Chapter 709: Endless Blood
After hearing the medic’s words, the German veteran did not hesitate. He immediately put aside his curious gaze, picked up his rifle, and found a suitable position to watch the surroundings. From time to time, German soldiers would jump into the trench, then run away, crouched low, as if there were no living people here at all, as if this were just an ordinary trench.
The medic took a syringe of painkiller from his medical bag. It was a small needle with a fixed dosage, containing a drug that could make one instantly forget their pain—usually morphine, but it could be something else. He skillfully bit off the protective cap of the needle with his mouth and then plunged it into the wounded soldier’s thigh.
“Hey! Buddy! Look at me! Come on, tell me which unlucky little mountain village you’re from. Don’t look over there! Look here! Yes! Look me in the eye! I’m asking you where you’re from, your hometown! Where’s your hometown?” The medic inserted the tip of his scissors into the new recruit’s uniform and began to cut open his tactical vest.
It had to be said that the design of the tactical vests of this era was definitely not yet mature enough to be easily removed. To save on metal parts, many straps had to be tied to secure it firmly. As for plastic products, those were still synonymous with luxury in the winter of 1938.
The wounded soldier had clearly not yet recovered from the shock. His eyes were unfocused, his will was scattered, and his ears were constantly ringing. He could not hear the medic’s chattering words at all. He tried to concentrate his mind, hoping to control his movements. He could feel that his wound was only slightly numb. He could feel something flowing out of his body.
“What… did you say? I can’t… hear you,” he finally managed to say. Perhaps the effect of the morphine was making him euphoric. His face, covered in blood, now had a good feeling about it, and there was even a hint of a playful smile on his lips.
But when the medic opposite him cut open his tactical vest, a gush of blood spurted out from where his magazine pouches were on his abdomen. It seemed a piece of shrapnel had hit him and caused a very serious penetrating wound. Because of the pressure from the tactical vest, the blood had actually been flowing out from his sleeve, which showed how huge the wound was.
Before the medic could do anything more, the young German soldier leaned against the wall of the trench, smiled, and closed his eyes. Then the hand that was gripping the medic’s went limp, leaving a red handprint on the medic’s uniform. His body then slumped to one side, and he lay in this damp corner.
The medic looked at the bloody handprint on his uniform, which was slightly distorted by the wrinkles in the fabric. He wiped his nose with his hand, sniffled, then packed his bag and stood up. With one hand on the pistol at his waist and the other hanging by his side, he walked over to the veteran, who was no longer on guard. “Got a smoke? I’d like one.”
“Of course!” The veteran took out a cigarette case from his breast pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and handed it to the medic. The medic took the cigarette, then took out a cigarette case of his own from his pocket and put the slightly crumpled and blood-stained cigarette inside. There were seven or eight cigarettes in it, and it was clear they were not new.
“I don’t smoke. I quit,” the medic explained, seeing the veteran’s strange look. “I use these to keep track of how many young men I’ve sent off in the last hour. See, it’s clear at a glance.”
As he spoke, the medic handed the cigarette case to the veteran. The seven cigarettes inside were plain to see. The veteran looked away, then slung the weapon in his hand over his back and walked towards the direction of the intense gunfire without saying a word. The medic put away his cigarette case and followed behind the veteran. Neither of them spoke again.
A thousand meters ahead, Rein’s tank was rolling over a Soviet soldier who was not yet dead. This soldier, with a bullet wound in his leg, was struggling in pain on the ground. The wide tracks of Baumann’s Tiger tank kicked up mud and water as it closed in on the poor man, inch by inch.
His legs were crushed into the mud first. The immense pain made him scream. Then the tracks, with the roar of the tank, rolled over his abdomen. At that moment, his screams stopped, because when he opened his mouth, he could only gush out mouthfuls of blood.
About 100 meters from Rein’s tank, a modified special Panther tank, covering the 502nd Panzer Battalion, was suppressing the Soviet troops with its special forward-mounted flamethrower. A huge jet of flame leaped dozens of meters across the battlefield, accurately dousing a machine gun bunker. The temperature inside instantly ignited flammable materials like clothing.
The blood-curdling screams of the Soviet Red Army soldiers came from inside. Then someone rushed out of the trench behind the bunker, flames still dancing on his body. But just a few seconds later, these men fell to the ground and stopped struggling, letting the fierce flames burn on their bodies.
