Chapter 2729: Bad Man and Broken Gun

"How is it? Is he still breathing?!"

"He's still alive, and he's still breathing!"

"Damn it! Send him to the rescue, carry him away! Go to the street to contact the main force, request emergency medical assistance, stop the bleeding first, quickly!"

The siege team that was charging forward along the street was just outside the alley. The main force of the party that was originally the subject of the filming had now become the last hope to save the American's life.

With the current injury, no matter what, emergency treatment must be carried out before sending him to the field hospital for rescue. Otherwise, he might die halfway before being sent to the field hospital. Requesting the siege team to provide necessary emergency medical treatment has become the only and necessary choice at the moment.

Kovanov commanded the soldiers to quickly put the seriously injured David on a door panel, and hurriedly lifted the door panel to get David, who had fallen into a coma, out.

On the other side, Sulovchenko, who had successfully captured and controlled the target, had not stopped yet.

Before everything was over, Sulovchenko had one last question to clarify.

"Did you do it alone?"

No extra nonsense, he got straight to the point. Sulovchenko, who spent all day on the front line dealing with prisoners, was not lacking in the ability to master German, but the boy who was firmly controlled under him gave an extremely arrogant answer.

"I can kill you Russian pigs by myself! Bah!"

""

Pointing a gun at someone's head and getting spit on his face, Sulovchenko had never been treated like this since he joined the army, even when he was the most stubborn and was targeted by the instructors in the military academy, he had never been humiliated like this.

However, Sulovchenko's next reaction was not anger but laughter, a very cold laugh.

"Shoot! Russian pig! Your sperm is not as big as the bullet I fired!"

The kid under him was still babbling non-stop, with no concept of life or death at all. Sulovchenko, who was too lazy to continue this situation, immediately took action without any hesitation.

But he did not pull the trigger.

Instead, he swung the handle of the Tokarev TT33 pistol in his hand and hit the Nazi kid's head sideways.

Sulovchenko, who was proficient in various prisoner-catching skills, certainly knew how to knock someone unconscious without being fatal, and the force was just right, neither too big nor too small.

The final result was that the kid wearing a large SS uniform was knocked unconscious on the spot by the punch and completely lost his movement.

"How to deal with him, comrade company commander."

Some soldiers were led by Kovanov to rescue people, while the remaining half of the squad stayed behind to wait for deployment. The squad leader came to Sulovchenko and asked questions.

"Take him away. We have never killed a little bastard before, and we will not kill him today. Let the big guys above decide whether he lives or dies. We are only responsible for catching people and will not get involved in this mess."

"Understood, take him away."

The squad leader who received the order waved his hand, and a strong soldier holding an AK immediately stepped forward, like a Siberian brown bear carrying a chick, and directly lifted the unconscious little Nazi up by the collar with one hand.

With just a move of lifting his hand to his shoulder, he carried this thing, which was no different from a sandbag, on his shoulder, holding the gun in one hand and holding it with the other hand, and then turned around and walked out.

"This thing looks a little different, comrade company commander, I've never seen anything like this before, take a look."

"Hmm?"

I thought it was time to finish the job and close the stall. Except for the little girl who looked like she was scared, everything seemed to have been handled.

But what a soldier brought to him immediately made Sulovchenko, who was about to leave work, stare.

The thing in front of him was nothing else, but the murder weapon that Sulovchenko had just knocked down from the Nazi kid's hand - a German 9mm submachine gun that he initially thought was from the MP38\40 series.

But now it seems that this thing in front of him is obviously not related to the MP38\40, and it can even be said that the style is completely different.

Sulovchenko took the gun and played with it curiously. It seems that whether it is the marks on the gun body or the workmanship and materials, this broken thing in his hand reveals an unprecedented shabby atmosphere.

Compared with the Germans' latest STG44, which is made of high-quality materials and is larger than their own AK, the two are simply a world apart, which made Sulovchenko curious.

"It looks like the British Sten. The craftsmanship and materials are quite shabby. I have seen photos of it in books before. But there are some differences. This thing is fed from the bottom, while the Sten's junky thing is inserted horizontally."

"Could it be a new thing made by the Germans imitating the British's broken gun? This thing looks like it should be very easy to produce, and it doesn't look like a handmade product."

The outstanding cultural level and comprehensive quality of the grassroots officers and soldiers of the leadership division make it possible for even ordinary soldiers to see some basic knowledge related to a new gun that they have never seen before. This is not a difficult task, and it is not only the captain comrade Sulovchenko who leads the way.

"Maybe, it does not look like a handmade product. There are traces of lathe turning on the receiver. This thing should have come off the production line."

After a brief study, I didn't find anything more valuable. When I pulled out the magazine, I found that this thing used an open-bolt design. There was no ready-to-fire bullet in the chamber, so there was no need to manually eject the bullet to ensure safety.

He put the magazine with some bullets left in his pocket, grabbed the "mysterious weapon" he had seized and threw it behind him.

He put the pistol back into the holster and picked up the AK hanging on his waist again, returning to the standard combat state.

Sulovchenko, who was about to leave, remembered that there was a little girl standing next to him and had to retract his legs and turn around again.

It was only after he got closer that he realized that the little girl in front of him looked about eight or nine years old.

She was wearing a coarse cloth dungaree with a tattered shirt, and her shoes were worn so hard that the lining of the interlayer could be seen. Her little face was covered with dust and had some bloodshot scars.

The war has left only dullness, helplessness and confusion in the eyes of this child, and even the last bit of fear is almost worn out by the persistent numbness.

Looking at the little girl in front of him, Sulovchenko, who had a sinister sneer on his face not long ago, now has a completely different expression, and asked in a tone like a good uncle passing by on the street to help a lost little girl find her mother.

"Little girl, what's your name? Where are your parents?"