German supremacy

Neumann Scheiber noticed a soldier named Vogel Lange early on.

Lange is a handsome young man, his hair is as golden as a wheat field, and his blue eyes are as clean and clear as the blue glass ball he picked up a few days ago.He reminded him of the violent and joyous summers he had had.Neumann liked men, and this handsome young man naturally caught his attention.

'My name is Vogel Lange. 25 years old, from Württemberg. '

Vogel Lange.He jotted down the man's name in his mind.He had always thought that this man was only 20 years old, and he was already 25. He thought, in fact, he was not young anymore.

As a soldier who is often on the front line, he became the instructor of this group of recruits.Lange was naturally included in this batch of recruits.

He quickly noticed something different about this man.

'What are you [1] doing? ’ he asked between practice sessions.

Lange looked up at him, 'I'm writing a letter to my mother. ' he said honestly, eyes as calm as water.

This is really not the look a soldier should have.

'What did you do before you were drafted? '

'me? ' He smiled unexpectedly, 'Actually, I don't do anything. '

'I'm not kidding you. '

'I'm not kidding you either! ' he said with a smile.

This is a really weird guy.He frowned, thinking, and his extraordinary politeness.

A month ago, they switched defenses 100 kilometers behind the line of fire and were transferred to the front line. The war situation here is not very serious.But just a week ago, the French stepped up their firepower and started regular surprise attacks.Their company immediately dropped from a team of more than 70 people to more than [-] people.

Before falling into a deep sleep, he vaguely saw Lange writing a letter—he was not dead, Neumann thought with some disdain, how could a person who always stays behind during a war die?And he was finally withdrawing, and when he could rest, he wrote a letter to his mother!

He sneered.

This stupid guy will die on the battlefield sooner or later, he thought coldly.

Lange looked up at him, met his contemptuous eyes, and he smiled—he was so pretty when he smiled, and even the plaster on his face couldn't hide it—'You must think I'm ridiculous, here's to my mother Write a letter instead of replenishing your energy and getting a good night's sleep for tomorrow's battle, right? ' His voice was calm and soothing, like a chaplain's prayer.Neumann didn't answer him, didn't listen to his answer - he fell asleep to Lange's voice, it didn't matter to him what Lange was thinking, he just wanted to sleep for a while and get the bowl tomorrow morning He went to the quartermaster to eat, as long as he could eat and sleep, he felt very satisfied.

He just felt ridiculous at Lange's innocence and stupidity.

Although his appearance is good, it is only a decoration after all.

If only I could sleep with him before he died.He thought with a little contempt, it should feel pretty good.