Three Hundred and Three Should Be Long Live

On the streets of Berlin, people are in a hurry, and the tall chimneys not far away have been emitting black smoke from morning to night. German factories are not worried about the lack of orders now, they are just worried that they will not be able to work overtime if they have more orders.

This is a cold city, and pedestrians rarely greet each other on the streets. They have countless things to be busy with, such as the cold iron gates of the factory, the cold iron windows in the workshop, the cold rails in the industrial area, the cold hammers at the workbench... It can be said that the whole of Germany is now a cold country.

"Ding bell!" The doorbell rang, and the door was pushed open from the outside. A man with high cheekbones walked into the small shop on the corner of the block with a large-looking leather bag under his arm. He was wearing unseemly clothes, but they were relatively clean. A pair of leather shoes looked old, but they were meticulously taken care of.

He hesitated outside for more than half an hour, dawdling from get off work time until dinner time, and then opened the door and walked in. He looked a little flustered, but more frustrated. He lives in a building nearby and is a standard office worker.

"Oh! Mr. Pan Sen." The owner of the small shop adjusted his glasses with black frames on the bridge of his nose. When he saw a familiar person walking in, he immediately put down the pen and notebook in his hand, and greeted him with a smile. : "Welcome, what do you need?"

"Boss, I'm here to buy some flour and potatoes." The man named Pan Sen who walked into the small shop looked around the shop and found no one else, so he whispered: "I heard that your place..."

"Mr. Pan Sen, I don't know what you're talking about. There are a lot of potatoes here, and I can pick some fresh ones for you." The boss said with a smile on his face, without any fluctuation in his tone: "But you need to know, Flour is a limited supply of the empire, you can only go to the food ration station to get it with a supply ticket."

Pan Sen put the big leather bag on the counter in front of the boss, opened it, took out several new imperial gold marks that the imperial government had promised would not depreciate, pushed it to the smiling boss, and begged, "I know you This is the only deal here, I want some flour, my little girl is sick and she told me she wanted white bread... please."

"Is there any more?" The boss pressed his hand on a few gold marks, rubbed them lightly, glanced sideways, and asked.

"Ah?" The man was taken aback, looked up at the boss, not knowing what to say.

"Is there anything else?" The boss asked again.

"Yes... Yes!" The man hurriedly took out his purse, took out the remaining few gold marks, and handed them to the boss. Although he knew that the money in his hand could buy a lot of flour under normal circumstances, but now that the rationing system is implemented, most things cannot be bought with money, so he took out the money without hesitation.

The shop owner brought the money,

After counting it, he pushed one back to the man, and went back to get a sealed packaging bag with "Military Supplies" written on it in bold black letters. Then he took out a tin can from the grid under the counter, and saw that the packaging turned out to be refined natural butter.

"The 50 gold marks are for flour, and the other is for butter. Eating white bread without natural butter is a waste of food... Don't tell others that I have butter here." The boss smiled and pushed the two things to Pan Sen who was standing there. : "I hope your daughter can get better soon."

"Really, thank you..." The man was so moved that he was about to cry. Most Berliners haven't eaten natural butter for several years. Their luxury food is only margarine and brown bread.

"Dingling!" The doorbell rang. Before Pan Sen could turn his head, the door was pushed open from the outside again. Pan Sen subconsciously looked back when he heard the sound, and his face immediately changed with fright. He even felt that the sky had collapsed and the world had been destroyed.

An SS officer was followed by a soldier carrying a Mauser 98k rifle, and the two walked into the small shop leisurely. The SS officer in the front has his hands behind his back, and the guard behind him is holding the door with one hand and pulling the strap on the gun with the other. The two were staring at Pantheon, at the flour and butter he held in his hand.

Quiet, so quiet that it makes people tremble. The tinkling sound was the sound of the butter can in Pan Sen's hand hitting the button of the leather bag. The reason was simple, his hands were trembling constantly.

The officer took a step forward with his hands behind his back, and Panser moved his toes slightly in fright. He also thought about running away, but after glancing at the rifles carried by the SS soldiers at the door, he lost the courage to run away.

