Battle of the Rhine

"The Long Road to Diporelli" was originally a British song, but somehow it was not only loved by the British, but also by the Americans, and even by the Soviets, not least of course by the Germans.On the Western Front, a German SS leader made the song popular again: According to the lucky ones who escaped, the bastard drove a Jeep, his boots were polished, and he yelled triumphantly: "Here is far from Diporelli is far away, lads!"

Michael whistled and made the long walk to Diporelli, he didn't know where Diporelli was, but Piccadilly was famous, and if it weren't for the war, he might have just saved enough money for a boat ticket to London .Mary Jean always wanted to see the big world. She didn't even look down on New York, so she went to Paris and London. She envied those European women in beautiful slim trench coats and jewelry.

Quincy was banging on a piece of wood, his trousers hanging half-length at his ankles.Because of the heat, he unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a white shirt and two suspenders.It's hard to imagine that there are still men wearing this style of trousers these days, and you will never understand the persistence of the Germans in certain aspects.Michael held his gun, "Can you sing?"

"Do not."

Quincy occasionally spoke to him, "no," "yes," and "thanks."Michael learned to say "You're welcome" in German, and he felt that "Thank you" and "You're welcome" in German are a pair of similar brothers: "Thank you" - "You're welcome", listen, sonorous and powerful.He's even planning to learn a few more sentences if he can make that damn, vomit-like sound.

"You can sing, you can," Michael said. "There's nobody who can't."

"I don't sing."

"Sing, everyone is singing!"

As the battle draws to a close, everyone is beaming.Now depending on who gets into Berlin first, the Allies—the Americans, the Brits, the French—and the Soviets, every commander yells at his men: Run faster, run faster!

There were so many prisoners, it seemed like millions of Wehrmacht soldiers in field gray sprang up overnight.They ran west as fast as they could, and the Soviets didn't pay attention to your tricks. Tim said dismissively, "They shoot every one they catch, and send them to labor if they don't shoot them." Labor makes people free ',Ha ha!"

Michael heard some rumors that it seemed that the Allied forces had also sent German prisoners to the United States to work on farms. "If it's true, I'd like to take some captives," he said. "It's too much work, and I can have them fix the barn and feed the cows. I've wanted to renovate the house for a long time."

"Come on, you've got to pay them—that's a fake up there."

"Better than hired workers, the wages can be reduced by half."

Tim stopped cleaning his gun, "If you were asked to choose, you must choose that one."

His tone was a little strange, and Michael frowned, "What do you mean, brother?"

"It's not interesting, I'm not interesting." Tim grinned. "Forget it, man—I just thought...why don't you go find a girl and just talk."

"You take care of yourself," Michael said, Mary came a letter, complaining about the busy work, she was promoted, and became a small boss, "Aren't you going to get married? Your father promised to lend you money?"

"He ignored me, but I've thought about it, I'll propose first." Tim said happily, "It's just two days! I'm afraid that in a few days, Hitler will surrender, and I won't have time to get busy—"

"You've got to get a ring," put in "Big Girl," "and it's kind of a hassle to propose."

"I know," it's rare that Tim can talk calmly to "Big Girl", "I got a ring, but I didn't make a pair... At this point, I'll make do with it until I get back to America—" He never He took out a ring from his pocket, a beautiful ring with a small gemstone in it, which shone brightly in the light.

"Fuck! Where did you get the ring from?" "Big Girl" asked curiously, "The nearest store is the military commissary. The commissary now provides wedding ring services?"

"Don't worry about it." Tim pretended to be mysterious, "I always have a clever trick."

Speaking of the ring, Michael looked down at the one in his hand.He had run into the city to buy it, and the little jewel in the silver ring was just to Mary's liking.It's the most popular European style, she said. "Where did you get that?" he said, flattening his lips. "...Tim, isn't that bad?"

"What did you say?" Tim turned his head and his ears were red. "What's wrong with me?"

"Where did you get your ring?"

"Where the fuck did I get the ring from?"

"Big girl" is inexplicable, looking at Michael, looking at Tim.Michael and Tim enlisted at the same time and had a good relationship.They never quarrel, let alone touch hands. "It's just a ring," he tried to separate the two people who were staring at each other, "a ring—"

"Go back." Michael said, "The captain has said many times that the personal belongings of the captives cannot be snatched."

"Where did you get that Luger?" Tim retorted, "You stole it, so it's not considered a steal? Why should I return it?"

"I picked it up from the battlefield."

"I picked it up too."

"This is Quincy's ring," Michael grabbed Tim by the collar. "His ring is almost exactly the same as mine. Don't think I didn't see it."

"Oh, Quincy," Tim pushed Michael away, with a strange voice, "Mike's sweetheart, a college student—what, I take his ring, do you feel bad?"

"Okay, stop arguing," "Big Girl" squeezed between the two, "You two are so fucking sick, arguing over a broken ring?"

"I didn't argue with him," Tim straightened his collar. "You're not normal, Mike," he stepped back angrily. I fight! Fuck, Michael Fiennes, Fuck!"