Steel Soviet Union

"How's it going? Are you still angry?!"

"Still alive and breathing!"

"Damn it! Send the person to rescue and carry him away! Go to the streets to contact the main force and request emergency medical assistance. Stop the bleeding first, quickly!"

The siege force that was storming forward along the street was just outside the alley. The main force of our own army that was originally the subject of the photo now became the last hope to save the Yankee's life.

As for the current injury, no matter what, some emergency treatment must be done before being sent to the field hospital for rescue. Otherwise, the person may have died before being sent to the field hospital. Requesting the siege team to provide necessary emergency medical treatment became the only and necessary choice at the moment.

Kovanov directed the soldiers to quickly put the seriously injured David on a door panel, and hurriedly lifted the door panel to get the unconscious David out.

On the other side, Sulovechenko, who had successfully captured and controlled the target, had not stopped yet.

Before it was all over, Sulovechenko had one final question to figure out.

"Did you do it alone?"

There was no unnecessary nonsense, and he went straight to the topic when he opened his mouth. Sulovechenko, who spent all his time on the front line and dealt with prisoners, did not lack the ability to master the German language. The next answer of the little kid who was firmly controlled under him was But he was extremely arrogant.

"I can kill you Russian pigs by myself! Bah!"

""

He pointed a gun at someone's head and was spat on. He had never been treated like this since Sulovechenko joined the army, not even during the military academy where he was the most irritated and was targeted by instructors. This humiliation.

However, Sulovechenko's next reaction was to smile instead of anger, a very cold smile.

"Shoot! Russian pig! Your seed is not bigger than the bullet I fired!"

The little kid under him was still beeping non-stop, and he had no idea of ​​life or death at all. Sulovchenko, who was too lazy to continue to maintain this situation, took action immediately without any hesitation.

But not by pulling the trigger.

Instead, he swung the handle of the Tokarev TT33 pistol in his hand with his backhand and hit the face of this naughty brat firmly on the side of his head.

Sulovechenko, who specializes in various capture skills, certainly knows how to knock someone unconscious without being fatal, and the force is just right, neither too big nor too small.

The final result was that this little brat, who was wearing a large SS uniform, was so slapped in the face that he fainted and became completely motionless.

"What to do with him? Comrade Company Commander."

Some of the soldiers were led by Kovanov to rescue people quickly, while the remaining half of the squad stayed behind and waited for dispatch. The leader of the squad had already come to Sulovechenko and asked questions.

"Go on, we've never killed a little brat before, and we won't do it today. Whether it's life or death is left to the big shots above. I'm only responsible for arresting people and not getting involved in this mess."

"Understood, take him down."

After receiving the order, the squad leader waved his hand, and a sturdy soldier holding an AK immediately stepped forward, like a Siberian brown bear lifting a chicken, and lifted the unconscious little girl up by his collar with one hand.

With just a hand and shoulder movement, he put this round thing, which was no different from a sandbag, onto his shoulders. He held the gun in one hand and supported it with the other, then turned around and walked out.

"This thing looks a little different. Comrade Company Commander, I have never seen anything like this before. Take a look."

"Um?"

I thought it was time to close the stall, but except for the little girl who looked like she was frightened, everything seemed to have been taken care of.

But what a soldier brought to him immediately made Sulovechenko, who was about to call it a day and get off work, glared.

The thing in front of me was none other than the murder weapon that Sulovechenko had just knocked out of the hands of that Nazi brat—a German-made 9mm submachine gun that I initially thought was an MP38\\40 series.

But now it seems that the thing in front of me has nothing to do with MP38\\40. It can even be said that the style is completely different.

Sulovechenko took the gun and played with it curiously. It seemed that whether it was the marks on the gun body or the workmanship materials, the unseen junk in his hand gave off an unprecedented shabby atmosphere.

Compared with the German guy's latest STG44, which is full of materials and bigger than his own AK, the two are like heaven and earth. Sulovechenko can't help but ask a curious question. .

"It looks like a British Stern. The craftsmanship and materials used are quite shabby. I have seen photos in books before. But there are some differences. This thing is fed from the bottom, while the Stern's junk is inserted horizontally. magazine."

"Could it be a new gadget made by the Germans by imitating the British's broken gun? This thing should be easy to produce, and it doesn't look like a personal handicraft."

The outstanding cultural level and comprehensive quality of the grassroots officers and soldiers of the leading division enable even ordinary soldiers to see through a new gun that they have never seen before and see some basic knowledge related to it. This is not difficult. Su is not the only one. Only Comrade Lovichenko, the captain who takes the lead, can do this.

"Maybe. It really doesn't look like a handmade product. There are traces of lathe turning on the receiver. This thing should have come off the production line."

After a brief research, I didn't find anything more valuable. When I pulled out the magazine, I also found that this thing uses an open-cocking design. There is no waiting round in the chamber, so there is no need to manually unload the bullet to ensure it. It is safe and does not cause fire.

He casually put the magazine with some bullets left in his pocket, grabbed the "mysterious weapon" he had captured, and threw it behind his back.

He put the pistol back into the holster and picked up the AK hanging on his waist again, returning to standard combat status.

Sulovechenko, who was just about to leave, then remembered that there was a little girl standing beside him, and he had to retract his outstretched leg and turn around again.

It was only after getting closer that I realized that the little girl in front of me looked crazy, about eight or nine years old.

He was wearing a pair of coarse overalls and a tattered shirt. The shoes on his feet were so worn that the lining could be seen. His little face was covered with dust, not to mention some bloodshot scars.

The war has brought nothing but dullness, helplessness and bewilderment in this child's eyes, and even the last trace of fear has been almost eliminated by the long-lasting numbness.

Looking at the little girl in front of him, Sulovchenko, who had a sinister sneer on his face not long ago, had a completely different expression at this moment. He spoke in the same tone as a good uncle passing by on the street to help the lost little girl find her mother. asked.

"Little girl, what is your name? Where are your parents?"