After leaving the slightly dry fortress, Captain Valentin took Wei Ran to visit his position.
Speaking of which, this is not a real company, or a complete company. After the round of shelling just now, the entire company only has less than 70 people with combat effectiveness, but it is responsible for a trench with a length of more than 150 meters.
.
These more than sixty people are more like a microcosm of the Soviet Union. There are city dwellers from Moscow, farmers from the countryside of Ukraine or Belarus, and herdsmen from several later Stans. There are even two Jews and a slave.
A dedicated skier.
In this company with a diverse but incomplete structure, everyone is extremely enthusiastic. They even try to look as clean as possible, intentionally or unintentionally, and then appear in front of Wei Ran intentionally or unintentionally, looking expectantly.
Looking at Wei Ran's camera hanging around his neck.
And Wei Ran, like a real reporter, tried his best to chat with everyone about their past, or take photos of them.
However, he only had two rolls of film in total, and one of them had taken a few photos before he came here, so he was destined to be unable to take a single photo of everyone. At the same time, he also had to take a photo of the person who had not yet taken a photo.
Daniella, who I met, left a few negatives.
Moreover, in order to avoid being wiped out by a single artillery shell from the Germans on the opposite side, neither he nor Company Commander Valentin could organize everyone together to take a group photo.
However, this little regret did not last long, and was solved by a young soldier from Moscow. This young soldier, who looked to be only twenty-four or five years old at most, actually sent five or six unused items to Weiran.
Used film!
"Where did you get it?"
Wei Ran asked in surprise, this soldier named Tonya had just been interviewed by him not long ago. He was a fair-looking young man, but the soldiers around him unanimously called him an artist.
As for the reason, of course Tonya not only sings well, but can also play many kinds of musical instruments, and even learns ballet, and can use a piece of charcoal to sketch the surrounding comrades on the table.
"I brought it with me when I went to war."
Tonya explained with a sunny smile on her face, "I also brought a camera at that time, which was the same brand as the one you used, but two months ago, that camera helped me block a bullet.
It's already broken, and only these films remain. Since you don't have enough film, go ahead and use it."
"Would you like to lend me my camera?" Wei Ran said, taking off the camera hanging around his neck and handing it to him.
"no, I'm fine"
Tonya quickly waved her hand, "I just want to take photos of my comrades, so I'll let you take them. You must be better than me."
"Then I'm not welcome."
Wei Ran looked at the red window on the camera, raised his head and said, "Tonya, let me take a picture of you first!"
"Please wait!"
Tonya looked around and replied, "I need to ask Vinia to help me shave first, and I also need to borrow a clean coat to match my bravery medal."
"It's okay, I'll wait for you over there." Wei Ran pointed to a few soldiers who were knocking not far away and said.
"I'll be back soon!" Before she finished speaking, Tonya ran along the muddy trench and disappeared.
Putting away the film presented by the other party, Wei Ran walked to the soldiers not far away. These soldiers were making bonfire stoves using milk cans and iron oil drums. Those that had already been made not far away were also lit.
When the fire was lit, some soldiers were sitting on the logs next to the stove, patiently baking the smelly foot bindings and the wrinkled and pale feet soaked in mud and water.
Next to these biological and chemical weapons, there was an iron pot on a simple campfire stove, with potatoes the size of eggs being cooked in it.
A little further away, there were several soldiers washing pairs of German military boots stained with blood in large basins transformed from oil drums.
Seeing Wei Ran approaching, the soldiers all saluted with attention. Some wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it, while others secretly arranged their damp military uniforms. Wei Ran shook his head secretly.
He shook his head, knowing that he was being praised too highly by Valentin.
"What are you doing?"
Wei Ran sat at the edge of a stove without saying anything. He also untied his leggings, took off his damp boots, took off the soaked foot bindings, followed their example, and leaned towards the stove.
Bake slowly on the sides.
"Toast the foot wraps." A young soldier dryly answered Wei Ran's nonsense question with an obvious answer.
"Well...you don't have to do this"
Wei Ran grinned, "I am a soldier just like you. When necessary, I will pick up a gun and fight with you. Of course, of course, I will take a photo of each of you later.
I promise everyone in this company."
"real?"