The Soviet Red Army, having abandoned their defense line, began to flee in groups into the woods behind them. They were scared out of their wits by the huge Tiger tanks. And these Tiger tanks, under the cover of the infantry, were almost invincible. The methods they had trained to deal with German tanks before seemed so childish and ineffective in the face of this perfectly coordinated German unit.
The trenches were cleared one by one. The German army had no traditional virtues of respecting the old, loving the young, or caring for the sick and disabled. They threw hand grenades into the trenches from the side, then covered each other as they sprayed the inside, cutting down every living person they could see before jumping in to clear out booby traps and other problems. The casualty figures for the Soviet Red Army rose sharply, and the scope of their rout grew larger and larger.
Although no planes joined in the slaughter at this time, and no planes dived to drop bombs to expand the glorious combat record of the German ground forces, the Germans had still prepared the warmest of welcoming ceremonies for their opponents.
As more and more Soviets left their trenches and fled into the woods, on a German artillery position 7 kilometers away, an artillery officer with a cigarette dangling from his lips moved his round face away from the battery commander’s scope. He spat out the burned-out cigarette butt and waved his arm forward at his deputy. At the end of the motion, his fingers flicked forward with a flourish, his index and middle fingers naturally pointing ahead.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh-swoosh! The Friedrich rocket launchers, their launch rails already angled and raised, began to pour their rain of fire onto the predetermined area. Twenty rocket launchers unleashed over 400 rockets at the target area in one go. These projectiles were filled with coarse iron ball bearings for anti-personnel use and had a very good killing effect on exposed human bodies.
It was like an exquisite and well-coordinated orchestra. As soon as the trombones finished their notes, the cellos would join in, ultimately creating a magnificent piece of music. The German army was also a precision killing machine. They coordinated with each other, creating a continuous rhythm of “you finish, I’ll take the stage.”
These rockets all had instantaneous impact fuzes, so they exploded the moment they hit the ground. The hundreds of steel balls pre-set in the warhead shot out, riddling the people around them with holes, as if thousands of heavy machine guns had opened fire at the same time. The bodies of the Soviet Red Army soldiers were torn into pieces by the high-velocity small iron balls, their mangled flesh and blood scattered on the ground around them.
These pre-set fragments flew everywhere, embedding themselves in the thick tree trunks like bullets. The immense energy sent bark flying for a long distance. Some fragments, like sharp knives, instantly severed tree branches, leaving only a splintered stump that swayed violently back and forth.
The German rockets did not fall like artillery shells, with little interval between them. The explosions all happened at about the same time, so not many people who had hit the dirt managed to avoid them. For a time, the fleeing Soviet Red Army, crowded together, suffered heavy casualties. The air was filled with wails and screams. Any faith became worthless in the face of this terrible slaughter. Any courage became a pitiful joke in that instant.
“Help! I’m hit!” a Soviet soldier shouted, clutching his arm. But the fact that he still had the strength to shout meant he was one of the few lucky ones. Most of the others were lying on the ground, lifeless, letting their blood flow onto the snow, staining the surroundings a deep red.
More Soviet soldiers raised their hands and walked towards the positions they had just given up to the Germans. They had even dropped their weapons on the ground. No matter how much the political commissars pleaded, they paid no heed. These men had been broken by the wave-like attacks of the Germans. They were afraid to fight these opponents again, afraid to face this bloody experience they had just been through.
The blood in the snow grew more and more, as if it would never end. This blood melted the white snow and seeped into the mud, as if it could not leave this land. Before these bloodstains had completely dried, the tracks of the German tanks had already rolled over them, followed by the iconic leather-soled boots of the German army. Row after row of German soldiers, dressed in white camouflage, with their guns and ammunition on their backs, continued to march towards their distant objective.
Alice opened the hatch above her head and exposed her head to look at the bodies on the side of the road, which were twisted into grotesque shapes. There was no expression on her face. Compared to when she had just arrived at the front, when the sight of a corpse would make her vomit, she had now “progressed” to the point where she could look at a mangled body and eat a can of stewed fish with tomatoes.
Published: 2025-09-20T03:12:07.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-03-04T18:28:24.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c709-endless-139308032
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