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Country, March 1966.!

"Captain, didn't you say we could get to the supply station on the third day...?" The face of the filling hand appeared in front of Tacott.

"Uh...what day is it now?" Tacott reluctantly opened his eyes, feeling like a layer of stuff on his face was covered with.

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Heavy and tired.

"Now... it's the fourth day?" Simon tilted his head and glanced at Otto, who nodded gloomyly.

Tacott took out the map from his hand and looked at it. "Okay, kids." Tacott announced loudly: "We're completely lost!"

Simon lowered his head in frustration and sighed, "I knew it would be like this...". Otto habitually shrank his cheeks into his mouth.

"Simon, come here."

"How much oil is left in the tank?"

"It's only three days... Maybe..." Simon's expression was a little dazed.

"Are you sure we didn't pass by here yesterday? How far is we from this village?" Tacott pointed to the map and looked at the young man.

"I, I don't know... there were white everywhere yesterday, and I don't remember what village we passed by..." Simon looked at Tacott in embarrassment.

"No, look here, did we walk through this fork the day before yesterday? What... That is... to say we are not on this road at all?" Tacott threw down the map in annoyed manner, but when Tacott looked up, from the hatch, what Tacott saw was the endless white outside.

"Damn it! Don't call me sir!" Tacott smashed the steel on the top of his head with his hand.

"It's okay, Simon... It's okay, it's not your fault. You go and eat something." Tacott returned to his usual calmness, although he was nervous than everyone else.

"Captain..." Otto suddenly raised his voice, and Simon stopped and looked at him: "We have nothing to eat."

Tacott's fist was clenched into a hammer, but he deliberately did not let the soldiers see it. However, they were already in a desperate situation, a real desperate situation.

"It seems we have to find someone to ask for directions..." Tacott was almost saying in a tone of "Ha! Fuck it!", but he finally restrained it.

"Ask the way?" Simon and Otto looked at each other: "None of us can speak Russian? How do you ask us for directions!"

Otto sneered sarcastically: "Hmph... Ask for directions? Everyone living nearby is full of snowmen...."

"Yes! I just seemed to see a haystack there-at least it looked like a haystack..." Simon put his eyes on the cannon leader's scope and pointed excitedly in front of him.

Tacott pulled out his pistol from his waist: "We don't need Russian, I have this!"

Tacott's eyes must have flashed with the evil Simon's smirk and surprise that he could not perceive.

"We still need Russian - if you want to ask for directions? Lieutenant." Lieutenant Jayne's voice came from behind. Obviously, he was right.

"Lt. Jayne, do you speak Russian?" Tacott asked

"Yes." He sat up barely: "I know a little. I've learned from prisoners of war."

"That's great, Lieutenant, can you walk?"

"I think it's OK, but you'd better get involved with me... Oh! Damn!" Jayne tried to stand up with difficulty, and he waved his right arm without his hand and hit the roof of the car.

"Bill, Otto, you two stay in the car. Be careful - I mean guerrillas. Simon, you are mixed with lieutenant. Let's go and ask the Russians and see what's going on with the meal." Tacott opened the hatch and prepared to drill out, a large pile of snow fell from the sky, covering his face

The wind slammed the snow on the face, but it still hurts very much.

When he arrived at the place where the Russians lived, the door was knocked open. Crying sounds came from the wooden house. An old Russian man with bearded face fell in a pool of blood, and the rest of his family fell on the body.

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A hysterical cry came.

"Let's go!" Jayne said in Russian and kicked the Russian boy.

The boy was not old, maybe younger than Simon. He carried the basket and turned around and stared at Jayne angrily.

Yes, Russian-like hatred.

He should be the grandson of the dead old man.

"Hold it." Tacott handed Lieutenant Jayne's pistol to Simon: "Did you see it?" Tacott pointed to the eyes of the Russian boy in front of him: "This is the look of hatred. If you want to eliminate hatred... Simon, the only way is to eliminate hatred."

Tacott stared at Simon's eyes seriously. Tacott knew that he was reluctant, and Tacott knew even more that the remaining mercy in his heart caused him to suffer every day.

"I'm helping you, kid." Tacott put the gun into his hand, and he didn't push it.

"Remember: This is the battlefield. Now is an extraordinary period."

Simon was slow! Nodded.

"Go in now. Don't leave any one. There are enough bullets inside." Tacott turned his back to him, and took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth.

Simon opened the door and walked in.

In the chimney on the wooden roof, a wisp of gray smoke still rose. It was the fire used by the Russians to keep warm. If we did not show up, the family should be sitting around the fire and waiting for the women to prepare dinner.

Tacott sent the cigarette into Lieutenant Jayne's mouth and then teased the Russian boy with him. Finally, we also gave the boy a cigarette, which he held in his mouth! It was not refused. Tacott even set fire for him personally and said in German: "Please, sir." Then Tacott and Jayne smiled while admiring the smoking boy. The boy coughed, and Tacott had to admit that Tacott was happy that the food found from the Russian farmer's home and the child would solve all the difficulties they faced.

As they did this, gunfire, cry, and shouts came from the wooden house behind them. Finally, everything became quiet, the door was gently opened, and Simon walked out.

Tacott snatched the pistol, opened the magazine, and found that there were still a few bullets left. Tacott stared at Simon's eyes, and the young man just stared blankly at the front without saying a word.

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On both sides are pine trees covered with white snow. The surging snowfall blurs the boundary between the road and the woods.

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The Russian boy looked at the pine trees around him and found that some of them were even broken by the combined force of the wind and snow.

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Only a sharp stump was left standing there. He had never seen such a huge force of cold.

A thick rope was tied to the waist of the Russian boy.

The thick rope was tied with a dead knot. The rope was pulled straight by the boy's body. A German assault gun was tied to the other end of it.

"Sir—this is wrong—I mean: something is wrong.” Simon observed the Russian boy who had been pulling the rope for a long time from Otto's scope: "He is taking us to death. He is going around in circles—can be seen!"

"He's a good kid..." Tacott wanted to take a nap in the seat, but was still awakened: "The whole family is dead... He didn't say anything... Can he not be a good kid!"

"Sir! Isn't that even more unreliable!"

The tank was moving slowly along the direction guided by the boy's rope.

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"Idiot." Otto leaned against the iron shell of the chariot in the seat and raised his gloomy face: "He wants to live too. Simon, stop quarrel with the captain, use your brain," the cannon leader pointed at his bald head: "Let's tie him to the front and lead the way. If he doesn't take us to the airport, he will starve to death."
To be continued...