The soldier who had just answered Wei Ran's question asked in surprise, "Comrade reporter, can you help me send the photos home then? My home is in Tula City..."
"And mine!"
A man who looked to be in his forties or fifties came over and said, "Comrade reporter, help me send the photos home! I haven't received a letter from home for more than half a year, and I want my son and wife to know
I am still alive, my family is in Stalingrad..."
"Where is your home? Stalingrad?!"
Wei Ran frowned. In September 1942, in addition to Rzhev devouring soldiers from both sides like a meat grinder, Stalingrad at this time was also a bottomless millstone of flesh and blood!
"Yes! Stalingrad!"
The middle-aged man sighed and said in a desperate tone, "I know Stalingrad is also fighting, but I believe they must still be alive!"
"They are definitely still alive," Wei Ran said with certainty, "They are definitely still alive."
"I guess they must still be alive."
The middle-aged man took out a sealed vodka glass bottle from his bag, pointed to the black and white photo inside and said, "Look, this is my wife Vitasha, and that young man is our son Ivan.
He went to work as an apprentice at the Stalingrad Tractor Factory six months ago. The vodka in this bottle was bought for me with his first salary. Although we drank the wine, this bottle, I must
I'll take it back and refill it with vodka."
Wei Ran opened his mouth and said in an increasingly sure tone, "After the war is over, we must let this young man spend one month's salary to buy enough vodka and treat us all to a drink!"
"No problem! Of course no problem!"
The middle-aged soldier wrapped the wine bottle containing a family photo with a piece of clothing sleeve that seemed to have been pulled from a German and put it back in his pocket. He said generously, "You must visit my house when the time comes. I will let me
My son gave you half a year’s salary to treat you to drinks of vodka, which is available in unlimited quantities just like water!”
"If I can have a sip of vodka now, even if I have to work for a whole year to pay off my debt, I won't have any problem."
A soldier who was cleaning the German boots with a large brush joked, "Of course, that job can no longer be like cleaning the boots taken from the corpses of Germans. I even doubt that the Germans used horse urine to wash their feet."
Yes, my nose almost feels like athlete's foot."
"It's safer to clean your boots than to take them off on the battlefield."
Another soldier whose name Wei Ran had not yet had time to ask said, "Do you have any clean boots? Let our journalist comrades choose a pair of suitable size. I think everyone will have no objection."
"As long as he can take a photo of me later and send it home when he has the opportunity, I don't have any problem even if I go to the Germans outside the trenches to borrow a pair now!"
Amid the laughter and teasing of the crowd, Wei Ran was dumbfounded when he received the first gift he received, a pair of boots issued by the German Motorized Forces in World War II.
Before he could dry the wet boots, Tonya, who had the title of "artist", also came over wearing a clean coat, with the only medal pinned to his chest.
Putting the boots aside, Wei Ran quickly picked up the camera and took a photo of Tonya's bare feet. Then he waited patiently for the other soldiers to put on the clean coats and pin on their own.
Medals, almost lined up to stand in front of the camera.
At the same time, Tonya also took the plastic notebook handed to him by Wei Ran and carefully recorded the addresses of everyone who had taken photos.
Just waiting to finish taking pictures of these dozen people, the middle-aged soldier whose home is in Stalingrad said, "Artist, sing a song for us!"
"Yes! Sing a song!" the soldiers around encouraged him.
"How about singing "Holy War"?" Tonya asked, clearing her throat.
"This shitty war has been tormenting us for months, so don't sing about it."
A young soldier muttered something under his breath, and then suggested, "Artist, sing a song about a textile girl, maybe any other girl will do."
"Yes! Let's sing a song about Textile Girl!" The others agreed unanimously.
"Then weaving girl!" Tonya cleared her throat again, stood on a wooden box and started singing.
Gradually, all the busy soldiers around them temporarily stopped what they were doing and looked over. There were even a few who used the things they could find in their hands to knock on the things they could see around them and beat the time together.
Gradually, more and more soldiers were singing along, and the singing became louder and louder, even covering up the constant provocations and obscenities coming from the loudspeakers of the German positions opposite.
Gradually, the loudspeakers from the German position opposite also stopped, and this damp and bloody position seemed to have become the exclusive stage for Tonya's personal concert.
