Struggle in Soviet Russia

The silky drizzle enveloped the entire Warren-Shepchenkovo ​​Forest. The not very dense but tall birch forest was washed by the rain. The white and green complemented each other like a gorgeous oil painting.

On the edge of the jungle, a foraging grizzly bear moved its fat butt, and rolled lazily on the grass full of alfalfa flowers. When he got up, his two round eyes were probed by a field mouse in the dirt hole. Attracted. The sturdy grizzly bear is obviously not interested in hunting a small vole, and the small voles are obviously not afraid of this giant sitting at their door. A bear and a mouse are close to each other. Look at each other.

"Bah!"

A dull gunshot shattered the silence of the jungle and the harmony between the bear and rat. The bird in the forest flew away, and the voles protruding in the hole swooped back to the ground. They disappeared, and the strong grizzly bears. There was an excitement, and with a muffled sound, he fled to the depths of the jungle while twisting his fat ass.

"Boom!"

There were two more gunshots. On the bank of a river less than a hundred meters away from the edge of the jungle, the last two corpses fell into the half-person high under the embankment in a dull plop on the ground, carrying a canopy of plasma. In the grass.

The unnamed weeds below the embankment are verdant and green, dotted with purple or white wild flowers. One or two butterflies are flying between the emerald green and purple and white. Also in this emerald grass, three old-clothed corpses fall down. Where. One of the corpses was facing upside down, his disheveled hair was lumped into a ball of blood, his muddy forehead had been crushed by the impact of bullets, his skull was raised from the eye sockets, and the red and white brain was cracked from the bone. Overflowing from the gap, wading across the cheeks of the dead, dripping onto the trembling blades of grass.

Above the embankment, Victor held a shriveled cigarette, stuffed the palm-sized sergeant record book into the breast pocket of a brown-green military uniform, and straightened a large brimmed military hat with a blue cloth hoop on his head. Then he turned and walked towards the black horse not far away, and jumped onto the horse's back.

"Comrade Victor Viktorovich," a corporal who was also wearing a brown-green military uniform with a gun on his back approached and asked loudly, "The remaining two guys have escaped into the Warren Forest. Do you want to chase it down?"

Victor shook the reins, pulled the horse and turned half a circle, facing the dense jungle not far away, raised the telescope on his chest, looked at it for a while, and said: "They can't run away. Now, let's go back to the camp. Otherwise, I will miss lunch again."

"Yes, Comrade Victor Viktorovich," the corporal responded, and blew the whistle in his hand.

Soon, more than two dozen soldiers who had gathered on the embankment got on their horses one after another, and a group of people whistled and galloped westward along the embankment.

The so-called "Warren-Shepchenkovo" forest is composed of two parts. "It refers to a jungle between Kopetchinchi and Chorkotev on this highland. In this jungle area, there is an ethnic minority settlement area called Shepchenkovo.

Shepchenkovo ​​is just a small town. To be precise, it is a small but very special town. The total population of the entire town is less than 30,000, including ethnic Russians, Ukrainians, Moldovans, Belarusians, etc. It is a small town with a small scale but complex residents. And the reason why it is special is because the people living in this small town, except for the soldiers and police, most of the residents are criminals. These people are exiled from Ukraine, Belarus, and southern Russia and work here. All kinds of reform labor to pay for their crimes.

Victor led more than twenty cavalry soldiers along the bank of the river for less than an hour, and there was a vast expanse of wheat fields in front of him. The vertical and horizontal terraces and the continuous green seedlings made people feel like they were in sight. Kind of refreshing feeling. This is the second collective farm of Shepchenkovo ​​Red Flag. After this farm, Shepchenkovo’s location is not far in front.

Driving past the farm, a simple asphalt road appeared in front of the farm. The road was very narrow and could only accommodate one truck. On both sides of the road, there was a huge poster frame made of logs.

On the poster on the left, there is an old woman wrinkled in traditional Ukrainian clothes. The old woman has a serious face. She is holding a notice in one hand with a letter to her son written on it. The general meaning is a request. The son was loyal to the motherland and the Soviets, fighting against separatists and Polish spies.

On the poster on the right, there is a silhouette image of a worker holding a hammer. The huge hammer is hitting a clown-like villain. On the background of the poster, there is a string of Russian letters: smash. All traitors!

