Chapter 493: No Misunderstanding
By the time Kruk found his leader, the situation was already dire. There were gunshots from all directions; it was clear the German force was much larger than they had estimated. And this German unit was different from the ones they had faced before. Their marksmanship was more accurate, their firepower was fiercer, and their tactical coordination was more skilled.
“Retreat! These aren’t your average German devils!” the leader’s shoulder had been shot by a German sniper from the shadows. A simple bandage was not enough to stop the bleeding. Kruk asked the deputy leader about the situation and learned that they were in big trouble.
One side of the village was sealed off by a German machine gun, which was being covered by a sniper. The leader had just been shot in the shoulder while leading a charge to break through from that direction. The other side of the village was already on fire. There had been no word from the dozen or so partisans over there; they had clearly already been killed by the Germans who had infiltrated the village.
This was a planned attack, and it had been arranged with great care. Kruk peeked his head out, observing the German situation from around a corner. He saw that these German soldiers were all wearing mottled camouflage smocks, their helmets covered with branches and weeds. They moved very quickly, had already taken out several of the partisan sentry posts on the outskirts of the village, and were beginning to attack the village itself.
“These Germans are not easy to deal with!” Kruk pulled his head back and suggested to his groaning leader, “Don’t try to rally the troops. It’s every man for himself now!”
He reached out, ignoring the leader’s painful moans, and hoisted him onto his back. He then handed his rifle to the deputy leader and started to run towards a relatively quiet area. Twenty-odd partisans followed behind him, afraid of being a step too slow.
The battle ended quickly. The sound of gunfire gradually subsided. A German captain’s leather boots stepped on the body of a dead partisan as he looked at the dozen or so captured partisans kneeling on the ground with their hands up.
“Kill them,” the captain said, a look of interest on his face as he listened to the prisoners’ continuous pleas for mercy, but there was not a trace of pity in his eyes. He had come here to kill. He had come here to destroy. As one of Germany’s most elite special forces units, with the codename “Mountain Demon” personally given by the Führer, he, the captain, felt that being sent to deal with these Polish partisans was a bit of an underutilization of his talents.
At his command, a dense volley of gunshots rang out, and the world seemed to fall silent. The captain looked at the surrounding woods, then walked, with his hands behind his back, into the silent little mountain village. Walking down the street here, looking at the subservient local Poles who came out, the faces of these elite German soldiers were full of contempt.
Suddenly, the German captain stopped in his tracks. He bent down, picked up a photograph from the ground, then curled his lips into a smile and chuckled softly. He then handed the photograph to his deputy. “Find this girl, and then ask her where the partisan named Kruk is.”
“Understood,” the deputy nodded, then walked off with several soldiers, their rifles at the ready. A moment later, the girl in the photograph and her family were all brought before the German captain.
“Sir! We don’t know who this Kruk is, we really don’t,” the girl’s father pleaded loudly, being held down by a German soldier. “I beg you, please let us go! We really don’t know!”
The German captain nodded, handed the photograph to the pale-faced girl, and asked elegantly, “I know you don’t want to lie, and I also know you must know this man named Kruk… If you don’t want your family to be sent to a concentration camp, you had better tell me everything you know.”
“This person grew up in the village. After the village was occupied by the Germans, he came back once, and then he left with the partisans. Today was the first time they came here. That’s all I know,” the woman replied, staring at the handsome German captain.
“It seems you were not telling the truth,” the captain said, looking at the girl’s parents with a sneer. “Your daughter says she knows him, but you lied to me and said you didn’t. This is proof that you want to support the partisans in their resistance against the rule of the Reich.”
“I told you everything I know! My parents really don’t know anything! What more do you want?” the girl struggled against the two German soldiers holding her but could not break free. She roared like a wild beast, her eyes red as she stared at the elegant German officer.
The captain looked at the girl, his expression still calm. “You cooperated with the Reich, so you get to live. Your parents did not cooperate, so they must be executed. It’s as simple as that. Why did they say they didn’t know him in the first place?”
“You bastard! You will all die a horrible death!” the girl cursed shrilly.
“In this war, no one can live forever. We are just choosing, choosing a gorgeous way to die,” the German captain seemed to be reveling in his own words. After taking a deep breath, he looked at the furious Polish girl and continued, “When I graduated from university, I wanted to be a poet. But the Führer wanted me to be a killer. You see, life is full of disappointments. That’s what makes it more exciting.”
