My Third Empire

How's this pose? With his hand on the statue, Ren tried his best to look righteous and dignified. On the opposite side of him were three or four professional photographers with cameras. These people were holding spotlights. , chooses different angles that he thinks are perfect, and presses the shutter frantically against Ren. 【First Release】

On the way here, he knew that the food, clothing, accommodation, and holiday travel in Berlin would never be as easy as he imagined. Sure enough, the next day, the German Propaganda Department came to a whole propaganda team, and started to pack the two teams from head to toe.

Look up, yes! Lift your chin up! Okay! Put your hands on the belt, that's right! a photographer shouted loudly, fiddling with his camera. Ryan suddenly had a feeling that if he were a big blond beauty, this photo might feel better...and more popular, of course.

The only thing that made him feel lucky was that the photographer who brought these photographers was a beautiful woman in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses. How beautiful is that woman? I heard that she is so beautiful that she has been having an affair with the head of state. That round ass, slender waist, and plump breasts all made people swallowing saliva involuntarily. I heard that her name is Fanny, she is really a good woman.

Being the head of state is really a blessed profession. Ren thought very seriously. I heard that the wife of the President is more beautiful, this rumor seems to be boasting now, this Fanny is already a great beauty, how could someone be more beautiful than her?

While thinking about it, I took my hand back from the fake statue. The statue was modeled after a statue in a square in Warsaw, Poland. .

They are in a military camp now, and after a few days of filming they need to print and distribute propaganda posters throughout the army. In order to be foolproof, even Fanny, the Minister of the German Propaganda Department, took time out of her busy schedule to personally fuck this important propaganda campaign. Because the nearly 10,000 casualties have reduced the enthusiasm for joining the army in the country, the head of state ordered to use all possible means to publicize the war in Poland.

Soon enough, the fake photo was done. The rest can come true: the crew members were called into the tank, and they made the movements the photographer wanted in the most understandable and relaxed poses. At this moment, they seemed to have regained their souls. It hurts a little bit to look at it.

In the hustle and bustle of the city, in those boring activities, Ren and the others always seemed to feel that they were missing something. At this moment-when they touched their tanks, they understood. The thing missing is actually very simple, that is, the partner who silently accompanied them to win one victory after another, that old friend full of mottled bullet marks, that is the Panther tank.

This is a habit that is tempered before life and death. This habit has penetrated into the bone marrow in just one month and has become a subconscious instinct. This is an indescribable feeling, like a brand that can't be undone in my mind.

Only the members of the chariot team can understand each other and explain it.

Bruce's hand holding the champagne rose and fell. Although it was only a light glass bottle, he never held it with one hand. Only Andre knew that it was his posture of holding the cannonball; although Andre was not old, Always hunched over his neck, only Ren knew that the height was exactly where the scope was. What Ren didn't know was that he always clenched the fist of his right hand subconsciously. If he was on the chariot, he needed to hold the armrest for balance.

And Bowman, and Clark, and Marcus... The war has marked everyone. It is like the wind blowing in the face, and it never opens its mouth but makes people feel its existence.

I finally know what's wrong. Fanny said while watching the soldiers sitting on the tanks and Hugo, a photographer who was deliberately sent by Arcador: Let's get their old military uniforms!

Hugo suddenly realized, yes, it is like adding a new frame to an old photo, and the feeling of vicissitudes disappears in an instant. These are not the honor guards who kicked in the square at the military parade. These are veterans who came to Berlin because of their extraordinary honors on the battlefield.

How to get honor on the battlefield? The easiest way is: kill, kill a lot of people! Kill more efficiently than others! Killing people with the highest efficiency more calmly than anyone else! These soldiers can be said to be the pride of the empire, or they can be said to be a group of murderous kings. Since he is the Demon King of Murder, he cannot easily change the temperament of the rest of his life. Any decoration will make this kind of aura extremely incongruous.

When Ren and others changed into their military uniforms that had not been washed, they seemed to have found their souls. Dusty black SS uniforms, collars worn thin by the throat communicator, white and salted belts soaked in sweat, and sleeves full of motor oil and Front - this is their soul, their temperament!

