Sniper rifle

Qin Chuan's desire to avoid bloodshed was nothing but a futile wish.

After all, this was a battlefield, and the German forces had just defeated the British and were in hot pursuit. The sounds of gunfire and explosions continued ahead, leaving behind a trail of blood and corpses—some belonging to British soldiers, others to German soldiers. Qin Chuan and the others were essentially advancing along a path of blood.

As they walked, Qin Chuan noticed a group of British prisoners of war being held by the roadside. Some were wounded, with blood flowing from their injuries, but they could only clutch at their wounds with their hands because several German soldiers stood nearby, holding them at gunpoint.

Qin Chuan could clearly see the fear, despair, and pleading in their faces, though they knew that, surrounded by German soldiers, there was no one who would come to their aid.

Unable to ignore their suffering, Qin Chuan called out to a medic who was rushing past. "You should at least bandage them!"

"Them?" The medic stopped, glanced at the wounded British soldiers, and then shook his head at Qin Chuan. "We have orders: only save German soldiers!"

With that, the medic ran off, paying no further attention to Qin Chuan.

Qin Chuan shook his head and continued helping Trigger move forward. They hadn't gone far when the sound of gunfire rang out from behind. Qin Chuan turned to see a German officer systematically executing the British prisoners with a pistol. One by one, the British soldiers fell, each shot cleanly to the head.

The German officer showed no hesitation, as if the men before him were mere targets rather than human beings. He walked up, raised his pistol, and pulled the trigger with practiced ease.

After emptying the magazine, the officer casually reached into his pocket, reloaded the pistol, and wiped his bloodstained boot on the sand.

At this point, only two injured British soldiers remained. They were so terrified they could no longer speak, their eyes full of despair and desperate pleading.

But the German officer was relentless. After reloading, he chambered another round, then aimed at the remaining prisoners and, with a few more shots, they too collapsed like sacks of rags, their legs jerking upwards from the impact before they lay still.

"Why are they doing this?!" Qin Chuan asked in shock.

"Mind your own business," Trigger replied softly. "This has nothing to do with you."

Qin Chuan knew Trigger was right. As a mere private, he had no authority to question these actions, so he continued walking, his mind haunted by the helpless, despairing looks in the British soldiers' eyes and the horrific scenes of their deaths.

"Do you think the British wouldn't do the same to us?" Trigger said. "This is war, especially in the desert. We don't have the resources to care for prisoners."

Trigger had a point—in the desert, food, water, ammunition, and fuel were all scarce. Keeping prisoners would mean diverting some of those precious resources.

But… did that really justify executing prisoners?

As they continued, Qin Chuan noticed that Trigger was becoming heavier, and just as he was wondering why, Trigger's legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.

Qin Chuan quickly called out to the baker up ahead, "Sergeant, Trigger's in trouble!"

"Medic!" The baker shouted as he rushed over to where Trigger had fallen.

A medic arrived shortly after, quickly examining Trigger's wound. "He can't keep fighting," the medic said. "If he does, he'll die here."

The baker nodded, took Trigger's rifle, and retrieved all the ammunition from his pouches, handing them over to Qin Chuan. "These are yours now."

"But I already have a rifle," Qin Chuan protested.

"Then throw it away!" the baker replied, not bothering to look back as he continued moving forward.

Qin Chuan glanced at Trigger, then said to the medic, "Take good care of him. When he wakes up, tell him I'll keep his rifle safe."

"Sure thing," the medic replied, though his eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he found Qin Chuan's concern somewhat ridiculous.

As they resumed their march, Qin Chuan noticed that his comrades were eyeing him with a mix of envy and skepticism.

"Do you know how lucky you are?" The "bear" said to Qin Chuan. "A lot of people would kill to have that rifle."

He nodded toward the sniper rifle now slung over Qin Chuan's shoulder.

Qin Chuan understood what the "bear" meant. A sniper rifle in the German army wasn't just a piece of equipment; it symbolized status and respect, marking the holder as a cut above the ordinary soldier.

"Just wait," the "bear" said in a low voice. "Someone's bound to complain soon."

Qin Chuan was puzzled until he saw a short soldier running up to the baker, saying, "Sergeant, I don't think it's appropriate to give the sniper rifle to the 'deadweight'!"

"His name isn't 'deadweight,' Paul," the baker corrected him.

"Fine, whatever his name is, I still don't think it's appropriate," Paul insisted.

"Do you have a better idea?" the baker asked.

"Yes!" Paul replied. "Snipers often have to cover our advance. I don't think he's capable of handling that responsibility!"

The baker glanced around and noticed that Paul wasn't the only one who shared this opinion.

"He might get us all killed!" another German soldier said, then turned to Qin Chuan. "Sorry, Flak, but I had to say it!"

Qin Chuan understood. The battlefield was a brutally honest place, where politeness could come at the cost of blood or even lives.

"Sergeant," Qin Chuan said, unslinging the sniper rifle, "They're right. I don't think I'm suited to this rifle either. It should go to someone more skilled, more experienced…"

"I think it's perfect for you," the baker interrupted.

After a brief pause, the baker continued, "I know you're confused, but that's because you didn't see the enemy sniper Friedrich took down."

Qin Chuan was taken aback—he hadn't even seen the sniper he'd killed.

"If you had seen him," the baker went on, "you'd know that he was a major, yes, a British major, using a 4x scope. And yet Friedrich took him out with a standard rifle. Can any of you do that? Anyone… If you can, I'll give you this rifle!"

"Maybe it was just luck," Paul muttered.

"Luck?" The baker glared at Paul. "Against an experienced sniper, luck alone isn't enough. I think you all know that. So… I believe Friedrich is the best choice to carry this sniper rifle."

The other soldiers fell silent, but Qin Chuan could tell they weren't convinced. They were worried, afraid that Qin Chuan wouldn't be able to cover them effectively in battle.