Imperial Overlord

If in this world, the Mediterranean coast has almost forgotten the war, then the most tragic war area is near Moscow.

The speed of the German army's advance was slowed down here, but the casualties of the Soviet army were also increasing exponentially.

If only 1,000 people were killed in one day, everyone would feel that this was a day when the fighting was not fierce.

Chris, his comrade-in-arms, father and antenna, fought in such an environment and lived tenaciously.

The good news is that General Guderian's armored forces have arrived near Ryazan, and Moscow has been completely surrounded on three sides.

If the areas blocked by artillery were counted, the Soviet army would have to pay a heavy price if they wanted to reinforce or retreat from the Moscow region.

The three of them are sitting together in a group at this moment, enjoying a sumptuous lunch. For them, it has been a long time since they had such a delicious lunch.

They occupied a Soviet-held area and found a stockpile of food there—many potatoes and some vegetables.

Of course, just these things are not enough, so they opened the cans they had treasured for a long time, and poured out the oil, water and starchy meat in them.

This is definitely a rare feast, because an infantry company has already opened up in front of them and occupied a position, so they can eat their own food with confidence.

And the price they had to pay was that they had to give the infantry company some potatoes, which they obviously wanted to do.

After all, eating a delicious meal at such a time will be very helpful for their upcoming battle.

"Delicious! Although the canned food doesn't taste very good, I still think it is delicious." Cyric was so touched that he was about to cry while eating his own canned food.

The boiled vegetable leaves and potatoes are mixed together, it is simply the best in the world! As long as you eat a warm meal, it is heaven for frontline soldiers.

"Huh! We probably haven't cooked anything hot for 3 days." Dad Buck was also satisfied.

When they were fighting, they lived on compressed rations, which were dry and hard like stones.

Aside from being able to feed your hunger, things like compressed biscuits are nothing like garbage. Either tasteless or salty and disgusting.

"I heard that if Moscow is taken down, we can go back to the second line to rest. By then, we will have hot meals every day, and we can take a bath." Dad glanced at Cyric, who was still bandaged on his arm, and the others who had already Chris, who could not see the injury, said.

Chris didn't speak. He fished out a large piece of potato and vegetable leaves from the pot left by the Soviets, and stuffed it into his mouth regardless of whether it was hot or not.

This time, Cyric and Dad stopped talking. They found that Chris ate the most and took advantage of them while they were talking.

The three of them devoured like this, ignoring the corpse of a Soviet soldier lying not far away.

The Soviet soldier had a hole in his head that Chris had shot through. They were able to occupy this place intact, thanks to this shot.

Obviously, the Soviet soldier planned to die with the German troops who rushed up, as can be seen from the two grenades that rolled down next to the corpse.

"Slow down! Eat slowly! No way to cook another pot." Looking at the potato sacks stacked in the corner, the old man couldn't help it, and persuaded.

However, Chris and Cyric were still reluctant and continued to gobble the food in the pot. On the one hand, they are hungry, and on the other hand, they have formed a habit.

No one spends half an hour on the battlefield going to dinner, because that would be too extravagant, no one knows when the enemy's counterattack will begin, and no one knows when the shells will fall.

Halfway through the meal, the enemy launched a counterattack, and the rest of the meal could not be eaten in the stomach, and could only be thrown away.

What's even more irritating is that halfway through the meal, the enemy started shelling - the dust raised by the artillery can immediately destroy the food, making people laugh and cry.

Therefore, anyone who has been on the battlefield will develop the good habit of eating at the fastest speed. Of course, chatting while eating is also one of the good habits.

It's a rare leisure time. If you don't take it out and make fun of it, how can you be worthy of such a luxurious lunch?

When everything in the pot was gone and the spoon could touch the bottom of the pot, Dad poured the potatoes cut with the bayonet into the pot again.

Chris didn't talk nonsense, he directly took out his own alcohol block, just used the fuel that Dad carried with him, now it's time to use his.

Cyric also cooperated very well, and threw the vegetable leaves that were simply washed with the water in the kettle into the pot.

Pour some water, sprinkle some salt, and everyone starts to wait again - this time everyone is happy, happy waiting for the beautiful moment to come.

"Tutu! Tutu!" In the distance, the unique sound of the MG-42 machine gun began to roar, not in their location, but in a farther place.

This shows that a fierce fight has begun again, and some people will die in these ruins before they have time to eat this lunch.

Cyric looked at the churning pot in front of him and the sticky food inside, and didn't have the heart to care about the battle in the distance.

"Are these Soviets crazy? It's time to start fighting back?" Chris, who looked at the sky outside the window and swallowed the last bit of food in his mouth, was finally willing to speak.

The old man beside him rolled his eyes angrily~www.wuxiaspot.com~ He grabbed the least pot of food just now: "Now talk? You are responsible for writing the report in the afternoon."

Chris smiled, revealing a set of white teeth. There was also a vegetable leaf hanging above his teeth, showing the ferocity of what he just ate.

Far, far away, the German artillery joined the battlefield performance, and the raindrops of artillery shells fell, interweaving into a mourning song.

"150mm caliber artillery... It seems that today is the turn of the train artillery position to rest." Hearing the familiar ballistic whistle and the sound of the explosion, Cyric easily identified the caliber of his own artillery.

If he listened carefully, he could even hear the number of guns fired. It was his hobby and the hobby of many soldiers.

It's just that now he doesn't have time to distinguish the sound of these cannons, because the food in the pot is almost ready.

At this moment, food is their best spiritual sustenance. As for the Moscow under their feet - let it be with Stalin, go to hell...