Major Gavrilov ultimately refused the wounded soldiers' request.Even though everyone already knew how things would most likely end.
Sometimes, it was impossible to tell the difference between mercy and cruelty. Either choice hurt, and on the battlefield, there were no perfect answers.
Soon, the time limit given by the Germans expired.
Dmitri noticed something strange about them. Even in the middle of a brutal war, the Germans still tried to keep their promises. It wasn't kindness—it was strategy.
If threats were made again and again without action, eventually nobody would fear them anymore.
So the Germans counted down precisely through the loudspeaker.
Then the bombardment began.
WHOOOOOSH—BOOOOM!
The shells slammed into the Central Fortress one after another.
The ground shook violently.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Somewhere outside, flames spread through the ruins as German bombers dropped incendiary barrels filled with fuel. Dmitri could see the orange glow flickering through cracks in the walls.
Then came the sound everyone feared most.
The super-heavy mortars.
BOOOOOOM!
The explosion sounded less like artillery and more like the sky itself splitting apart.
Even underground, the shockwave slammed into the basement walls hard enough to make the concrete tremble.
A few soldiers instinctively ducked.
Others simply sat there silently.
Too exhausted to react anymore, but despite all the destruction, the basement held.
The Germans had promised to "end everything," yet the fortress still stood stubbornly against the storm of fire.
At least for now.
As the bombardment continued, Dmitri found himself beginning to hate the fortress itself, at first, Brest Fortress had seemed strong and unbreakable.
Now it felt like a giant tomb.
Fortresses belonged to another age, an age of swords, shields, cavalry, and ladders, back then, thick walls protected the defenders from arrows and charging horses.
But modern war was different, artillery shells could fly over walls, bombers could drop explosives directly inside, tanks could bypass strongpoints entirely.
Instead of protecting soldiers, fortresses now trapped them.
The Germans didn't even need to fully capture Brest to defeat it, they only had to control the bridges, the riverbanks, and the road, then everyone inside became prisoners without chains.
Even the fortress's original purpose had failed.
It had been built to block enemy advances into Soviet territory, but the main German spearheads had simply bypassed Brest and pushed deeper into the Soviet Union anyway.
Minsk.
Smolensk.
Eventually Moscow.
The war had already moved far beyond them.
Dmitri bitterly realized something, the fortress wasn't protecting them anymore, it was burying them alive.
Gradually, the shelling slowed.
The silence afterward felt even heavier.
Now another problem appeared.
Water.
During the breakout attempt, everyone had focused on ammunition, rafts, and weapons. Hardly anyone thought to refill canteens properly.
Now the remaining water bottles were nearly empty, and the wounded needed water desperately.
Not just to drink, to clean wounds, to survive blood loss, to stay alive for even a few more hours.
The children suffered the most.
Dmitri could still see their dry lips and tired eyes.
Some mothers quietly begged soldiers for water, trying not to cry in front of their children.
That was somehow worse than the artillery.
Eventually, Major Gavrilov had no choice, he ordered water retrieval teams to crawl toward the river again.
Just like before.
But things had changed, the Germans now controlled the riverbanks completely, Machine guns were aimed at every possible approach, mortars targeted known pathways.
The moment Soviet soldiers approached the water—
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Gunfire erupted.
Most of the squads never returned.
Sometimes only one wounded man crawled back.
Sometimes nobody did.
Major Gavrilov clenched his jaw angrily "It's Altu," he muttered bitterly. "That bastard knows our weak points."
He was right.
Ordinary deserters might tell the Germans the fortress lacked water.
But only the Instructor knew exactly where Soviet troops usually collected it.
Only someone familiar with the fortress layout could coordinate such deadly fire zones so accurately.
Then, as if to confirm it, the loudspeaker crackled again.
KRRRZZZT—
A familiar voice echoed through the ruins.
"Comrades… this is Instructor Yermak Altu speaking."
The basement immediately fell silent.
Several soldiers froze.
Others cursed under their breath.
Major Gavrilov slammed his fist against the table "That bastard still calls himself an Instructor?"
Even Commissar Fomin exploded into profanity.
But none of it stopped the voice.
The Instructor continued calmly, almost confidently.
"I must admit something to you. Resistance is pointless." His voice echoed clearly through the darkness.
"The Germans are already nearing Minsk. Do you understand what that means?"
He paused for effect.
"Everything within hundreds of kilometers around you is under German control. Even if you break out, where will you go?"
Silence.
Only the distant crackle of fire outside.
Then the Instructor delivered the final blow.
"Think about your families. Your wives. Your children. Do you really want them to die here with you?"
Unlike the Germans' blunt threats, the Instructor understood exactly where to strike.
He had spent years doing political work among Soviet soldiers.
He knew their fears.
Their hopes.
Their weaknesses.
His words cut deeper than artillery.
Several soldiers slowly lowered their heads.
In the darkness, quiet sobbing could be heard.
Of course, many hated him.
Everyone knew what kind of man he truly was now, everything he once said about loyalty and sacrifice had only been empty words.
Even Dmitri felt disgusted listening to him.
Not just anger.
Disgust.
He couldn't understand how someone could betray everyone around him and still speak with such confidence—without even a trace of shame.
But whether they hated him or not didn't matter.
The damage had already been done.
More and more soldiers quietly slipped away into the darkness.
Toward the German lines.
Toward surrender.
Major Gavrilov and Commissar Fomin saw it happening, but neither of them stopped it, maybe they couldn't anymore.
Or maybe…
Deep down, they understood.
If there was truly no hope left, forcing people to stay and die together achieved nothing.
After a long silence, Commissar Fomin finally spoke quietly.
"Perhaps… we should send the women and children away."
Major Gavrilov looked stunned for a moment.
Then he slowly nodded, nobody believed surrender guaranteed safety, but staying here guaranteed death.
So the order was given.
Women, children, and elderly civilians slowly walked out of the basement with trembling hands raised high.
Some cried quietly.
Others stared blankly ahead.
The children stayed unusually silent, as if they already understood too much for their age.
One by one, they disappeared into the darkness toward the German lines.
Dmitri watched silently.
History repeating itself.
He had known something like this happened before at Brest.
But witnessing it with his own eyes felt completely different.
Still, not everyone left, dozen women remained behind, that surprised Dmitri.
Matvey noticed his expression and smirked bitterly.
"They're young," he said quietly. "And beautiful."
Dmitri immediately understood,some had no children, no family left to protect.
And some knew exactly what could happen to them if they surrendered to enemy soldiers during wartime.
So they chose to stay.
Even if staying meant death,it was cruel,but war itself was cruel, In times like these…
Beauty could become a curse.