Chapter 4: Morning

The soil before him remained damp, muddy, and embedded with ice crystals, and Lynn understood that he was still entrenched in the trenches, where the nightmare had evidently become an unchangeable reality. After hesitating for a moment, he made an effort to lift his body with his stiff and numb hands. Although he was wrapped in a relatively thick blanket, it could hardly withstand the cold of the night. However, compared to those who had frozen to death in the heart of the Soviet Union, Lynn was quite fortunate—despite a light snowfall over the past two days, the lowest temperature had only dropped to around minus fifteen degrees Celsius, and with his winter clothing and military blanket, he was barely able to endure.

During this process, Huang Mao silently watched Lin En fiddle with the new "toy," his curious gaze reminiscent of that of the previously slender young man. Unlike its immense popularity in the East, particularly in China, this Mauser military pistol was met with indifference in Europe. The military had many reasons for disliking it: it was expensive, large in size, and difficult to control the muzzle rise during rapid fire, which is why even the German army did not equip it in bulk. However, by the later stages of the war, the dire situation of resource depletion forced the German army to dig out old stock from their warehouses. It is said that not only the frontline Wehrmacht units but even the usually well-treated SS had to accept some weapons they typically looked down upon as a supplement, resulting in a strange situation where new and old weapons were present together.

Regarding the Mauser rifle in his hands, Lynn could not say it was good, but at least it could be used smoothly. After a moment, the box was finally lifted in front of him. Lynn looked inside and saw that although there were several MP38/40 submachine guns, they all appeared to be damaged and in need of repair. The rest were either "Mauser" or "Mosin-Nagant." The blond-haired man seemed to be looking for a suitable weapon for himself, and after rummaging through, he quickly found a Mauser military pistol in the corner of the box, along with a Tokarev, which was essentially a pistol. Upon seeing this, Lynn's eyes lit up: this was a favorite among warlords and bandits during the Republic of China period, and the original German-made version was particularly sought after. However, the blond man disdainfully set it aside, and the other soldiers standing nearby were surprisingly indifferent to this small killing device.

The butcher was likely praising his performance from the previous night, yet Lynn could not feel any joy. The defense held firm, but it was at the cost of the blood and lives of the German soldiers. Just to repel the Soviet heavy tank assault, Lynn witnessed no fewer than fifty German infantrymen bravely sacrifice themselves. Prior to this, he had always believed that soldiers from European countries would choose to surrender when casualties exceeded a certain ratio, and that they would not feel ashamed of it. The brutal battle unfolding before him finally revealed to him the fierce spirit of the German officers and soldiers.

In fact, whether they are Danes or Norwegians, there is no difference in this trench, nor will it change their situation. Lynn thought this as he tightened the cap on the water bottle and returned it to the blonde, forcing a smile.

The slender young man lifting the box in front glanced at Lynn with some surprise, simultaneously slowing his pace—Lynn thought this was a deliberate gesture to help him find the holster for the carbine, so he quickly forced a smile and reached in to rummage. The wooden box, originally intended for rifles, was not very large; a few pulls would allow one to count its contents clearly, yet the distinctly shaped carbine holster did not appear. At this moment, the surrounding soldiers looked over with curiosity as if they had seen a celestial being. The wooden box, originally intended for rifles, was not very large; a few pulls would allow one to count its contents clearly, yet the distinctly shaped carbine holster did not appear. At this moment, the surrounding soldiers looked over with curiosity as if they had seen a celestial being. Lynn paid no attention to this and continued to search diligently until he saw the slender young man shaking his head, at which point he reluctantly withdrew his hand.

A black-and-white family photo was tucked inside the book. Judging by the smooth and pristine texture of the photo, it must have been taken not long ago. The style of the photo is quite traditional, with the parents seated in the center and their four children arranged in order of height in the back row. The tallest among them is likely the "self" in the mirror, dressed in a crisp SS uniform, exuding vitality. The three younger ones consist of one boy and two girls; the boy, around sixteen or seventeen years old, is also in uniform but has a youthful face. The older girl appears to be about ten years old, with beautiful curly hair, clearly a budding beauty. The youngest girl is only five or six years old, looking shy and somewhat fearful.

On the first day of finding himself on the battlefield, Lynn recognized from the badges of those around him that this unit was the 11th "Nordic" Volunteer Armored Grenadier Division of the German SS, an elite combat force composed of Germans from various Nordic countries, including Norwegian, Danish, and a few Swedish and Finnish soldiers. Among the armored divisions of the SS, the "Nordic" Division was established relatively late, but after its formation, it fought for a long time on the most arduous front lines, enduring a series of extremely brutal battles, and gained a considerable reputation.

As he approached, the "Butcher" stopped in his tracks, looking down at Lynn and mumbling something incomprehensible. Lynn could not understand a single word and could only raise his head, gazing blankly at the other person. Fortunately, in this battlefield, there were all kinds of situations, including temporary deafness, mental confusion, or even battlefield-induced autism. Seeing that Lynn neither stood up nor responded, the "Butcher" was not angry; he simply patted Lynn's shoulder and then walked away with a serious expression.

