Chapter 247: You too

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Borol shook his head, put his hand on the helmet held on his head, slapped his chest with white dust, and spit the saliva in his mouth aside.
"Hey! Hello?" He shouted loudly, confirming that his ears were indeed no problem, and then carefully bent to stand by the window, exposing half of his head to look outside, and quickly turned his head. Received back.
"Baru! The French have retreated?" He shouted loudly upstairs, and no one seemed to answer.
"Baru!" He had a bad hunch, and the bearded man who gritted his teeth against the artillery suddenly appeared in his mind, which made him very uncomfortable.
So he shouted in a more anxious and urgent tone: "Baru! I'm calling you! Bastard!"
"I heard it! This is the third time I answered you! Borol!" Baru's voice finally came from his ears. It seems that his ears still have a little problem, but now it seems that it is not big. Hindered.
"The French are gone?" Borol asked with a laugh.
Although I do n’t know why my platoon leader ’s boss laughed, Baru, who carried the machine gun down the stairs, replied: "Withdrawn, I saw them walking a long way before they came down. I do n’t know why, they should have been able to easily Beat us. "
"To call everyone together, I have to check the casualties. There is no way to stay here, make arrangements, and be ready to retreat at any time." Borol said to Baru, and then wanted to turn around and leave.
Baru suddenly stopped him: "Hey! Head! Are you okay?"
Borol froze, then stared at Baru: "It's fine, I'm fine, of course. What do you mean by asking?"
"I wanted to ask if it would hurt to have a fork in my shoulder." Baru pointed to Borol's back and asked.
It seemed that nervousness and killing really made people forget the pain for a while. Borol found a fork stuck on his shoulder. It seemed to be the debris of the grenade that had just crashed. He pulled the fork out and dropped it on the ground: "It's not enough to help, there is a tourniquet in the pocket on my waist behind me."
After bandaging the wound, Borol walked out of the house with a gun. Baru went to find other survivors, and he walked slowly on the road to the small village with a gun. At a street corner, he saw a man lying on the ground, his big eyes staring at the sky, but there were a few bullet holes in his chest and neck, and the blood stains had dried up.
Walking carefully, he closed the soldier's eyes with his hands, and then ripped off the identity card on the body, and put it seriously in his jacket pocket. He raised his head and looked at the warehouse next to the village entrance. It was once an anti-tank artillery position. It was still a dozen minutes ago, but now there is a light smoke curling around, there is no sound.
He crossed the fence that was broken by a machine gun and walked slowly to the place where the heroic comrades had fought. He felt that his face was itchy, and there seemed to be a small bug crawling down the cheekbones. But he didn't pay attention to it, but walked straight to the front of the bearded man, even though the person leaning there was only a corpse now, he could no longer open his eyes or speak.
Four German paratroopers were killed here-or airborne infantry. Although these people have not received training in skydiving, they can be added to the paratroopers through the transport plane as soon as possible. They can be said to be the most favorable support for paratroopers, but also the most elite infantry in Germany. These people did not embroider the alpine velvet grass which represents the honor of paratroopers, but there is a button on it to distinguish it from ordinary infantry.
Walking to the bearded man, Borol sat slowly, watching the man who was sent to support him, and now he was still alive, but the person who came to support was killed here. Borol lit a cigarette, and then wondered why another cigarette was drawn and placed on a seat of the artillery.
"I invite you to smoke a cigarette and hope you will walk along the way." Borol said softly, then he extended his hand and wiped his face.
Behind him, the German sniper came over: "Sir! The men are all assembled, waiting for you to pass."
Borol nodded, stood up, ripped down the identity cards of the fallen soldiers and put them back in his pockets, then walked back, and when he passed the sniper, he pointed to the door behind him. A 75mm caliber cannon said, "It's a good gun."
"You are right! Very powerful cannon." The sniper nodded, glanced at the burning tank debris at the entrance of the village, and nodded again: "A good cannon!"
It seemed that something had been dropped, and Borol's footsteps became much lighter. When he saw his men, he was irritated somehow. He did not find his former deputy squad leader in the familiar crowd, and ... several people he knew.