These tank soldiers who have changed their outfits climbed into the tanks, no longer cautiously afraid of scratching their new clothes, no longer bound by the brand-new armed belts. But it complements the dusty tank. It's been two days since they came to Berlin, and only now they are the Panzers, and only this moment they are the gods of war of the 3rd SS Panzer Division.

Wait for the award ceremony, you don't need to change their clothes. Fanny looked at these young or no longer young faces, and said to a few SS officers on the side: Let them go in like this.

Minister Fanny, how about doing this? All the imperial officials present, the head of state... An officer lowered his head and emphasized, I'm afraid it won't end well...

What are you afraid of? Afraid of getting dirty? These are the soldiers of our empire! They are not afraid of danger and face death calmly - they are the people in this empire who should drink red wine, eat sausages and walk the red carpet! Fanny glanced at the party beside her Guards officer: The Fuhrer is much wiser than you think! If he cares about the clothes of these outstanding soldiers, he is not the man I fell in love with.

Gu Dong swallowed his saliva, and the SS officer stood at attention and nodded: I understand, Minister Fanny, I'll make arrangements now.

Arrangement? Arrangement for what? Just let them walk in like this! Fanny smiled: If something goes wrong, it's mine!

Yes! The officer had no choice but to stop talking.

It was a familiar music and a familiar venue. Akado was walking on the thick red carpet, but he was thinking of the distant western battlefield. He was promoted to the first field marshal of the Third Reich here a few days ago, and today he will be here to award other elites the medals they deserve.

Along the way, he heard the officials who arrived first talking, and he wondered what was going on, but when he saw the soldiers from the front who were standing in a row waiting for him to hang their medals, he finally thought about it. I know why.

He sorted out the SS uniform he was wearing, then smiled and glanced at Reinhard Heydrich who was following behind him: I am very satisfied with the soldiers you chose for the Reich! I hope you can continue to serve the Reich. Send these great people.”

After all, he strode forward and came to Ren and others, and the venue suddenly fell silent, because after all, everyone had to save some face for the head of the empire.

Your clothes are incompatible with today's venue. Arcador said with a smile, standing in front of these soldiers: There are brand new utensils and bright red carpets everywhere. And you are wearing dirty clothes brought back from the battlefield.

He reached out and helped Ren brush the wrinkled epaulettes on his shoulders, bringing up tiny dust under the bright light. All the officials and guests held their breaths and seemed to be waiting for Arkado to get angry, but they waited for another remark from Arkado: Fortunately, you are incompatible with this place.

If those of us go to the battlefield, our heads may be shattered by bullets in a few minutes. Arkado pointed to his head and said, And you are the excellent soldiers who can bring back victory on the battlefield.

He looked around the venue, with majesty and oppression in his eyes, making the officials who were talking about embarrassed to avoid their eyes: Don't dislike the dust on these soldiers! Don't care about their filth! These people are for the German people. Fighting the enemy bravely on the battlefield! It is because of these people who are loyal to the faith that I can have today. We can cheer and laugh here because Germany has them! You should give them the highest respect! Because they are the backbone of Germany !

The empire needs you! It needs more young people who are willing to give their lives for the motherland like you! But I need you to come back from the battlefield alive! Live! Live well! Share the victory with us people! Arkado shot again Patting Ren's arm, he put down his arm: If necessary, all the people in this room will give their lives for the rise of the empire.

Salute to the heroes! An old man dressed in aristocratic clothing was the first to speak, and it seemed that he was the most prestigious here besides the head of state.

Mr. Augustus is right! Salute to the heroes! All the officers raised their glasses, and the atmosphere became lively. It seemed that everyone in this room would give their lives for the empire.

Gentlemen. For Germany! Akado raised his arms and gave a German salute. With a bang, everyone raised their arms: Long live the head of state!

Long live the head of state! A group of soldiers waiting to be decorated by Akado also raised their arms.

The military music sounded again, and the battle song of the armored soldiers reverberated over the hall. As the head of the empire, Akado hung the Iron Cross on the chests of these people one by one. And Ren, replaced the Iron Cross and put on the enviable Knight Iron Cross.

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