So you are a volunteer soldier from Denmark

Hearing some commotion in the trench to the west, Lynn quickly put away his scattered thoughts along with the notebook whose contents he could not yet comprehend. Soon, he saw the slender young man from last night and another young man in military uniform carrying a long wooden box along the trench towards this side. The soldiers along the way voluntarily placed their excess weapons into it. Most of these were left behind by injured and fallen comrades, and some were taken from the attacking Soviet soldiers. Of course, many still kept their "Poposha". Everything seemed to be based on the principle of voluntariness, with no one imposing interference or giving unsolicited advice.

According to the normal age for marriage and childbirth, their parents should not be old; however, the couple in the photograph appears to have weathered many storms. The man looks like a man in his sixties, while the woman has gray hair at the temples. The four children seem relatively healthy, but the expressions of the couple are heavy and forlorn. This inevitably reminds Lynn of the broader context of the times; the fate of the empire is sinking like the setting sun, and those with insight should indeed feel sorrow for the fate of their nation, as well as for their own.

The slender young man and his companion continued to carry the box forward. Their frail bodies were not suited for such physical labor, yet the battlefield often lacked compassion. Returning to his position, Lynn sat down heavily and looked at the Mauser pistol in his hand, feeling a surge of warmth in his heart. He tried to fiddle with it; the bolt, magazine, and hammer all moved smoothly, and the sides of the grip were engraved with a red "9". This indicated that it was originally produced in a 7.63 mm caliber, but later modified by the factory to a 9 mm caliber to accommodate standard ammunition like that of the Luger 08. From this, it can be inferred that it belongs to an older model produced before the 1920s and does not possess fully automatic firing capabilities

Weapons are the primary lifeline of soldiers, but sometimes the role of a water bottle is even more important. Thinking of this, Lynn searched around again and finally found a water bottle half-buried in the ground beneath him. He shook it and surprisingly discovered that there was still half a bottle of water, so he reattached it to his belt. As he retracted his hand, he accidentally touched a hard object in the pocket of his jacket and pulled it out. It was a thick notebook slightly larger than a palm, with a cover, likely a diary. The handwriting inside was relatively vigorous, and Lynn recognized most of the individual letters—judging by the 'extra' dots on some letters, he speculated that it was either German or Danish.

Licking his lips, Lin En took out half a biscuit from his pocket, which he had deliberately saved from last night's dinner—bullets, food, and water. Unknowingly, he had transformed into a squirrel, instinctively hoarding everything to ensure his survival as much as possible in a harsh environment

Leaning against the trench wall, Lynn surveyed his surroundings. Many soldiers were still curled up in the trench, wrapped in blankets and clothing. Not far away, several soldiers with large ears and steel helmets were gathered around a small pile of charcoal fire, where a metal lunchbox was suspended from a tripod made of wooden sticks, and a faint aroma wafted from within. As his consciousness became clearer, the emptiness and hunger in his stomach also grew increasingly uncomfortable.

To be able to fall asleep in such harsh conditions is something that one would not have even dared to imagine in the past

Lin En shivered, took a step forward, and grabbed the nearly new shotgun from the box. The heavy feel in his hand instantly made him feel as if he had found a treasure

The battlefield, filled with fire and blood, had replayed countless times in dreams. Lynn made every effort to clear his mind and continued to search for his water bottle, but that cold, hard metal object seemed to be lost. At that moment, a hand clad in a woolen glove offered a military water bottle that had been nearly worn down by paint. Lynn turned his head and saw a lean young man nestled to his left, appearing to be just in his early twenties. Beneath his steel helmet, tufts of dirty blonde hair were visible, and he always had a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth, which he only carefully tucked behind his ear when he went to sleep.

The operation of the submachine gun is not particularly complicated. Once the gun is warmed up, Lynn can basically use it. He even mimics the bandits from the movies, holding it in a steady manner and fiddling with it a bit. It has a safety but no locking button, and the magazine has a capacity of 6 rounds; this thing is indeed quite old. Better to have it than not, Lynn keeps the gun tucked into his waistband, thinking about finding an opportunity to get some matching ammunition, yet he fails to notice the sympathy reflected in the blonde's eyes. If they were engaged in a static battle, it would be fine, but during long-distance marches, soldiers always wish to minimize their load as much as possible. However, casually discarding firearms is something many officers cannot tolerate. Too heavy? Ask the 'Butcher' about his boots first.

With a mix of anticipation and reluctance, I stuffed the biscuit into my mouth, chewing a few bites; it was dry and hard. Just as I was fumbling to find the water bottle, I saw the "butcher" approaching with his submachine gun. Although there was a habitual tension in my heart, Lynn knew that this guy only became exceptionally agitated during or just before a fight; otherwise, he would at most wear a stern expression.

Lynn took the kettle, unsure of how to express her gratitude, and simply remained silent. While drinking water, the blonde boy spoke softly, and ended up chuckling a few times. This time, Lynn roughly understood a single word placed at the front: "Danish," referring to a Dane

Daylight broke, and Lin En opened his weary eyes. The morning light was so gentle, and the fragrance of the earth overshadowed the remnants of gunpowder. The sounds of gunfire and battle seemed to belong to another world; it was so quiet that even the chirping of birds could not be heard

The blonde did not say anything further, wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and closed his eyes to rest.