Crack! The cries of the girl’s mother, the middle-aged woman, were cut short by a gunshot. The beautiful Polish girl began to tremble in despair, as if all her strength had been drained away. She fell silent.
“Please! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” the girl’s father was still pleading, but his pleas were also cut short by another gunshot.
The German captain walked up to the Polish girl, tilted his head slightly, and examined the numb girl carefully. He then shook his head with regret. “Don’t let her go to waste. You have some time before Group 2 gets back…”
A group of burly German special forces soldiers grinned wickedly, pulled the girl who had collapsed to the ground, and dragged her into a nearby room. A moment later, the girl’s hysterical cries and the German soldiers’ unbridled, wild laughter could be heard from inside.
“In this sinful war, no one lives forever. We hum a song, hold our bayonets, and kill all who do not submit. We are fierce, we are brutal, we are the Führer’s pride. We are shameless, we are proud, we are executioners and liches. When peace comes, we will die in the last second of the war. How great is that…” the German captain hummed softly, his hands still behind his back as he walked, step by step, towards the village entrance. Behind him, one after another, the houses were set on fire. Cries and gunshots rang out again. Another village was about to be wiped off the map.
Kruk and the other partisans who had escaped with their leader had, of course, been deliberately allowed to go. Following them were 20 purebred German Shepherds and 40 German mountain special forces troops responsible for the pursuit and cleanup.
These men followed closely behind the panicked partisans. They were more familiar with the mountain forest terrain than their opponents, more adapted to everything in the jungle than these Poles who had grown up here. They could roughly grasp the opponent’s size and speed from a broken branch. They were skilled at distinguishing footprints and were experts in pursuit and search.
Soon, these German special forces had found Kruk’s hidden camp. Soon, they began their attack from all sides. Soon, they had Kruk and his wounded leader under escort, back to the now-burning village of Tar.
There, Kruk saw his lover, naked and long dead. He saw her body being thrown into a burning house, to be burned to ashes like the other corpses. He watched in silence as everything happened before his eyes, watched his mortal enemy play with his old camera.
“This is a nice thing. I can give it to my superior. He likes to collect these little trinkets, especially when they have bloodstains on them. He likes those even more,” the German captain said, fiddling with the camera for a while before casually placing it on a table and walking over to Kruk.
“You are Kruk. Even if you don’t speak, I know you are the owner of this photograph,” the German captain said, waving the photo in front of Kruk’s eyes with a playful tone, kicking him while he was down. “You carelessly dropped your photo, and so I knew you had a woman in this village… To see the unwilling look in your eyes, I deliberately gave the order for the massacre. I like to be hated, because it means I have truly hurt the enemy’s heart!”
As he spoke, he looked up, completely ignoring Kruk’s fiery gaze, and continued, “Perhaps you think I am cruel, that I am an executioner… But you have also killed your fair share of people. When you opened fire on the German new recruits in the transport convoy, did you ever think that they were also some family’s child? Did you ever think that among them was also some child’s father?”
As he spoke, he took out a piece of white paper from his breast pocket and threw it to Kruk, who was being held down on the ground by the German soldiers. The paper fluttered down in front of Kruk. It was a crayon drawing of a crooked German soldier and an ugly little boy.
“A letter from a 4-year-old boy to the Führer. His father died in a ditch by the side of Highway 47. You fired the shots, you burned the winter clothes and the auto parts… The 4-year-old boy cried and asked the Führer for his father back. The Führer was very sad, so he sent me to handle this matter. Now do you know why my methods are so vicious?” the German captain said coldly. “Don’t think of yourself as a victim. We occupied your country, you attacked us, and we came back with a more vicious revenge. A very simple logic, isn’t it?”
“You are the invaders!” Kruk raised his head, his face streaked with tears, and roared at the German captain. “You are devils! You will never occupy this land that belongs to the Polish people! Never!”
“Even if we fail, I’ll be long dead by then. That’s not something I need to worry about,” the German captain said with a wave of his hand. “Let’s end the idle chat here. Hang him. Hang his body at the village entrance!”
Published: 2025-08-30T04:13:51.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-11-29T16:57:04.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c493-no-137683373
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