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By Sven Hassel

There weren't quite a bit humans as animals. occasionally small and anxious, huddling jointly in livestock vehicles, wounds gaping, tongues swelling while they licked the wet frost from the walls...

Grievously wounded - having survived the working desk and the perilous trip West on a freezing freight educate - Sven Hassel and his comrades locate themselves at the back of the strains in a Hamburg health center.

The Reich is a hotbed of lies, betrayal and propaganda. Disgusted through the Nazi reason, the comrades drink themselves into oblivion, stopover at brothels the place girls dance bare on saloon tables and achieve for domestic comforts sooner than they go back to the scary Russian entrance. simply because Hitler's struggle needs to cross on...

COMRADES OF struggle is a gritty portrayal of war's harsh realities and the terror and fanaticism on the center of The 3rd Reich.

Sven Hassel's unflinching narrative relies on his personal reports within the German military. He started writing his first novel, LEGION OF THE DAMNED in a prisoner of battle camp on the finish of the second one global battle.

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The East Prussian shoved the entrenching spade in entrance of his face. Tiny used to be approximately to mild a cigarette. ‘Imbecile,’ the Legionnaire whispered, ‘do you need to make hovering angels folks all? ’ ‘Pig,’ Tiny replied lower than his breath. ‘Shut up, man,’ the outdated guy nervously whispered in go back. Bauer placed his head at the bag with the hand grenades. ‘This won't ever finish well,’ he whispered pessimistically. mendacity squeezed jointly, we appeared over a mound towards the Russian positions, that have been uncomfortably close to. lets contact the enemy’s minefield simply by stretching out our palms. Tiny manage the laptop gun and stared on the previous guy. ‘How do you intend to get during the minefield? ’ The Legionnaire bit his lip. ‘We’ll be hitting the clouds ahead of we will be able to say boo. ’ He didn’t say from now on. a few sound got here to us. A moderate clinking. each muscle in bodies tensed. ‘Death and damnation! ’ Porta whispered. He nudged Tiny. ‘Watch out at the left! ’ once again a clinking noise at midnight and coffee cursing: ‘Yob tvoyemat’! ’ ‘Ivan in person,’ Tiny whispered cheerily. The previous guy gave him a savage kick. He didn’t communicate, although we felt he desired to say anything. We pressed tight to the floor and held our breath. Tiny swung the laptop gun into place, able to sweep the terrain fresh of enemies. Porta’s eyes glittered at nighttime; he held the conflict knife in his hand. Stein unscrewed the cap of a hand grenade. The porcelain ring made a small clink. Sounds of laughter got here from the darkness. ‘Mille diables! ’ the Legionnaire whispered, ‘he’ll quickly ignore grinning. ’ 4 darkish figures popped up a number of yards from us. All we needed to do to get prisoners was once to place out our fingers. the matter solved with none fuss. It appeared so basic. ‘Go for them! ’ the outdated guy whispered. On noiseless cat’s ft we sneaked up at the 4 figures, who didn’t have the slightest suspicion of the risk in shop for them. shall we listen them whisper and giggle in low voices. without warning a crashing noise and a quick outcry reduce into the stillness of the evening. Heide had fallen right into a gap. within the similar immediate issues began relocating. The 4 Russians jumped to their ft and plunged head over heels towards the Russian positions, screaming: ‘Germanski, Germanski! ’ Tiny sprang up, gave a roar and hit the closest Russian a slanting blow at the shoulder together with his brief entrenching spade. From the Russian positions famous person shells shot hissing into the air, flooding the full glacis with a crude obtrusive mild. Heide, who used to be out of the opening by way of now, lunged in the back of the computing device gun and raked the positions with centred fireplace. a guy pounced upon me. I slightly glimpsed a contorted Mongolian face brushing previous me. a virtually infantile voice tangled up: ‘Pyos! ’ puppy! I despatched 3 pictures from my . 38 into his extensive face with the frivolously slanted eyes. He keeled over and lay nonetheless. From the Russian facet got here muffled experiences from the heavy infantry weapons and trench mortars. Brandt, our best supplier, was once hit through a Russian spade and fell over, with blood streaming from a huge open wound among his neck and shoulder.

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