"Damn, why didn't you notice it just now?"

"I'm blocked by the woods, what should I do now!"

"Keep calm and drive over like this." Sweenbach patted his deputy on the shoulder, then turned his head and shouted to his subordinates behind him: "There are roadblocks set up by the Soviet border guards in front. I am going to try my best to get through. Everyone should adapt to the situation at that time."

The officers and soldiers of the werewolf troops have all received systematic agent training. Compared with the early Brandenburg troops, they paid more attention to actual combat capabilities, so in theory they can be classified as special forces or as enhanced versions of armed spies.

"I understand, sergeant." The soldiers replied in unison.

“Who is scared?”

"No, Sgt.

"Very good!" Sweenbach was very satisfied with his subordinates' mental state.

"Stop slowly, Crent. Also... keep smiling." The SS sergeant reminded, and at the same time inserted Tokarev back into the holster at his waist.

The distance was so close that we could see each other's faces clearly. A border guard sergeant wearing a gray winter coat shook a red traffic command sign in his hand, and the command truck slowly stopped in front of the roadblock.

"Please get out of the car, Comrade National Security Lieutenant." The sergeant walked to the side of the passenger seat and saluted Swaynebach.

"No problem, sergeant." Sweenbach put the PPD in his seat, opened the door and jumped out of the car.

"Please show your ID, Comrade National Security Lieutenant." Seeing the blue big-brimmed hat, the border guards on the roadside couldn't help but lower the gun in their hands.

"Okay, comrade Sergeant." Sweenbach smiled and took out the officer's certificate from the inner bag of the coat, raised his hand and handed it to the sergeant.

"The 236th Independent Guard Battalion of the Internal Affairs Force, Lieutenant Andrey Yermakovic Nazar" Sergeant lowered his head and flipped through the ID, then looked up and compared the photos.

"Is there any problem? Comrade Sergeant," asked Sweenbach.

"Ah, no problem, comrade Lieutenant of National Security." The sergeant handed the document back to Sweenbach, and then saluted again: "It's just that this road has been blocked, and your cars cannot pass through here."

"But we have an urgent task." Sweenbach put the ID back into his inner bag.

"Sorry, this is an order issued by the command headquarters, and we have just arrived here." The sergeant shrugged and said that he could not help either.

"It's really unlucky. I knew we should have set off early." Sweenbach glanced at the Maxim 1910 machine gun on the roadside carriage, then took out a cigarette box from his coat pocket, shook out a cigarette and held it in his mouth.

"Do you have a fire on you, Comrade Sergeant?" Sweenbach touched his pocket and then said to the Sergeant.

"For you, Comrade Lieutenant." The sergeant touched the bag of his coat and took out a box of matches from it.

"The weather is really good today. If it snowed like the previous two days, you would suffer." Sweenbach lit the matches and lit the cigarettes, then handed back the remaining half of the cigarettes with the matches.

"How can you be so embarrassed, Comrade Lieutenant." The sergeant took the cigarette happily.

Ordinary Soviet soldiers have rations of 100 grams of tobacco leaves every month, which is the legendary Mohe cigarette, which has become a tradition of the Red Army.

Everyone actually knows that cigarettes are easy to smoke, but they have to pay for them themselves, which was quite expensive at that time.

The Red Army troops stationed in Poland could buy some locally produced cheap cigarettes. These Polish cigarettes were just changed to a Soviet-style brand and started to be sold to the grassroots Red Army units. The problem is that in the eyes of the Red Army soldiers, the quality of Polish tobacco leaves is not as good as that of the Soviet Union. It would be fine if the smell was bad, but not even the energy was strong enough.

What Sweenbach took out was a white sea canal cigarette in a carton, which was a shortage of goods even in the Soviet Union and was only distributed to the officer class in the Red Army.

The White Sea Canal is very distinctive to the Soviet Union. It does not have the filters like European high-end cigarettes. Instead, it does not fill the tobacco at one end of the cigarette, and deliberately empty it out. A thicker layer of cigarette paper is wrapped outside, forming a piece of paper cigarette mouth.

