Zhukov was not sure whether he could become a hero of the Soviet Union. Just like the Soviet soldiers defending in Smolensk, he didn't know whether he could see the sun tomorrow.

The teacher who had just enlisted in the army was holding his rifle and leaning against a broken and collapsed low wall. Beside him, there was a pool of vomit that had been condensed into a paste, which looked very disgusting. The teacher also had the same dirty things on his collar and the sleeves. Depending on the situation, he should have spitted out these things.

Just now, he saw with his own eyes a Soviet soldier hit the head by a stray bullet, and his entire helmet was cut open by shrapnel. His head was covered in a ball of paste, and the internal structure was basically impossible to see clearly. The dead Soviet soldier was talking to him just now, but in less than a second, a living person turned into a broken corpse under his feet.

Even the shouting was not too late, and even a goodbye was not too late. A fresh life ended in such a humble end. No one even asked about the body, but the corpse was piled up in the corner and turned into a piece of frozen meat that was blown hard by the cold wind.

But as a teacher who was teaching children more than ten days ago, he saw a person's head shattered by shrapnel in front of him, and the blood and brain matter were sprayed on his face, with a hint of warm breath. This feeling recurred in his heart, making him feel his stomach turbulent.

More than ten days ago he was a teacher who taught literature, but more than ten days later he became a soldier who fought bravely for the motherland. Looking at the Mosinnagan rifle in his hand and seeing the mottled blood stains on it, he felt that what he had just eaten had started to tossing again. He swallowed and forced his eyes to leave his vomit and blood.

Why is a soldier who goes from signs to enlisting in the army to strict training and finally going to the battlefield is still just a recruit? Because he must go through the test of life and death, be accustomed to killing and cruelty, in order to truly transform and transform into a veteran who dares to kill and no longer fears. This process cannot be done in a shortcut, or at least he cannot be transitioned by too many tricks.

For example, in order to make soldiers adapt to the killing, Japan once used Chinese military and civilians as targets to practice the army's assassination technology. This method can be said to be able to replace some of the actual combat effects, but cannot completely replace the role of actual combat.

Because on the real battlefield, the continuous firing of cannons and machine guns creates a more chaotic environment, and the enemies killed by soldiers are more morally reasonable, so it is not easy to cause serious psychological burden. Therefore, although the Japanese methods can make up for the shortcomings of actual combat, they will make people become monsters that lose their moral sanity and wisdom, and are inhumane means despised by all human beings.

Let’s not talk about the shameless behavior of Japan for now. After all, if you talk too much, you will feel like you are so unspeakable. The Smolensk people’s teacher here has been squatting in the trenches for two days, but he still hasn’t seen a fierce and vicious person who heard about the German SS who ate Russian civilians raw.

Not to mention the terrible existence of the SS, he had never seen a serious German Wehrmacht before. On several occasions, he could see the domes of several steel helmets in the trenches far away from the opposite side. He found that Soviet soldiers could not hit such a small target at such a distance.

And every time they fire, they will attract large-scale shelling and enemy machine gun bullets. A German weapon called mg42 machine gun is simply a perverted existence. It can use optical scopes to fire at extremely long distances, and the rate of fire is very terrifying.

This weapon can easily hit Soviet soldiers and force groups of Soviet soldiers back to their position when they set off. He once saw several comrades being knocked down by German machine guns, but because the distance was too far, he didn't feel like he was enjoying the blood at close range today.

He wiped his mouth, carefully poked his head out of the low wall, and looked at the unreal German positions opposite. Because he had been teaching in this city, he didn't even know why the originally friendly German army would fight, nor why the Germans who lost the last war became so powerful. He could only carefully observe the situation on the opposite side with his eyes, and observe that he had never even seen the enemy he had seen.

He is a teacher in school, and in class he is the boss who speaks according to the law. The students fear him and respect him. What he says is like an imperial edict in the whole classroom. But now the situation has changed. Bullets are the real boss on this battlefield. All those who attempt to stop the bullets from continuing to fly have become cold corpses.

He had never killed anyone, and he didn't even dare to see his comrades who died beside him. He had never imagined in his life that he would go to the front line one day. He had just learned how to use his rifle yesterday.

Retracting his head and moving his body a little away from the already cold corpse. He leaned against the low wall again, allowing the cold wind to blow through his cheeks. He wrapped his military coat tightly. This was the only clothing he could keep warm. Although there were vomiting residue on it, it was better than being frozen to death.

Suddenly, he remembered his hobby at school, so he leaned against the wall and whispered with rhyme words and began to chant a rhythmic poem. This is the way he used to relieve his emotions and a pastime he likes very much:

"The trench in the snow,

It is the reliance of life;

A wide and beautiful road,

Set up a cold cannon.

No children crying,

There is no angel prayer;

There are only corpses,

And the howling of the bomb.”

Just as he was singing happily, another round of German shelling began. This time it was not only a heart-wrenching shelling, but also accompanied by dense gunfire. Several Soviet soldiers ran across the low wall with their weapons. They held their helmets and used their fragmented steps to avoid the rubble scattered on the ground.

"The Germans attacked! The Germans attacked!" A Soviet soldier shouted loudly while running. This sentence made everyone hesitate for a moment. They couldn't believe that after a long preparation, the German attack began without warning.

The Germans attacked? Leaning against the corner of the wall, the Soviet teacher who seemed to have been forgotten raised his head and wanted to show off his head to see the fierce and vicious German soldiers described. But before he could look up to satisfy his curiosity, a bullet hit the standing soldier beside him.

The huge inertia made the soldier fall directly to the ground, and blood seeped out of his chest and dyed the nearby ground red. He wailed and screamed, constantly struggling on the ground, trying to move his already heavy body.

The Soviet teacher wanted to reach out to help and drag the wounded back to the low wall where he was hiding, but he hesitated and struggled, but in the end he didn't have the courage to risk being hit and drag his comrades back to a safe place. After all, even if he stretched out his hand in the rain of bullets, it would take great courage.

Soon, he didn't have to struggle because the wounded man who was close to him stopped moving. He closed his mouth because of excessive bleeding and stopped making hysterical screams. This made the tortured teacher feel much more comfortable and began to study his rifle.

He had just learned to shoot, and had not fired a bullet. He heard the screams of the Soviets on the front positions, and also heard the sound of the enemy machine guns making a saw. I don’t know if it was because of the excessive secretion of adrenaline or for some other reason, he picked up his rifle, pulled the bolt, and slowly pushed a bullet into the chamber.

While loading his rifle bullets, he muttered softly about the poems he wrote himself, and then poked his head out of the corner little by little to observe the bloody scenes on the entire battlefield:

"Curry up your body,

Avoid the scorching fire;

Holding the gun in your hand tightly,

The pride of maintaining honor.”

He saw several Soviet soldiers being driven out of the trench by a German tank. They ran back frantically, but were swept to the ground by machine guns with flames sprayed on the tank body. He saw some German soldiers wearing white hoods jump into the trench of the Soviets and occupy one Soviet position after another.

"Damn bastards! Get out of our city! Get out of our territory! Have your teacher not educated you? The invaders have no good ending!" The teacher muttered, aiming his rifle at a soldier who had never seen a military uniform.

His fingers pulled the trigger, and a huge impact force made his rifle raise high, because he had never used the weapon in his hand. This was the first time he really felt what it felt like when the huge recoil hit his shoulder.

The pain in his shoulder reminded him a little of the environment he was in, and the feeling of fear finally returned to his body. He felt his legs trembling, and the bullets fired did not hit any target because the rifle was not supported just now.
Chapter completed!