I heard that the SS are some trained demons, the most terrifying cold-blooded killing machines in the empire: they can smash your head with a single shot from a thousand meters away; they can drive tanks to penetrate dozens of enemies in one go a tank; they would pull people out of bed in the middle of the night and slit their throats on the street;

Now it was finally his turn. Buying military supplies was a felony, and he could be sentenced to up to two years in prison. He would be sent to a horrible concentration camp to serve his sentence.

Thinking of this, Panser swallowed involuntarily, allowing the sweat to slide from his forehead to the tip of his nose, not daring to wipe it off with his hands. Until the German police officer walked up to him, he didn't even dare to move an inch away.

"Flour, butter. Have a birthday party?" The officer pressed the flour bag with his finger, showing a frightening smile: "Are ordinary office workers in Berlin so rich now? It's really a luxury."

"His daughter is sick, so I managed to get some." The boss continued to smile harmlessly and said, "What do you need, sir?"

"How old is my daughter?" The officer seemed to be interested, leaning against the counter and asked.

"Ten...ten years old..." Pan Sen answered boldly.

"Ten years old..., my son is sixteen." The officer took out a cigarette case and handed Pan Sen a cigarette: "Smoking?"

"No, I don't smoke. Thank you..." Pan Sen was on the verge of crying, he was in no mood to smoke. The notoriety of the SS arresting and interrogating people has been spread among the citizens of Berlin for a long time. With the idea of ​​being courteous for nothing, Pan Sen felt that he would be hanged on a telegraph pole and hanged soon.

"You are so lucky to have a daughter by your side." The officer took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, then put away the cigarette, and continued, somewhat chatteringly, "He joined the Yuan Youth Army training camp last year, and he has not No one in sight."

While rambling, he took out a few gold marks and handed them to the boss: "Give him a few more bottles of Coke, and I'll treat our little patients to drinks."

"Sir...you..." Pan Sen felt that his brain was about to freeze, and he could no longer handle the development of the situation in front of him.

"I want to know why we didn't arrest you?" The officer smiled, still looking a little scary, which has something to do with the folds of facial muscles. This officer belongs to the former.

He laughed twice and then said: "Then what do you think I arrested you for? I know that in private you say that we are demons, and we have indeed killed people and ransacked homes, but we are the SS, the Yuan Pro-military, if we don't do these things, then who will do them? When I killed the first time, I was sick and didn't eat..."

"Oh, why am I telling you this?" The SS officer sighed, then shook his head and smiled self-deprecatingly: "You go, don't be discovered by others."

These few minutes made Pantheon feel as if decades had passed. He arched his back and hugged his heavy leather bag, which contained precious butter and flour and two bottles of fashionable Coca-Cola. The moment he passed the SS soldier standing at the door, the sense of relief almost made him faint, but he still walked until he reached the end of the street.

Just after he pushed open the door of his house and saw his wife and daughter lying on the bed, he suddenly laughed. The days are indeed getting better and better. He has money and food, and recently he even wants to improve his life-all these are the benefits of Germany's strength, aren't they? Compared with the past, during the Weimar Republic, he lost his job, lived on the streets, and slept in a small cramped house with his wife and children.

It was the new economic stimulus plan that allowed him to find a job and get a high salary. As a result, he bought his own house and saved a few dollars in savings. Master Yuan, it really should be long live.

"Business is good recently?" Watching Pan Sen walk away, the SS officer casually asked the owner of the small shop behind the counter.

Pan Sen didn't know how big an official the SS officer was, but the owner of the shop obviously knew that the colonel was in charge of intelligence collection by the SS, had a lot of real power, and had a direct relationship with the shop. relation.

"Business is good, and people have a great demand for the flour printed by the army. General Reinhardt is indeed clever. Even if these grains are put on the market, they will be looted, and we sell them in such a way that they are scattered and sold secretly. It made the common people dissatisfied with the food quota supply, and made a lot of money." The boss replied with a smile.

"This is the strategy Augustus gave Yuan. The whole plan includes many aspects such as stable work, gradual restoration of free food trade, overtime subsidy system, etc. The purpose is to enhance the sense of belonging and mobilize the patriotic enthusiasm of all German people." The officer stood up. Come and walk out: "If there are too many, you can't talk nonsense... Is there anything unusual recently?"

"Everything is normal." The store manager still maintained his kind smile: "The residents around here have always been very honest."

The officer pushed the door out: "Then you continue to work, I'll go to the next store to have a look."