenage children died. The nearby civilians didn't want their children to be exposed to the wilderness like this, so they held such a simple funeral.

In such a hellish city, no one knew whether he would die in the next second. But everyone is still working hard to maintain the last trace of decency, insisting on drawing the distinction between themselves and the beast. Although the people who attended the funeral were all in rags, it could be seen that they had tidied up their attire.

The shovel was thrown over again, and some soil was covered on the child's body. The pale and immature face was splashed with a little soil, which made people feel distressed. Everyone stopped talking, and the woman's crying sound became even more sharp, piercing people's hearts.

...

"He's just like my father..." Akado read the written eulogy manuscript into the microphone with a trembling voice. He didn't let others revise the eulogy he wrote himself, as if he was mourning himself. The children of the elders are as sad.

At the end of the funeral, everyone raised their right hands, densely packed into an ocean in an instant. Although there is no that earth-shaking shout, there is no that familiar slogan, but the German ceremony is still so solemn and passionate.

...

Two ordinary logs were tied into a cross and inserted in front of the small tomb without the owner's name or delicate wreath. But everyone knows that this is a cemetery, because behind this cemetery, there are a total of 300 similar purposes, most of which have broken steel helmets, including Germans and Soviets.

At the base of the building next to it, a group of German soldiers leaned on their backpacks, sundries and ammunition boxes, watching the Soviet civilians bury their dead children with cold eyes. Many people chatted with each other, but they didn't make the usual jokes. The voices of these soldiers lowered a bit, and the deep eyes under the helmets stared at those devout people who seemed to be doing mass.

A young German soldier stood out from the center of a group of German soldiers watching the excitement. Looking at his clothes, he should be a grenadier unit belonging to the 14th Panzer Army, the main force of the N Group Army. The young man with a G43 semi-automatic rifle walked up to the Soviets who were just about to disperse, and shouted in Russian to the silent people.

"Your son has polished shoes for many of us. We enjoyed chatting with him." The young German soldier handed the sack in his hand to the mother of the deceased: "We have some potato flour here, maybe It's not very tasty...but please accept our wishes."

The Germans killed her husband, and the Soviets killed her son. This woman didn't know whether to refuse the enemy's charity. She took the bag numbly and staggered towards the ruins where she lived. .

The third empire discussion group 280015943, everyone is asking recently, so I posted it again, friends who like this book, or friends who like to talk about mountains, can join in.

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