Chapter 940: A Classic Fantasy Duo

“They only sent the two of you?” After checking their papers, the acting company commander, a German platoon leader, looked at the two soldiers who looked like they’d just escaped a famine. One was in a ragged uniform, a battered-looking Mauser 98K bolt-action rifle slung over his back. His partner looked like a clueless gofer, the very picture of a classic Western fantasy duo.

The rifle had a small, low-magnification optical scope, clearly a mass-produced item for a standard squad marksman. The sidekick carried only a plain Mauser 98K, though his pack was laden with a stove, tent, and other odds and ends.

“Heard you had a Soviet sniper problem, so they called me over. We’re volunteers, our unit’s weapons are your hand-me-downs. That’s fine, but we only brought three days of food and it took us two days to get here, so… we’ll need some chow,” the lead sniper said in a peculiar German accent.

Dressed like a beggar, and sure enough, the first thing out of his mouth was asking for food. The German platoon leader looked at the tattered SS uniforms on the two men. They didn’t even have proper tactical vests. It was obvious they were “mercenaries” sent from a German puppet state. One could only imagine their combat effectiveness.

But since they were here as reinforcements, he couldn’t just be rude. Basic courtesy was still required. So the platoon leader didn’t say much, just nodded and shouted into the next room, “Hans! Bring two bags of dried potato powder, and grab two sausages.”

“No need for the sausages. Three bags of potato powder will be fine,” the man with the sniper rifle said with a smile to the German platoon leader, whose face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment. “After all, we’re not here to beg. We have a job to do.”

He had his sidekick take the three bags of potato powder, then pointed towards the forward positions. “I need to know the locations where your men were recently picked off by the sniper. This information is crucial for planning our tactics.”

“Sure, one of them was near here…” the German platoon leader began, pointing to a local map behind him.

But his gesture was immediately cut off by the man in his thirties. “Sir! What I mean is, I need you or someone you assign to take us to see the scenes in person. This is very important for us. One mistake could cost us our lives.”

The German platoon leader’s finger hung in mid-air. He turned to look at the man who had interrupted him. The man’s eyes were clear and transparent, with an indescribable calmness. For some reason, as if possessed, he finally spoke, saying words he hadn’t intended to say: “I’ll take you there myself.”

And so the three of them left the room, went around a half-crumbled wall into a trench, and then, crouching low, they carefully picked their way forward. The German soldiers they passed were either resting with their eyes closed or sitting in corners watching them. Few saluted, and no one spoke.

“The first soldier was hit here,” the platoon leader said, cautiously approaching a relatively shallow section of the trench. He pointed to a more open area. “He was carrying ammunition, and for some reason, he straightened up, so he was shot in the head.”

The middle-aged sniper nodded, then moved to a slightly different spot, poked his head out for a split second, and then pulled it back. “Alright, let’s go to the next incident location.”

One after another, the three of them went through almost all the positions held by the remaining 82 men of the company, looking at the locations where the several Germans had been killed by the Soviet sniper. After that, the middle-aged sniper once again forced a smile and said, “Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ve learned everything we needed to know.”

“When… when will you act?” the platoon leader asked.

The middle-aged sniper answered with some embarrassment, “You know, we snipers can sometimes stay put for a whole day, so I’m not sure exactly when we’ll make our move… but if I haven’t reported any progress to you after three days, I think you’ll need to request a better sniper from above to handle this tricky situation.”

After speaking, the middle-aged sniper, with his sidekick carrying all sorts of daily necessities, circled out of the trench, turned a few street corners, and disappeared from everyone’s sight.

“Hey, Platoon Leader… isn’t the rule that when a unit like ours requests a sniper, they’re supposed to send a German sniper to help?” a sergeant whispered to the German platoon leader who had just seen off his guests. “Why did they send someone from a puppet state this time?”

The platoon leader shrugged and replied helplessly, “You ask me, I don’t know why either. But since they’re here, let’s just be careful and wait for news.”

