Steel Soviet Union

Malashenko just waved his hand mercilessly, and the handful of photos in his hand instantly fell like snowflakes, spreading all over the floor for an unobstructed view.

"I really have to thank that German guy. If it hadn't been for him, you, a bastard, would have kept your true identity a secret from me for who knows how long!"

The photos that fell to the ground reflected clear black and white images. Although each photo was taken on a different date, time, and location, no one could tell clearly where each photo was taken.

But there is one thing that appears in every photo and is the same, that is, the corpses hanging on the gallows, in different numbers, men and women, and ages, but all unwilling to die, and Two pure fucking bastards: Stauffen and Walensky, arrogant and pretentious in front of the camera, as if they had done something big and terrible.

"You can say that you were forced by the Germans to wear this dog skin, but now do you want to explain the human head you are holding in your hand, the noose you are holding tightly, and the smiling expression on your face? What's going on? Don't tell me it's the Germans who forced you to do it again. You'd better change your excuse. Didn't your master teach you that you should use a different reason every time you lie? "

"This, these this"

Walensky, who was slumped on the ground, stared blankly at the photos spread out and scattered everywhere in front of him. His face gradually began to twist and he was speechless and hesitant in astonishment.

Malashenko was still waiting, wanting to see how far this bitch could lie, but what happened next made Malashenko a bit disappointed.

"Comrade Commander, this traitor peed his pants and became incontinent."

A faint smell of urine came out of his crotch and was blown away by the cold wind, filling the air and instantly dissipating. The cold snow covering the permafrost melted instantly when encountering the warm liquid, and everything was as disgusting as the unsightly color and stinky smell.

"Fuck! I thought this idiot was so capable, but he's just a fucking loser who only knows how to talk and deceive people!"

Traitors are found everywhere in the world, in every corner and everywhere human beings touch. Where there are people, there are bound to be traitors, it can indeed be said, but there are different types of traitors.

In the eyes of Malashenko at this moment, the unbearable Walensky has obviously been classified as the "most useless" traitor. A traitor with some skills can still arouse people's interest, but he, or rather this piece of shit, is just a piece of garbage that can even be used to wipe his anus in the toilet.

"Get this bastard away, call all the remaining villagers in the village to witness, and prepare to execute him by firing squad, immediately!"

Malashenko, who silently cursed in his mind, raised his hand and gave orders to the Red Army soldiers who were waiting around him. There was no hesitation in his voice from beginning to end.

"Yes, Comrade Commander!"

"Stand up, you damn traitor! Today is the end of you, go away!"

The five-year-old warrior with arms as thick as a little girl's thigh showed no mercy at all. He either hit his face with the butt of his rifle or punched, kicked and pushed Walensky forward with curses all the way.

And what about Walensky?

This dead dog that once worked for the SS was now so frightened that it lost its soul. Those photos were like some legendary monsters that could take away people's souls. Walensky saw those things At the first sight, I was so frightened that my mind went blank and my soul was out of control.

He couldn't figure out where Malashenko got these things. Aren't they all the "private collection" of his master Staufen?

Everything he once did for the sake of being popular and trying to build relationships with others has now become the ironclad evidence that will eventually bury his own life.

Perhaps the greatest irony in life is this. Those things that once gave you glory and everything you needed in the past suddenly come back and take away all the rest of your life.

Walensky, who was being pushed forward with shaky steps, couldn't help but wonder, if he hadn't done such a thing in the first place? Wouldn't he have ended up like this today?

Thinking about it, it wasn't right. If he hadn't done this in the first place, how could Staufen, who was so cruel and disgusting to himself, have let him go?

Does Stauffen want his hands to be stained with blood so that he can tighten the leash and strengthen his control? To completely cut off all avenues for betraying him? Walensky is very special about this. understandable.

If I didn't work so hard, I might have died a long time ago? But the consequences of doing such bad things are still inevitable.

After all, it is just to enjoy a few more days of glory, wealth and superiority? It is just to slightly enhance the fleeting life experience.

Two Red Army soldiers held their shoulders and escorted them to a large open space. When he raised his head, Walensky could see that he was surrounded by people who had not had time to escape, or who had no way to escape or leave. This small shabby house will cause the villagers outside to die like rootless duckweeds.

What were the expressions on those people's faces?

Walensky, who squinted his eyes for a while, thought: These expressions cannot all be generalized.

Some people's faces are angry, some are smiling, but more people's faces are indifferent, or numb, like facial nerve necrosis, unable to make any expressions.

Walensky remember? It wasn't like this when the Krauts first came.

He had also been to this village at that time. Villagers with phantom German soldiers stood on both sides of the village path? A scene of joy and laughter. The young girls even gave a red-faced and somewhat embarrassed German boy a kiss on his neck. Hanging a garland? The invaders do look like liberators at this time.

But it didn't take long for those German guys to change this place from "German fans" to "Soviet fans", or rather not Soviet fans, but they just wanted to copy the guys and fuck the German sticks! The guerrillas are like weeds, mowing [Biqudao] one crop after another, and they can never be killed.

Walensky had never considered the reason for this before, but now after seeing the numb and speechless faces, Walensky suddenly understood: It turns out that all this is happening now. Did he help the Germans to do this? No one was willing to stand up and speak for himself.

"Get ready! Raise your gun!"

Swish swish swish——

The sound of pulling the bolt and loading the bullet interprets for whom the death knell tolls. The entire row of Mosin-Nagant rifles was instantly raised? The cold muzzles of the guns shimmered under the winter sun, which was breathtaking. Looking at everything in front of me Walensky thought of one last thing.

Since he was bound to die sooner or later, maybe he shouldn't have sold the small company commander in the first place. Wouldn't it be better to die on the way to the charge? At least in the future, people will remember themselves in a different way, instead of on the cold pillar of shame. Compared with this, the extra two or three years of life seems to be nothing more worthy of nostalgia.

Thinking of this, Walensky, who had given up everything and figured out his life, raised his hands and stood at attention in a military salute. The last words to grab the time blurted out in a loud roar.

"Long live the great Soviet! Long live the Motherland"

Bang bang bang——

It's a pity that everything that could be said in the future has already disappeared into the nothingness of gunshots.