At this time it was approaching noon. In addition to Victor and his team, there was an army of more than forty infantrymen on this simple small road. They were wearing brown-green uniforms. Look at the signs on the guide flag. This is a unit belonging to the 14th Infantry Division of the Tarnopol Border Guard.

Shepchenkovo ​​belongs to Tarnopol Oblast, which is right on the border with Poland-controlled West Ukraine, and Poland is an old enemy of the Soviet Union of Nations. During the civil war, foreign intervention against the new Soviet regime The army is led by the Poles. They not only control large areas of West Belarus and West Ukraine to this day, but also arrange for a large number of spies and guerrillas to enter the Ukrainian region to instigate rebellions and separatist movements in the region. In order to wipe out the insurgents and anti-government guerrillas active in the area, the People’s Committee of the Interior not only assigned a full three frontier guard infantry divisions in the area, but also arranged a division’s internal guards. Victor belongs to the internal guards. Of the troops.

Of course, it is impossible for such a huge force to be located in a small place like Shepchenkovo. In fact, the internal guards stationed in Shepchenkovo ​​have only one cavalry company. The platoon leader of the 3rd Cavalry Platoon of this cavalry company.

The small city Shepchenkovo ​​was built on a hill with a gentle slope. Under the western **** of the small city, there is the winding Transnistria. In such a place surrounded by mountains and rivers and densely covered with jungles, there should have been It’s a unique scenery, but the real situation can only make people feel disappointed. This small town made up of wooden shacks indiscriminately has no sense of beauty at all. For most of the prisoners living here , Here is a hell.

Riding on a sturdy black horse, Victor lazily entered this unplanned and messy town. The smell of urine in the air mixed with the pungent smell of leather tanning, filled it almost instantly. The nasal cavity is full, making the stomach sour, almost vomiting.

The people hiding under the dilapidated wooden huts watched this team of cavalry pacing by the sewage-draining road with fear, panic, or sluggish eyes, and they didn't dare to move at all. move.

For most people in the small town, these guys wearing high boots, blue pants, and brown-green military uniforms are the Yamas who can seduce them at any time. In the eyes of these Yamas, they are not only Only a prisoner, or a class enemy.

Victor has long been immune to these various gazes. For him, it is one of his tasks to make these people fear themselves. If one day these people do not fear him, then he will become one of these people. Member-Shepchenkovo's cruelty lies in this.

In fact, Shepchenkovo’s management is not very strict. The prisoners who are placed here enjoy the freedom that most people enjoy. They can move around in the city or even outside the city at will, and they can walk around the streets and house freely. Chatting and frolicking. But the special thing is that they must report to the Workers and Peasants Police Headquarters in the city every two days to prove that they did not escape. If there are no people who report on time within two days, the civilian police of the Civil Police Headquarters and the Cavalry of the Internal Forces will find them somewhere inside or outside the city and shoot them in the head.

In addition, 80% of their labor income in collective farms must be turned in, and the rest is their rations. They can also tanned leather in exchange for some food and medicine, and even daily necessities, but all Things that can be used for trading are often expensive. Therefore, in this small city with a population of 30,000, not only food and daily necessities are scarce, but medicines are also scarce. This is the cruelest part of the city.

The cavalry team walked through most of the town, and finally stopped on a loess-paved open space on the south side of the city. This is the location of the Civil Police Headquarters. The two-story building made of red brick and stone is Shepp. The headquarters of the Chenkovo ​​Workers and Peasants Police Headquarters. And the rows of wooden houses gathered near the small building are the garrison of the Cavalry Company of the Internal Forces.

Victor got off his horse on the lawn beside the empty court, and a girl with big braids behind her head and wearing a traditional Belarusian long dress immediately greeted her.

The girl's long dress no longer sees the original color, it is dirty tea gray. She walked over with the mud-stained skirt in both hands, reached out to pick up the horse rein in Victor's hand, and said timidly. : "Sir, I want to take a leave in the afternoon and go home to have a look, can you?"

Victor glanced at the girl. He didn't say yes or no. He looked at his horse from side to side, and stroked two of them on the long and powerful neck of the horse. Then he said, "After lunch, go back, before the sun sets. Come back."