295 Chapter 372 The Soviet-Finnish War (24)

Back at the camp, Simo and Matthäus heard some unpleasant news. A sniper team was ambushed, and out of the five snipers, three were killed, while the enemy didn't even scratch a hair and retreated unscathed.

"Hmm, seems like we're dealing with a pro here. Where did this happen?" Matthäus nodded as he saw the location marked on the map. "It's a bit far, but worth a visit. Killing foot soldiers all these days has been a bit boring. Notify all nearby snipers to retreat to avoid friendly fire."

After quickly finishing lunch and replenishing their supplies, the two set off for the location where the snipers were ambushed.

As they passed by a road, they stopped and listened carefully for a moment, faintly hearing the muffled sound of car engines in the distance.

"There's a convoy!"

"And no tanks escorting them."

The newcomers instinctively took down their guns and concealed themselves on both sides of the road, soon spotting several trucks appearing in the distance.

The snowfall grew heavier, accumulating thickly on the ground, while the earlier fallen snow had already frozen into ice in the sub-zero temperatures. Despite the snow chains on the tires, the cars still slid on the icy road with each step. "Damn place," cursed the driver of the first truck fiercely.

The soldier in the passenger seat gripped his rifle tightly, never letting his guard down throughout the journey. "I heard that the Finns have been particularly active lately, sliding around on sleds along the entire front line. Many of our brothers have suffered losses because of them. If we run into them, it's going to be bad."

"We should be fine. The Finns are currently worried about how to hold their line, they don't have the extra capacity to come out and ambush us." The driver's words seemed more like comforting himself than others.

Before he could finish his sentence, there was a light click, and the windshield shattered. The driver's head snapped back heavily, and blood sprayed out, instantly filling the cabin.

The Soviet soldier in the passenger seat screamed in terror, but was powerless to stop it. He could only watch helplessly as the out-of-control vehicle veered off the road and flipped over the embankment. Dazed from the impact, he hadn't recovered his senses before a bullet took his life.

These logistical transport units originally had little combat capability, and could only watch as the enemy systematically slaughtered them one by one.

The two men calmly singled out their targets in the convoy, until there was not a single living target left in the vehicles.

After confirming there were no survivors, Matthäus leisurely took out a knife and began carving marks on the gun stock.

In Eastern countries like China, Japan, and Korea, they use the character "正" for counting, while in the West, although they don't use the character "正", it's similar. Their counting method is to draw four vertical lines, and the fifth line goes across the four lines, forming a "卌" character.

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5..." Matthäus counted the dozens of "卌" characters on the gun stock. He whistled excitedly. "A total of 15, just 25 more and I'll also be remembered for generations." Fifteen "卌" characters meant he had already killed 75 enemies. If he killed 25 more, he would qualify to have his statue erected in the Imperial War Museum. "Simo, how many have you taken down?"

Simo counted the "卌" characters on his gun stock. "1, 2, 3... 14, 16; Three, 83 in total."

"Hey!" Matthäus looked incredulous, then sighed helplessly. "Who gave you such talent?" He had to admit, without a scope on his gun, he probably wouldn't achieve such a high kill count of 75 enemies.

For a sniper, not having a scope is like a chef not having a ladle. But Simo still managed it; even without a scope, he could accurately eliminate his targets. It was not only due to his exceptional personal skills, but also his own physiological functions.

Simo was naturally farsighted.

Far-sightedness, as the term implies, means seeing objects clearly at a distance while having difficulty focusing on nearby objects. The deeper the degree of far-sightedness, the clearer the vision at a distance.

For Simo, being far-sighted turned out to be a physiological defect that became a skill in his sniper work. This skill enabled him to break through professional bottlenecks and helped him become the world's strongest sniper. In later years, he was known as the world's number one sniper. When people talked about snipers, he was the first name that came to mind.

Simo chuckled dismissively. The two of them found a box of grenades in one of the compartments, tossed one into each compartment, and blew up all the vehicles.

As night fell, they encountered a Soviet camp.

Several Soviet soldiers were sitting around a campfire preparing their dinner. Suddenly, one soldier, who was about to put a potato into his mouth with a spoon, stiffened and slumped over silently into the arms of his comrade.

"Sniper!" The surrounding soldiers were shocked and quickly jumped up to grab their rifles placed nearby, nervously scanning their surroundings. It wasn't until the fourth and fifth soldiers fell that they realized the bullets were coming from the distant woods. The Soviet soldier operating the Degtyaryov light machine gun began wildly firing into the forest.

Matthäus and Simo hid behind a large tree, repeatedly pulling the trigger. With each pull of the trigger, another Soviet soldier fell to the cold snow.

The pitch-black forest, shrouded in darkness, resembled a silent monster. The Soviet soldiers exposed by the campfire were sitting ducks, even when lying on the snow. The silhouettes illuminated by the bright campfire became perfect targets. Anyone who dared to raise their head even slightly would soon have a hole in their skull.

"Ah!!!" One Soviet soldier couldn't bear the one-sided slaughter anymore. He screamed madly as he crawled up and ran backward, trying to escape this hellish scene. But before he could take a few steps, a bullet pierced his back, spraying blood as he fell to the ground. In a sense, he did manage to leave this hellish scene.

Perhaps stimulated by the situation, the machine gunner suddenly stood up, aiming his machine gun aimlessly into the woods, then a bullet pierced his forehead, and the machine gun's roar abruptly ceased.

Five, ten, more and more Soviet soldiers bid farewell to this world in the cold and ruthless gunfire. This invisible mysterious enemy, like the forest in front of them, was so resilient that they couldn't resist it, let alone fight back.

The remaining survivors had begun to numb themselves, to despair. They no longer futilely dodged or resisted, but sat numbly by the warm campfire, ignoring their comrades being picked off one by one, quietly waiting for the next bullet to take away their young lives.

Matthäus and Simo each emptied two magazines, eliminating an entire platoon of Soviet soldiers. Three more "卌" characters were added to Matthäus's gun stock.