“That platoon leader wasn’t telling the truth. Or rather, of the positions he showed us, two were wrong,” the middle-aged sniper muttered to his assistant as he walked, his old Mauser 98K sniper rifle slung over his back. “The first soldier was probably taken out by a Soviet sniper hiding in that half-collapsed bell tower over there… That’s a good spot. The range and angle are just right. The other guy is a pro.”

The sidekick found a corner between two ruined walls, put down the odds and ends he was carrying, and then began to set up a tattered tent with patches. In this place, which was full of rubble and corpses, the tent seemed to have an upgraded camouflage function, looking from the outside like just a pile of rubbish in a corner.

He set up the stove, placed the military mess tin on the alcohol burner, and then calmly unscrewed his canteen and poured water into it. His movements were incredibly practiced. Soon, he had prepared a feast of mashed potatoes. The two of them sat on some rocks and began to wolf it down.

“We’ll head back after we finish eating,” the sidekick finally said, with a distinct lack of backbone.

“Yeah, after we’re done, we’ll find a place, fire a few shots, and then we’ll leave,” the middle-aged sniper nodded, seeming to agree with his sidekick’s words. After saying this, as if afraid the other would eat more, he continued to devour the unpalatable German-made mashed potatoes.

The sidekick, who had proposed the idea of going back, was taken aback. He then looked at the middle-aged sniper, whose stubble was already quite thick, his eyes filled with a questioning look. But in the end, he didn’t say anything, just followed the middle-aged man’s rhythm and also began to swallow quickly.

He did not choose the few common sniper positions on the German side. No matter how much his sidekick suggested, the middle-aged man refused to set up his position in any of them. He stubbornly chose an inconspicuous collapsed building and carefully set up his sniper’s nest there.

In this building, with only a corner of the second floor remaining, the middle-aged sniper silently poked the muzzle of his gun through a crack and aimed at a building he had been observing for a long time. He then held still, slowly moving his scope, searching for a relatively suspicious target.

Soon, he found two very suspicious places. On the suspicious building opposite, a curtain in front of a window was swaying back and forth in the wind. A blurry black shadow could be faintly seen behind it, it was impossible to tell what it was. The other dangerous target was on the roof of the building. There was a shattered statue there, and it looked like a very good firing position.

“Killing an ordinary infantryman is an extremely unprofitable act. The only explanation for the Soviet sniper doing so is this,” the middle-aged sniper said, as if to himself, gently and slowly working the bolt on his sniper rifle, chambering a round. “That is, you want to tell the German sniper who comes looking for you that you are on that bell tower opposite!”

After loading the bullet and preparing to fire, the middle-aged sniper slowly moved his muzzle, inch by inch, aiming the dark muzzle at the window where the curtain was fluttering in the distance. “So you’ve left me a suitable sniper position, waiting for me to go up and aim my muzzle at the bell tower—while you’re here with your sniper rifle, waiting for me… a very clever trap.”

As he muttered, he pressed his finger on the trigger of the sniper rifle, then suddenly paused. He then slowly crawled back from his previous position, all the way to the top of the stairs, before he got up in a wretched state. The sidekick, who was squatting at the top of the stairs with his gun, looked at him with a disdainful expression, seeing that he had retreated without firing a shot.

“I just felt that this position was a bit uncomfortable to lie in,” the middle-aged sniper said with an embarrassed smile. He then walked down the stairs, came to the end of the ruins, and in an inconspicuous corner, found a tattered cloth and covered himself with it. He then simply raised his rifle.

Then, from an even more concealed position, he spotted two ambushing Soviet snipers. One of them was holding a brand-new sniper rifle, and his sights were aimed right at the second-floor building where he had just been ambushed.

“You really take me for an easy target, to think you can just kill me whenever you want?” the middle-aged sniper muttered, pressing the core of his scope’s crosshairs onto this Soviet sniper, who was completely unaware of the impending danger. He then pulled the trigger with a jerk.

In the headquarters of the German 14th Panzer Corps, the chief of staff frowned as he stared at the letter of recommendation from a friendly unit. He felt that to transfer a sniper to help in combat did not need to trouble a corps-level command structure, let alone a rookie from a puppet state.

But after he had finished reading the letter of recommendation, he suddenly looked up and looked at the officer who had delivered it. “Is what’s written in this letter true?”

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