Chapter 551: Movement

An unknown beetle crawled across a verdant green leaf. It played and frolicked on the leaf, stretching its antennae without a care in the world, surveying this world that was still not too familiar to it.

It crawled across the leaf, then jumped onto an iron pipe. It continued to crawl along this pipe, which was wrapped in cloth strips. It did not know that it was standing on a rifle, and it certainly did not know that at this moment, a German soldier was holding this rifle.

The steel helmet of this German soldier had been modified. It was covered with canvas and a camouflage net, on which he could place any camouflage material he could find locally. And the entire helmet was non-reflective and was painted in a camouflage pattern that was most appropriate for this season. The motionless German soldier had already blended into the entire meadow, the entire thicket, like a stone, as if it had no life at all.

A grim face was observing the most dangerous area opposite him through a scope. A few days ago, three German soldiers had been shot and killed here by the Red Army. Based on his judgment, these three soldiers had all been killed by a sniper. From the wounds and the open terrain, it was unlikely that they had been ambushed by a regular unit.

The all-too-familiar one-shot kill, the all-too-familiar upper body wound, the all-too-familiar two falling together and the third dying in the distance. If he were to carry out this attack, it would be exactly the same as what had happened here.

He could even guess the firing sequence of the enemy sniper: first, he had taken out the soldier carrying the Mauser rifle, clearly the only one of the three German soldiers who could pose a threat to him. Then, he had shot the most valuable target, the squad leader carrying the MP-44 assault rifle. Finally, he had shot the one fleeing soldier in the distance.

This was an expert! He immediately made his judgment. So he lay in ambush here, preparing to, according to his superior’s orders, kill the main culprit who had brought casualties to the German army. He knew that this mission was different from the previous ones; this was his first time facing the challenge of a sniper.

His assistant, the comrade responsible for covering him, was behind a patch of grass not far away. This assistant was responsible for luring the opponent to fire first and expose his position, to create a favorable combat environment for him. He cautiously propped up a steel helmet with his bayonet and then slightly shook the grass.

If the enemy sniper was still here, then he could use this method to lure the opponent into firing. This was a very dangerous job; after all, he had to be hit first before he could confirm the opponent’s position. Of course, the danger was not that great. The opponent would either hit the helmet or the bayonet supporting the helmet. The probability of hitting him was very low.

In fact, there was still danger. For example, the last time the Soviets had used a helmet to lure a German sniper into firing, to try to determine the sniper’s position in advance, the Germans had not been polite at all. They had directly picked up a Panzerfaust and had fired a rocket. Of course, the nearby Red Army soldiers had suffered considerable casualties, and the Soviet soldier who had been taunting the Germans with the helmet had also been killed on the spot. This was a lesson for everyone who often played this game: do not easily expose your position, because you never know what will be flying your way.

Crack! The sniper opposite him opened fire. This had been a long wait indeed. The German sniper, through his own scope, clearly saw the position where the muzzle flash had appeared. He raised the corner of his mouth and centered the crosshairs on that position. Sure enough, there was a Soviet sniper there, camouflaged as a haystack, almost identical to the surrounding grass.

“Goodbye,” the German sniper muttered softly, then squeezed his own trigger. He did not hesitate in the slightest, because he did this countless times every day, and almost every time, he took a living life. This was the battlefield, the place where the law of survival was the cruelest. The only way to survive here was to kill. The only thing not needed here was a heart of mercy.

Crack! A bullet spewed from the well-camouflaged muzzle, flew towards the distant Red Army sniper, tore through the air, crossed a distance of over two hundred meters, and then easily drilled into the Soviet sniper’s body, carrying with it a huge rotational kinetic energy, shattering bones and tearing internal organs.

Not far from this sniper, a Soviet soldier stood up and tried to run away. He was also shot in the back and, after running only a few steps, he pitched forward and fell dead beside a thicket.

A single life on the front line of the war was so worthless. Whether it was a soldier who fought tenaciously or a coward as timid as a mouse, they all had a chance to eke out a wretched existence, and they would all die a humble death when their luck ran out. Their bodies, their joints twisted, would fall to the ground, not worth a penny, completely without dignity.

The assistant, who had been holding the helmet on his bayonet, put it on his head, smiled, slung his rifle over his back, and walked towards the body of the Soviet sniper in the distance. He was responsible for picking up the Soviet sniper rifle to prove that his sniper team had indeed killed a Soviet sniper in the vicinity.