It was not sorrow, nor emotion. Borol did not know how to describe his inner feelings. I just felt very tired and felt that my breathing was out of pace. He stepped into the crowd step by step, put the gun in his hand on the table, picked up a dozen identity cards already there, and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Can anyone drive? When I retreat later, I want to use that thing faster." Borol asked, and several people raised their hands. He nodded and continued, "Organize ammunition and destroy everything that cannot be taken away."
"Baru, you take people in shifts 1 and 2 to pack things up. Three shifts are equipped with security whistle around. If you find anything, notify everyone immediately." He pointed out the window: "Arrange people in all directions The French don't know why they gave up the offense, so be careful. "
Just as Borol had packed things and piled up their cars to retreat, a summoned motorcycle from Valhavin Airport drove into the village. The German herald was wearing a raincoat, wearing leather gloves, and hung a patterned nameplate similar to a goggle on his neck.
"Who is your commander here?" The rider didn't get off the motorcycle, didn't even turn off the engine, and at a glance knew he was in a hurry to rush to the next place to convey the message.
Borol stepped forward and answered, "I am their commander. Is there any order over there from the headquarters?"
"This time is not an order." The messenger shook his head: "The head of state blessed us, the French team retreated. They are retreating southwest."
Retreated? How could it be so retreat? Borol froze, and quickly asked: "Why?"
"I heard that the head of state heard of the plight here, and transferred more than 40 Stuttgart bombers and 20 fw-190 fighters. They took off and attacked this French army in turn. These air forces disrupted the French offensive. On the one hand, the 11th Armored Division of the B Group Army was only a few hours away from here, so the French had to retreat. "The messenger paid a German salute:" Congratulations, Commander! We have won. "
Won? can not imagine. Borol sat down on the steps, looking at the same dumbfounded comrades, and suddenly smirked. The retreat looked far away, and it seemed that they did not have to escape to Williams Bridge, everything had a very unreal feeling.
However, this unreal feeling soon disappeared. The Leopard tank of the 11th Armored Division of the German Army brought confidence to the German paratroopers at this moment. Borol, who watched one tank after another drive by, and had just scrambled to dig out the mines he had buried, had an unprecedented sense of security.
At this moment they did believe that their battle seemed to be over. At least ... at least it's over.
Then, a whole company of German infantry rushed over, and they were ordered to take over the position here, and informed the paratroopers that they could rush back to Valhavin on foot.
Borol was also not stingy, and gave him some supplies of wine, as well as the mines he dug out, and gave them to the infantry. The car was also reserved for the German infantry passing by. He took his paratroopers to carry his own. Weapons returned to Valhavin lightly.
They were in a very good mood on the road, because they bumped into the camp personnel who also returned there, and they also encountered a rushing artillery unit on the road. Dozens of trucks dragged a 150 mm caliber heavy artillery and passed by. They have already won the battle.
These paratroopers held cigarettes and were full of confidence. Although the whole body was covered with dust and some blood was on their faces, they were today's winners and heroes of the entire Western Front.
Unconsciously, Borol heard another song that made him bloody, and although the song was far away, it was very clear:
"We are fighting for Germany,
For freedom and honor,
We will make the enemy unable to rest!
The cruel hand of Grim Reaper,
Usually like the best soldiers,
But we won and the wall is still standing,
Enemies like floods are defeated by us!
This makes us paratroopers,
Become a German hero!
March with us, comrade-in-arms!
In the same medal of honor,
No matter where we are, let us move on!
The devil laughed like this: Hahahahaha.
We fight for Germany,
For freedom and honor!
We will make the enemy unable to rest! "
Really a good song! Borol thought of walking along the road with his mp-44 on his back. Behind him is Baru carrying a g42 machine gun, followed by medical soldiers who have run out of medicine, followed by one gray-faced German paratrooper, they hum their war song and move to dry The peeling lips reveal white teeth.
Yeah, we are German paratroopers, we are gods of war descending from the sky! We are not afraid of death and offer victory to the heads of state! Borol put his hands in his pockets and touched the identity cards—you too.