Because it was cloudy, as soon as it was dusk, the sky had already darkened.
Except for some ruins ignited by the flames of war, the entire city was pitch black, without a hint of starlight, like a city of death.
Not only the Soviets, even the currently dominant Germans didn't dare to light a campfire, as it would undoubtedly be the most conspicuous target in the night.
In a room of a building, a squad of Soviet soldiers was having a meal. The smoke of war had dyed their faces black, but even if conditions allowed, they didn't have the mind to wash up at times like this.
"What's that sound?" The squad leader suddenly stopped chewing, listening intently.
The others also paused, without needing orders, a soldier had already picked up his rifle, chambered it, and walked out of the room.
Clatter, the soldier looked up, seeing that the cracks blasted on the ceiling were continuously expanding, and debris kept falling.