Soon, he reached the side of the body. The Soviet sniper looked very young, probably not yet twenty. His youthful face was contorted, and it was clear that the physical trauma had brought him great pain about a minute ago. The ground around him was covered in blood, proving that he had not died instantly.

The bullet had pierced his lung from under his ribs, then had exited from the other side, taking with it fragments of his stomach and part of his intestines, leaving a hole the size of a fist, a very frightening sight.

The German soldier took a blood-soaked identification document from the body’s breast pocket, as well as a handwritten notebook. It was in Russian, which he could not read, but he did not discard it. The bloodstains on it had not yet dried, so he did not put these things in his own pocket but held them in his hand and walked towards the body of the other Soviet soldier in the distance.

He walked over, kicked the body with his foot, then placed the things in his hand to the side and turned the body over. As he was searching the body, the German sniper also walked over. He had been providing cover for a long time, and only when he was sure there was no one else around did he put away his weapon and approach.

He lit a cigarette by the body, watching his assistant search the Soviet soldier’s corpse. He just stood there, puffing away indifferently. When his assistant nodded, they slung the four rifles over their backs and left. The two of them retreated to their previous ambush position, then walked back through a small patch of woods and arrived at the defensive line controlled by the German grenadiers. They were eating there, but they did not dare to light a fire to heat their cold food.

A sentry, seeing his own people return, came up and asked a few questions, then checked their documents and let them pass. The two of them did not belong to this unit, so they did not stand on ceremony. They just followed the direction the other had pointed and slowly walked towards the battalion headquarters.

The battalion headquarters was not far behind the company’s position. Here, they had quite a few acquaintances. A second lieutenant from the battalion’s artillery warmly greeted the two and even shared some of his hot water with them. A cup of hot water down their throats finally made their cold stomachs feel a little better.

Seeing the battalion commander, the two placed the Soviet sniper rifle and another ordinary Mosin-Nagant rifle on his desk. Then they began to report the problems they had discovered in the recent engagement. The battalion commander looked at the two rifles and found that they were very well-maintained, much better than the weapons of other Soviet units.

“They are imitating us. A month ago, their snipers were still operating alone. Now they have an extra person. If that Soviet hadn’t been a coward and had run away early, he would have opened fire and attacked when we went to check the body,” the sniper said, pointing to the ordinary rifle.

It was clear that the assistant of the sniper team, who had just walked on the edge of the gates of hell, also had lingering fears. He spread the captured items out on the table, completely ignoring the still-sticky bloodstains on them. “I can’t read Russian, but I brought back this notebook from his body. I hope it’s useful.”

The battalion commander knew some Russian; this was part of the preparations before the invasion. He took the small notebook, which was more than half stained with blood, and looked at it carefully. He found that there were many professional terms inside. The only things he could understand were the words “sniper,” “training,” “road,” “house,” and a few others.

However, he still deduced that this should be a sniper training manual, with some basic theoretical knowledge for training Soviet snipers. This was not a matter for a small battalion commander to handle. Intelligence showed that the Soviets were training a large number of snipers to cause trouble for the German army, and the German high command was gradually paying attention to this new situation.

War is like a big classroom. Everyone is learning from the more advanced, to make up for their own shortcomings. The speed of learning is simply staggering. In real history, from the time the German Navy first mounted radar on a warship to the time every warship in the U.S. Navy was equipped with radar, it seems to have only taken six years. And a few months after the German Air Force used the Me-109, the British Spitfire was born. Who would have thought that it would only take five short years for humanity to evolve from piston-propeller aircraft to jet aircraft?

So do not doubt the pace at which your opponent is catching up. Those who think they are ahead of their opponents have all died as negative examples in the long river of history. The firearms of the Ming Dynasty were the best in the world, but in the end, we were虐待d to death by others with firearms. The Beiyang Fleet of the Qing court once ruled Asia, but after stopping its progress for only two years, it was caught up to and defeated by the Japanese Navy. The German Me-109 once dominated Europe, but the British just had to stuff a Rolls-Royce engine into a Spitfire to win the Battle of Britain!

The facts have proven that only a nation that is constantly striving and pioneering is worthy of an unshakable foundation for ten thousand generations, and is also worthy of holding the fruits of victory!

Published: 2025-09-05T01:11:04.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2025-12-25T13:51:57.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c551-138142387

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