Chapter 16: Allies

The night was deep. At the eastern and western ends of the crossroads, small bonfires appeared on the street, marking the division. The bonfire on the east side belonged to the Soviets, while the bonfire on the west side belonged to the Germans. As for the pitiful, lonely little flame in the middle of the intersection, it belonged to that somewhat comical Polish madman traffic officer.

This gaunt figure guarded a broken trolleybus. The small oil drum and fuel for the fire in front of him were provided by the Germans. The small pot on the oil drum, containing hollow tomato soup and black bread, was sent over by Viktor's orders.

Despite spitting at and cursing both the Russians and the Germans, neither side seemed to mind, and no one took him seriously. He also accepted the items sent by both sides without hesitation. Not only that, he even proactively asked the Germans for a bottle of alcohol and Viktor's side for a pack of cigarettes.

Overall, all three parties displayed enough gentlemanly manners, and there was no deep hatred between them.

Although the weather had been somewhat stuffy during the day, the temperature dropped sharply after nightfall. Under the moonless, starless night sky, it felt damp and cold, even by the bonfire.

By a burning wooden gasoline barrel, Viktor, wrapped in a brown-green blanket, recorded everything that had happened today in a small notebook by the firelight. These records were to be submitted for archiving later.

Not far away, a few Soviet soldiers sat arm in arm on a bombed stone slab, quietly listening to the harmonica music coming from across the street in the Germans' territory. In the distance, by another bonfire, a soldier without his steel helmet played an unknown tune on a harmonica.

The harmonica music had been playing for a while. When another tune ended and applause came from across the street, Viktor stopped writing. He closed the notebook and put it back in his jacket pocket. Then he said to Sophia, who was sitting opposite him, "Doesn't anyone want to dance? We can't let the Germans have all the performances."

Sophia was taken aback. She stared at him for a while before understanding his meaning. She put down her cup of water, stood up, and straightened the hem of her uniform, saying, "Alright, Lieutenant Viktor Viktorovich, I will organize a dance that will satisfy you."

The saying that partisans are artistic geniuses is true in some cases.

Under Sophia's arrangement, rhythmic wooden board clapping soon started on the east side of the street, mixed with men's low "yo" and "hey" responses. As this sound continued and the rhythm became faster, some Soviet soldiers put down their guns and started dancing to the rhythm, beginning with the high-difficulty Lezginka spins.

The atmosphere quickly heated up. There were more and more sounds of clapping wooden boards and oil barrels, more and more soldiers dancing, and more and more cheers and applause.

At some point, the harmonica music on the west side of the street stopped. A large number of German soldiers either stood by the roadside or climbed onto tanks, watching from afar. For the soldiers, whose lives were dull, even watching others dance was a rare entertainment.

Viktor was very satisfied with this effect. He was now representing the Soviet Red Army, and as the Red Army, they couldn't lose in anything.

"Lieutenant, look over there," Sophia had somehow returned to Viktor's side. She was half-squatting on the ground, speaking to Viktor.

Viktor looked at her somewhat puzzled, then followed the direction of her gaze. He saw a figure emerging from the German side, walking leisurely toward them.

The person coming over was the German commander who had been on the tank in the afternoon. However, he was now without his sunglasses, and not only that, he wasn't wearing his military cap either, and his uniform jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a white shirt underneath. In his left hand, he was carrying a bottle of wine, and in his right hand, a military lunchbox. Perhaps noticing Viktor looking at him, the German raised both hands and shook them to show he meant no harm.

Viktor stood up, waved a greeting, and then waited in place for the man to come over.

"Lieutenant Viktor, mind having a drink together?" When he got closer, the German commander shook the bottle of whiskey in his hand again and smiled. "I just opened this whiskey, and I've added some honey. Oh, and here's some ham. I don't know if it's to your Russian taste."

"Who would mind having a good drink with a friend?" Viktor stepped forward with a smile, took the lunchbox from the German's right hand with his left, and extended his right hand, smiling. "But before we drink, I should know your name."

"Ah, my apologies," the German replied gentlemanly, shaking Viktor's hand. "Hertsch Adenauer, a captain in the 14th Army Group of the Wehrmacht."

Captain Hertsch didn't mention his unit number, which was standard military discipline. As for the 14th Army Group, that was a vast range. From what Viktor knew, the German forces attacking Poland from the southern Czechoslovakian direction belonged to the 14th Army Group.

"Well, hello, Captain Hertsch. Nice to meet you," Viktor shook his hand and gave him a hug, smiling as he said, "Your Russian is excellent."

"I lived in Saint Petersburg for six years," Captain Hertsch said, looking around and finding a place to sit. "Oh, you now call that beautiful place Leningrad. Whatever the name, I love it there. I hope to go back one day."

"There will be a chance," Viktor smiled. But then he felt something was off. Telling a German officer he'd have a chance to go to Leningrad... that didn't quite sound right.

Sophia brought over three enamel mugs, divided the whiskey Captain Hertsch had brought, and gave Viktor one cup while keeping one for herself. Of course, besides the three drinks, she also brought some fruit and two cans of meat.

"I admire you, Lieutenant Viktor," Captain Hertsch said once Sophia had left. "You and your soldiers are brave warriors."

As Captain Hertsch spoke, his eyes casually scanned the surroundings.

"If I'm not mistaken, here in Lviv, the troops you can command are just the ones here, right?" he continued.

"Why do you say that?" Viktor asked curiously.

"Just a guess," Captain Hertsch said, raising his chin. He then lifted the hand holding the cup and pointed to the building on one side of the street. "You see, if I were you, to block the armored units coming from the opposite side of the street, the best way would definitely not be to set up such a simple defensive position on the street. I would place them there..."

He turned his body and pointed to the second floor of another building on the other side. "And there, set up two machine gun positions. These two positions can form intersecting fire, effectively blocking the infantry advancing from the opposite side of the street."

He then pointed to two positions by the shop windows on the street: "Place two anti-tank guns here."

He transferred the cup from his right hand to his left and then raised his right hand, palm open, gesturing toward the current German position. "This way, the tanks advancing from the lower part of the opposite street at a 20-degree angle would first have to adjust their gun elevation to pose a threat to the two anti-tank positions. This adjustment would take ten to fifteen seconds. In that time, my two anti-tank guns could each fire twice."

Viktor listened intently, carefully observing the positions Captain Hertsch pointed out and imagining the real combat scenario. It was clear to him that Captain Hertsch was an experienced commander; his suggestions were based on practical experience.

"See, you could effectively threaten our advance with just this setup," Captain Hertsch continued. "But you didn't do that. Instead, you simply constructed a weak defensive line on the street. This seems like a guerrilla tactic to me, not the way a regular army fights."

Viktor checked his watch. It was already 11 PM. If everything went according to plan, the Soviet vanguard would enter Lviv in three or four hours. In other words, the Germans were unlikely to change their minds and forcibly take Lviv.

"Yes, you're right, Captain Hertsch," Viktor said openly. "We are indeed not part of the regular Red Army. Besides the people here, we don't have more troops to deploy. But we are allies, aren't we? There shouldn't be any conflict between us, right?"

"Of course, as I just said," Captain Hertsch smiled. "For us, the war is already over. Additionally, half an hour ago, I received orders from my superiors that we are to withdraw from Lviv tomorrow morning."

"Yes, the war is over," Viktor lifted his cup, took a sip, and nodded. "No one likes war; everyone is the same."

"So, to end this damn war, shouldn't we have a good drink?" Captain Hertsch raised his cup toward Viktor and smiled.

"Cheers!" Viktor said loudly, raising his cup to clink it with Hertsch's.