Not far after the troops rushed out of the forest, they were spotted by the Germans at the entrance of the village. After a brief panic, the well-trained German soldiers reacted. The soldier with the rifle immediately lay down on the snow. The soldier with the submachine gun squatted halfway and fired at the charging troops together.

　　 Originally in recent battles, the soldiers used squad as a unit to attack. When one squad charged, the other squad would definitely lie on the ground to provide them with fire cover. But because the charge was too slow on knee-deep snow, the soldiers were used as live targets. In just one or two minutes, twenty or thirty people fell under German shooting.

　　 Watching their comrades fall down by their side, the living soldiers were blushing. They didn't care about the tactics of alternate attacks with firepower to cover. They all rushed forward with their weapons.

　　 I rushed forward several tens of meters with my submachine gun, then stopped and shot. Maybe it was because the distance was too far, the shooting accuracy was not enough, and no one hit. Before I finished shooting a bullet, the gun jammed unexpectedly. Just as I was looking at it, Grisa's voice suddenly came from behind: "Be careful!" Then I was thrown over from behind.

　　 Although he fell heavily to the ground, he didn't feel any pain because of the thick snow. Hearing the screaming of bullets flying over my head, I knew that Grisa saved my life just now.

　　 "Comrade Master, are you okay?" Grisa called in my ear.

　　 "It's okay!" I replied loudly, and then I threw the jammed submachine gun aside, lay on the snow and looked left and right to see if there were any weapons that I could use.

　　Grisa was lying next to me, holding a rifle that I didn't know where he picked it up from, closed one eye and took aim, then pulled the trigger without hesitation. As the gun rang, a German soldier squatting and shooting fell to the ground.

"Good marksmanship!" Seeing this shot he fired, I couldn't help but yelled out. At the same time, I remembered that he had been a personal guard for General Leviakin before becoming my driver. He had such marksmanship. Not surprisingly.

　　 I caught a glimpse of a sacrificed soldier not far from the right, lying on his back on the snow, his rifle still in his hand. As soon as I rolled on the spot, I rolled to his side, grabbed the rifle, aimed at a German soldier who was lying on the ground and shooting. After the gunshot, a bright line swiftly penetrated from the German soldier's forehead, dragged the blood foam from the back of the head, and drilled obliquely. The head of the shot German soldier leaned back, and then his body tilted to one side.

　　 The charging troops had already approached the entrance of the village, and a soldier in the front was only a dozen meters away from the German soldier who was shooting, and he could rush in front of the enemy as long as he worked harder. A bullet from an unknown place hit him, and the soldier halted, stood still and swayed, then fell softly on the snow.

　　 The German soldiers in the village heard the gunshots from the village entrance, and they rushed out of the village with their weapons, and shot at us together with the German soldiers who were staying at the village entrance. Under the intensive firepower of the enemy, the charging soldiers fell one after another.

　　 Just then, a mortar shell whizzed and flew towards the entrance of the village. Maybe it was because the gunner fired too hurriedly. He didn't even adjust the angle, but fired. As a result, the shells did not concentrate the German soldiers, but fell on the villagers' corpses and exploded. After a loud bang, flesh and blood flew around, and fragments of limbs and blood splashed around the German soldiers.

The next few shells fired by the artillery were much more accurate, and almost all fell in the middle of the German army. The explosion of air lifted one German soldier from the ground and threw it high into the air. Fell heavily.

　　 I don't know if it was because of our army's artillery fire or because the bullets were shot out. The German soldiers who had gathered at the entrance of the village turned around and ran towards the village. Our soldiers took the opportunity to chase them forward.

　　 I fired again and knocked down a German officer who was running wildly towards the village. Then I stood up calmly, put the rifle on my shoulder, and walked towards the entrance of the village with Grisa.

　　The battle ended ten minutes later, and the villagers who were held in the church by the German army were rescued by Yushchenko with soldiers.

　　 The two siblings, Marina and Anton, who led us, saw the villagers we rescued and suddenly ran to one of the middle-aged women who was wearing a headscarf and a big shawl. Seeing the scene of a middle-aged woman hugging two children and crying together, I knew that this must be the mother of the two children.

　　 I walked up to them and silently looked at the family of three who had survived the catastrophe, and I couldn't help feeling very much. Suddenly an old lady with a turban rushed over, hugged me, and thanked me verbally. Following her demonstration, the rescued villagers also gathered around one after another to express their gratitude to me. Immediately a few old ladies still weeping bitterly asked me to be the master of them and execute all the German robbers.

　　 I looked around and saw that almost all of them were middle-aged and elderly women, and there were no young adults. It is estimated that they have all gone to the front. In the distance, there were a few young girls wrapped in unfit military coats. They were probably the ones who were driven to the entrance of the village by the German army and were about to be shot. If it hadn't been for our army to launch an offensive in time, it is estimated that they have all suffered accidents at this time.

Yushchenko walked up to me and reported loudly: "Report to Comrade Commander, we have captured 17 German soldiers, one of whom is an officer. Will we arrange for someone to send them to the prisoners behind? Camp?"

　　 "I want to see your supreme commander...I want to see your supreme commander..." someone in the distance shouted loudly in bad Russian.

　　 "Who is that?" I asked Yushchenko who was standing in front of me lightly.

Yushchenko looked in the direction of the voice and replied to me, "It was the captured officer. He said that the SS who slaughtered the villagers, and they were the Wehrmacht. I hope you can give him a prisoner of war response. Some treatment. Look, what should I do with them?"

　　 The villagers who heard our conversation became quiet, looked at me silently, and waited for my final decision.

　　 I saw the scene just now with my own eyes. It is unrealistic for me to forgive the German soldiers who committed the anger. So I replied coldly: “Let every soldier go to the entrance of the village to see the villagers who were slaughtered by the fascist bandits. These innocent villagers, especially the girls who were ruined by them, before they were shot. These executioners begged for mercy, but they were still mercilessly slaughtered. For these executioners whose hands were soaked in the blood of the villagers, we absolutely cannot forgive them lightly."

　　 "But..." Yushchenko said at a loss: "Shoot the prisoner who put down the weapon. It's not good."

　　 "We don't need captives," I resolutely said: "According to the regulations, the commander's orders do not need to be discussed. Captain Yushchenko, don't keep one, shoot all of them, hurry up and execute the order!"

　　 "Yes!" Yushchenko agreed, turned and left amidst the cheers of the villagers, to carry out the order I gave.