English Translation

The Sturmscharführer sees his companion in the eyes for seconds, then he just nods his head forward. "Go!" Both men fast up from the ground and fall on the sniper. The men of the Sniper's eye are the same as the men of Snipers. A blow with the gun against the skull of the unknown, and this collapses without reflection. Soviet egg-hand grenades, who are in his pockets, show that their attack has not caught an innocent. However, written records are not to be found, and so the man is bound and gagged, so that he can be interrogated later and does not do anything stupid at this time. It goes on. After ten minutes of march, the outlines of a one-storey house appear in front of them. "We are at the finish, whispers the Ukrainian. Their pistols in the fist, they quietly open the door and turn on the glare lantern. The living room is empty, and only out of the kitchen it smells of horse meat, indicating the presence of people. No human soul, however, is to be seen, and the only living being in the rooms is a dirty cat. Already the Sturmscharführer wants to stop the search as resultless and start the return march, then the Ukrainian suddenly puts his finger on the mouth. They listen with held breath, and in fact they hear a snoring sound, which descends from a slightly opened mouth in the middle of the ceiling. "This will be the second lad," whispers the Sturmscharführer, "fastly pull the little ladder out of the corner." Then he grabs into the sprouts and climbs up first, pushing the flap with his head up. Under the attic it is darker, and on all four crawling the StormscharFührer moves towards the corner from which the loud snoring sounds. Suddenly his foot comes across something soft, and a suppressed curse sounds to him. It's time to drive it through his head; then he pulls his gun up and presses on the button of his flashlight. "Rucki throw!" A light cone cuts through the darkness, and in the corner a ruffled figure runs out of sleep awakens to the height. "Cursed dog!" it sounds in Russian to the storm leader, and the man's hands go into his pocket. It flashes briefly out of the German official's pistol, and his sniper collapses fatally hit to the front. "A good catch," says half an hour later when the storm commander leaves the house to his companion. "In the skirt section of the bandit a sketch was sewn, on which one can clearly see the eye-catcher angle of the remaining band." At dawn the two men reach their accommodation again. The result of their nightly exploration is immediately evaluated and transmitted with the telex of the competent military service. Parts of a Romanian mountain brigade under the leadership of the y-men familiar with the local constituencies are marching immediately, and the threat of the Karasubasar area will soon be a thing of the past! 00'000000 82