Imperial Overlord

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A clean tablecloth lay on the neat desk. Next to the teacup, there is a groma brand typewriter, and a pair of dexterous and slender hands are constantly typing on the keyboard of the typewriter.

Typewriters in the 1940s were as complex as pianos, with mechanical transmissions and many parts.

More than 100 complex mechanical levers are tapped on the keyboard with the fingertips, hitting the typing paper, leaving regular character imprints.

The young female soldier in the SS uniform took off the document from the printer after hitting the last period, put it in the wooden mesh basket with the paper beside him, then took the water cup beside him and took a sip .

She carefully closed the lid of the cup, and then took out a piece of white paper and stuffed it on the typewriter that was no longer brand new.

Close to her, she skillfully took out a document from the stack of documents on the side, and put it in a place where you could see it with a slight squint.

Then, after turning the **** of the typewriter, she looked at a notebook full of adjectives in front of her.

"Click! Click!" With the crisp sound, she began to write quickly again, one character after another appeared on the white paper stuck in the printer with fluent tapping.

"Dear Madam: Your son Hoffman was very heroic on the front line. He did his duty as a soldier for the Führer and fought the enemy to the last moment. I would like to express the country's concern for you with this letter, and God bless you …”

While typing on her keyboard, she used the words recorded in the notebook in front of her to describe a man she had never seen before.

Maybe this soldier named Hoffman is a humble and insignificant ordinary soldier. But under her description, a great hero was born like this.

This unknown foot Hoffman soldier may have just been killed by an enemy shell on the front line on the march, or he may have just huddled humbly in the attacking crater, blown into a sieve by the enemy's grenade.

But he died, fought for this country. All this becomes less important.

Every soldier goes to the front line for our country, so when they lose their life for this country, they are heroes of this country.

It is also an important job to praise such heroes. The daily job of this female soldier is to write such letters and send them to every family.

This is probably one of the most glorious letters of the Third Reich, each inscribed with the marshal's name.

This may also be a letter that every family in this world is unwilling to receive, because when this letter appears at the door of the house, it means that the child's father or the father's son will never come back.

The officers in charge of delivering the letter are all high-ranking lieutenant colonels. They will stand at the door and salute solemnly, and then distribute a national flag to hang at the door.

Families flying such a flag will receive special care from the SS and the police, no one will make trouble, and conscripts will not disturb families with records of fallen soldiers.

With her constant tapping, a decent letter appeared in front of her eyes. Most of the letter consisted of arbitrarily chosen adjective phrases, and she wrote it without a trace of emotion.

When she was just doing this job, she would cry, because when she wrote these letters, she seemed to be able to see a fresh life fighting bravely for the country.

But as time passed, such a picture no longer appeared in her mind. She tapped the mechanical keyboard numbly, making a clicking sound.

And those lives that were once fresh, with the passage of time and the numbness of the mind, will forever pass away at her fingertips.

"Cha!" At the end of the writing, she tore off the letter that had been written on the printer, and put it on top of the letter that was written just now.

A female officer in her forties walked past the female soldier's desk, took away the printed letter, compared the death report, and left without looking back.

It is said that it is a letter, and it is sent after someone has specially checked it, and it is not the same channel as mailing a letter. So no envelopes, no addresses.

Just in front of the female soldier who was printing the letter was another female soldier who was typing fast, and she was doing the same job.

While she was drinking water, the female soldiers in front were still working hard. The opponent's fingertips were equally fast, and the sound of the typewriter was equally crisp:

"Dear lady: Your son Scart was fearless in his battles on the front lines, he was one of the best soldiers under my command when he attacked the enemy's positions. I deeply regret his death, he was A good soldier of the Führer is a good example for the people..."

Farther away, there are the same people doing the same jobs, and most people here are doing the same jobs every day after going to work.

"Dear lady: Bowman was killed today on the Eastern Front. Because of his brave battle, our army took the enemy's position and won another great victory. Your son is the bravest soldier I have ever seen, he His death is a great loss to the nation..."

Every day, they type dozens of letters on their typewriters. Today they use words such as bravery, bravery and fearlessness, and tomorrow they deliberately change to words such as agility, wisdom and struggle.

Anyway, everyone try to use their own words randomly~www.wuxiaspot.com~ try to make the letter look more natural and more comfortable.

The female soldier skillfully drew out another list of the dead, looked at the names on it, and then began to skillfully repeat the actions she just repeated.

She has repeated the action countless times, and she has to repeat it countless times every day, clamp the paper, and then refer to the adjective to write an emotionless letter:

"Dear lady: I ​​regret to inform you that your son Brian died. He fought bravely against the enemy, but unfortunately was shot and killed. He was a good soldier, and has always been a respected man... "

Next to this workshop is another workshop, where female soldiers sort all kinds of letters and file each letter to where it should go.

"Munich's..." Seeing the address in the letter, a written letter was stuffed into the classified area of ​​Munich City.

When recruiting, every soldier has the statistics of identity, so when they are killed, it is very easy to check the original address and various resumes after joining the army. Reading, a better reading experience.