This kind of cigarette is as vigorous as other Soviet cigarettes, and it won't make you smoke when smoking, so it's very popular among middle and lower-level Soviet officers.

It is said that although they are also under the management of the People's Committee of the Internal Affairs, the treatment of the Internal Affairs Force is much better than that of the border guards. In the sequence of the Soviet state machinery, they belong to the privileged class, just like several types of technical troops.

"I'm sorry I can't help you, but you can go around from the west, Comrade Lieutenant." In the envious eyes of his subordinates, the sergeant pulled out a cigarette from the cigarette box and then put the cigarette box into his coat pocket.

"Do you know what happened before?" Swaynebach vomited a smoke ring.

"I'm not very clear, I just received a call from the battalion headquarters, saying that it was an order issued by the regiment." The sergeant lit a match and lit a cigarette.

"You are from Zabinka, Comrade Lieutenant."

"How did you know?"

"One of my cousins ​​is now serving as a sergeant in the 236 Independent Guard Battalion. You may know him, Murasov Nikolai Matavovich." The sergeant threw the matchstick to the ground and stretched out his feet to crush it.

"Well, I don't know you, but I seem to have heard from someone." Swaynebach dusted the ashes.

"What is transported behind the car? Comrade Lieutenant." The sergeant asked with one hand behind his back, holding a cigarette in his mouth.

"Ah, there is nothing, it's just some..." Sweenbach said, turning around and looking at the carriage. The moment he turned around, the SS officer quickly pulled Tokarev out of his gun holster.

Before the other party could react, the cold muzzle had already pressed his forehead.

"It didn't have to be done like this, Comrade Sergeant." Sweenbach pushed the gun forward.

"When did you start to be suspicious, Comrade Sergeant?"

"The White Sea Canal you brought was out of stock a month ago. Moreover, Matavovich is not a sergeant, but a lieutenant and staff officer in the battalion." The sergeant replied calmly.

"This is indeed a mistake, I will learn from my lessons." Sweenbach said with a smile.

"I advise you to put down your weapons and surrender immediately. The unknown spy agent, now the areas around the border have been blocked by us, and you and your companions cannot escape." The sergeant was not afraid, but began to persuade the other party to surrender.

"Is that so? Comrade Sergeant, then we can see." During these days, he had seen too many such opponents, and he was deeply respectful of the courage and perseverance shown by these people. So, as usual, SS sergeant pulled the trigger of the pistol without hesitation.

Immediately afterwards, a heavy rain sounded, and the scene was instantly shrouded in a light blue smoke.

The cold wind quickly blew away the smoke, and a whole squad of Soviet border guards had all fallen into their own pool of blood.

This team of border guards is all ordinary infantry, only equipped with Mosinnagan rifles. Although they were already prepared, they were still caught off guard by the Germans.

One of the biggest mistakes made by these border guards was that they did not check the carriage. The blue hat made them less vigilant and they didn't expect that there would be so many enemies hidden in the carriage.

The four-wheeled cart they were riding in was equipped with a Russian Maxim without shields, but the main and deputy machine gunners were knocked over into the car before they could even shoot a bullet.

"How did you find out he has something wrong? Sergeant." Crent asked Sweenbach while searching the body of the sergeant in the border guard.

"His hand quietly made gestures behind him, but the look of the soldier behind him betrayed him." Sweenbach wiped his hand with a strip of cloth. The distance of the shooting just now was too close, and blood and brains splattered on the gun body and back of the hand.

"Put the body onto the carriage, then push the carriage into the bushes over there, collect the ammunition from the body, don't forget to bring that Maxim with you." Sweenbach made a loud call.

"What should we do now? The border has been blocked." Crent took out the box of cigarettes from the sergeant's coat pocket.

"Do you know what General Clausewiz likes to say the most?"

"I don't know, war is a continuation of politics?"

"wrong."

"The purpose of war is to destroy the enemy?"

"Not right, Crent...if you find that there is no way, just kill one." The SS sergeant raised his face and looked into the distance.

"This...it was actually yours." Crent looked at the squad leader with a slanting eye.
Chapter completed!