Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

Vasilevsky saw the German special forces for the first time.

These people had camouflage oil on their faces, and were wearing combat uniforms that were different from the German uniforms. They were wearing tactical vests that he had never seen before, and the firearms in their hands were also unprecedented. The most important thing is that the aura exuded by these people tells them that each of them is an elite who has been on the battlefield and has experienced hundreds of battles. To be more precise, they are the elite among the elite.

The leading commander said hello in proficient Russian. "Your Excellency, Commander Vasilevsky, I have heard of you for a long time. Are you planning to commit suicide or surrender?"

"..." Commander Vasilevsky's right hand indeed held a loaded pistol. As long as he wanted to, he could end his life at any time, and no one could stop him. But I heard the commander talking to himself. "That's great if you want to surrender. If you want to commit suicide, then everyone here will be buried with you. Anyway, without this chain of command, the soldiers outside can't hold on for long. So, don't think that we are here to capture you alive, no matter what Whether you live or die, our mission has been successfully completed. Okay, we have to leave quickly. Don't waste our time. We only give you ten seconds to think about it. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six …”

Hearing that the other party was going to kill everyone here, Commander Vasilevsky's face became a little ugly. He didn't think the other party was joking with him, and as the other party said, once this command system is destroyed, the soldiers outside will They will become a group of headless flies; they will also lose their lives in vain.

After hesitating for a few seconds, Commander Vasilevsky put the pistol on his desk. "Okay, I surrender." After saying these words, the whole person seemed to have aged more than ten years in an instant.

The German commander smiled slightly. "What a wise decision. Then please, Commander, order the remaining soldiers to put down their weapons and stop resisting."

The successive surrenders of Smolensk and Stalingrad made General Ewald von Kleist, who was responsible for the attack on Leningrad, a little anxious.

Three cities launched their offensive at the same time, but he was the only one lagging behind!

"These bastards can really hold on." Looking at Leningrad on the map, two-thirds of which had been captured by his own side, General Kleist complained depressedly. Day and night air, ground, and sea bombings have almost reduced Leningrad to rubble. The entire city can no longer be called a city. It should be more appropriately called a ruin. And as far as he knew, the city had already run out of food and was in a desperate situation. But these defenders have no intention of surrendering. Is it just because this is Leningrad? Do they really want to fight to the end?

At this time, on a ruins in the city, a black gun muzzle was aiming into the distance. Everything from the gun body to the scope is wrapped in rags, and the sniper is also covered with a camouflage cloak sewn from rags, which blends in perfectly with the surroundings. If you don't look carefully, no one can tell that there is a sniper lying here.

He just stayed still, waiting quietly, waiting for the big fish to take the bait.

Finally, he found his prey. A head peeked out from the far corner, glanced this way, and immediately retracted. The whole process only lasted a few tenths of a second; it was obvious that the other party was quite alert.

A few seconds later, the head popped out again, but this time it didn't retract in a hurry and looked around.

However, the sniper was not in a hurry to shoot. At this distance, aiming at a head was not a good choice; he waited patiently. According to past experience, it would not take long for the opponent to rush out and run to the opposite side. That was the time to fire. All he had to do before was wait patiently.

Sure enough, after a while, the other party suddenly rushed out with a vigorous stride and quickly ran to the wall on the other side, trying to pass through this dangerous neighborhood.

"Bang!" Mosin-Nagant's gunshot rang out, and the other party took two steps forward and fell in the middle of the road.

"It's a Spaniard." Through the scope, he saw the soldier in Spanish uniform struggling to climb back, but after several attempts, he could only move one meter away. The Soviet sniper moved his arm slightly, pulled the bolt and loaded the bullet. He pressed the crosshair of his sight on the struggling Spanish soldier and pulled his trigger again.

"Bang!" There was another gunshot, and the bullet penetrated the Spanish soldier's body, splashing blood drops in all directions. The Spanish soldier twitched and then stopped moving. The gun butt that stretched out from the corner of the wall where he ran out for him to grab also retracted.

The sniper began to move his body slowly, crawling backward little by little.

But before he could move more than ten centimeters, he felt a sharp pain in his right arm, and the sniper couldn't help but let out a scream.

Hearing his screams, urgent sounds came from not far away. "Father, you were shot?!"

"Okinets, don't move!" the sniper shouted softly, clenched his teeth and remained motionless, lying on the ground pretending to be dead, hoping to deceive the opponent's sniper.

After waiting for more than ten minutes, there was no movement. He carefully moved his body again, but the next second there was a sharp pain in his right calf, making him scream again.

Then, another bullet penetrated his left calf. "This damn bastard!" He already fully understood that the other party was a very powerful sniper and a very cruel bastard. It was able to hit his arm and calf, but not one shot killed him. Do you just want to watch him struggle in pain?

"Father!" Okinets, who was not far away, finally couldn't bear it anymore and ran over desperately to take his father away.

"No!" the sniper shouted, and just as he was about to tell his son to leave quickly, a cloud of blood mist burst out from the chest of the son who ran up to him, and he collapsed beside him helplessly. "No! Okinets!!" Seeing the last bit of anger disappearing from his son's eyes, the sniper cried out in grief.

"Isn't that a bit cruel?" On a building 600 meters away, an observer with a high-power telescope frowned slightly as he looked at the Soviet sniper crying heartbrokenly in the distance. My partner's marksmanship is pretty good. He can hit wherever he wants from a distance of 600 meters, but he's just a little too cruel. Almost none of his targets were killed with one shot.

"What's so cruel?" the sniper said disapprovingly. "Haven't you heard that 'kindness to the enemy is cruelty to oneself'? On the contrary, 'cruelty to the enemy is kindness to oneself'."

Not only is he good at shooting, but he's also quite capable of making excuses. "Won't you kill him?"

The sniper shook his head. "Since they are all useless, there is no need to waste bullets."

"Are you still afraid of wasting bullets?" The observer couldn't help rolling his eyes. If you really cherish bullets so much, why not kill them with one shot?