Imperial Overlord

The war has cost the Soviet Union too many soldiers, and the wounded here are only a small part of it.

Moreover, the war is far from over, maybe even the climax!

"Go and collect the wounded! Send them here!" shouting to his soldiers, the old commander took the lead to pick up a stretcher and walked towards the direction where the black smoke was blowing.

Not all the wounded can be treated, and not all the wounded can't walk back on their own.

Between the front line and the rear, there are many intermediate spaces for temporary placement of wounded soldiers, and the Soviet Union's usual practice is to leave the wounded somewhere, then insert a sapphire shovel, and then buckle the wounded's helmet on the shovel - just like like a grave.

Everyone didn't speak much, just looking for soldiers who could still be treated from the piles of **** frontline wounded soldiers.

The soldiers dragged the stretcher and stepped forward step by step, the corpses of the already cold Soviet soldiers and civilians.

Soon, they saw a wounded soldier lying on the ground, spitting blood, pleading in an unclear voice: "Save me, please save me."

"Hey! There's a living person here." The soldier who heard the shout screamed to his comrade in panic, and then the two ran over hoping to help.

But obviously not every living person can be saved. Looking at the soldier calling for help in front of him, everyone closed their mouths.

The wounded soldier had lost one of his legs and appeared to have been broken by a large-caliber bullet. His blood was all over the place, and he was obviously dying.

Even if such wounded are carried back to the hospital at the rear, they will only wait for their death. The Soviet army did not have the drugs and energy to treat such a wounded, which would allow him to fend for himself.

Ruthless, leaving the poor wounded, the Soviet soldiers who came to help continued to stagger forward. On the way, they passed a place similar to a mass grave. Looking at the rotting corpses, everyone almost felt vomit out.

It was already June, and the decay of the corpse was a matter of course. In order not to turn Moscow into a big plague field, the corpses must be disposed of in time.

The Soviet army didn't have time to bury these bodies, so they could only pile them up here, and then marked with warning signs, prohibiting personnel from approaching here.

The front line was not far from the hoarding of corpses. The people who came to help quickly found some soldiers with shoulder and rib injuries, and put these lucky guys on stretchers and sent them back.

While they were putting the wounded on the stretcher, the blood-covered wounded soldier lying not far away let out a wailing: "Help! Help me! Mom! Take me out of here! Please! Take me with you! let's go!"

There are too many wounded, and many people can still be saved. Some wounded wounded in the leg could not be followed, but they were able to leave with some minor wounded in the arm.

Ignoring the pleading voices of the wounded, the Soviet soldiers who came to help carry the wounded returned to the direction of the hospital on the same route under the command of the commander.

On the way back, everyone saw the wounded soldier without a leg. He lay there motionless, the blood under his body had solidified in the soil, and the desperate sadness in his eyes made people suddenly want to cry.

You don't need to check to know that he is dead, and the dead can't die anymore. There is no way to rescue the bleeding, because the Soviet Union lacks enough plasma for rescue.

Back at the hospital, a tired-looking medic came to the stretchers that were being brought back. He looked at one of the wounded wounded, then motioned to carry the wounded in.

Immediately afterward, he walked to the side of the other wounded, checked the other's wounds, then shook his head and said, "Put him in the waiting area over there!"

The waiting area is almost the abandoned treatment area. No one will care if you enter there, you can only lie on the ground and wait to die.

Looking at the third wounded, the medic stretched out his hand and tore off the opponent's clothes where the bullet was shot.

"Ah!" The wounded soldier let out a piercing scream, and his blood was pouring out, splashing the face of the soldier carrying the stretcher next to him.

The medic didn't even look at the wounded soldier. He stared at the soldier carrying the stretcher and said, "Help you plug the hole with your fingers! You can leave when the two people who are responsible for the bandages come over there."

Hearing that he was going to plug the hole that had been pierced by bullets with his own fingers, the soldier carrying the stretcher swallowed a mouthful of saliva, then bit his head and really pressed his fingers on the wound.

"Ah!" The wounded in unbearable pain continued to let out a scream like killing a pig, making everyone's face turn pale.

"Is there any better way?" Looking at the pained expressions of the wounded, a Soviet platoon leader who came to help asked, he didn't want to be carried here to be treated like this after being injured.

"Comrade! I haven't slept all day, and I have dealt with more than 100 wounded! If I followed the medical procedures carefully, I could only save about 10 people a day!" The medic's eyes were bloodshot. , ignored the platoon leader and walked to another stretcher in the distance.

"If you can come to help, just do as I say. There are not many people who can be saved. You are wasting their time." Halfway through, the medic turned to his side and added this sentence.

The stretchers were placed one by one on the ground, and some of them had been stained with blood. The wounded lay on stretchers like this, waiting for the medic in front of him to tell the arrangement that would determine their fate.

The elderly officer at the head snorted coldly and said to his subordinates, "You know now, right? This is war! It's not easy to survive~www.wuxiaspot. com~ All the soldiers who heard this sentence did not look very good. Most of them had never been on the battlefield, but they were already frightened by the sight in front of them.

The soldier on the stretcher gasped in pain and groaned loudly. Looking at the comrade who had inserted his thumb into the bleeding wound, he said weakly and stammered, "Thank... Thank you."

No one wants to be such a wounded person. Everyone knows that once they are injured, in such a harsh environment, it is almost equivalent to death.

Shooting a shot in the head after being shot may be a more comfortable way to die - but even if they know that they can't escape a death sentence, few people have the courage to commit suicide.

In the evening, the soldiers of the 20th Infantry Division of the Guards returned to their barracks. In the early morning of tomorrow, they will go to the front line to face the fierce attack of the German army and experience the terrible hell-like war.

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In the ninth update, Long Ling is going to rest, and the tenth update was not completed... Let's make up for the tenth update tomorrow!