Transmigrated as the Crown Prince

"Hey! Hey!"

"hurry up!"

Through the dim moonlight, I could vaguely see countless figures in a huge pit desperately waving shovels in their hands. Their clothes were stained with dust, and the sweat and dust on their faces drew black marks on their cheeks. But they didn't bother to wipe it, and shoveled the excavated soil into the iron buckets and woven baskets nearby. Every time a bucket was filled, it was pulled up and poured into the cart by the people above. Someone quickly pushed the cart to the river not far away, poured the soil into the river, and the river water washed it away.

After a while, someone hung down the rope ruler by the pit and asked. "How much rice?"

"Fifteen meters!"

"Oh my God!"

"I'm so exhausted!"

A group of big men in the pit collapsed to the ground almost at the same time, breathing heavily. These days they do nothing but dig holes. During the day, I put a camouflage net on the pit and dug secretly. At night, I didn't dare to light a lamp, so I had to dig in the dark by moonlight.

I finally finished digging today.

After resting for a while, one of them stood up. "Go up, the task is not completed yet."

Dozens of people climbed out of the pit along the rope ladder. "Thank you for your hard work. We have fifteen minutes left to prepare the conveyor belt."

At this time, at a curve ten kilometers away, a train was slowly coming over in the distance. The curve here is so steep that the train is in danger of overturning if it goes any faster. As soon as the locomotive passed the bend, strong black figures suddenly appeared on both sides of the railway and rushed towards the train. With a glare, they climbed onto the train.

If Yannick had been present, he would have lamented that he saw the German version of the Railway Partisans.

puff! puff! puff!

After three slight muffled sounds, the driver, co-pilot, and maintenance worker in the locomotive cab fell to the ground weakly before they could react.

The second and third carriages are fuel carriages (coal and water). I carefully opened the door of the fourth carriage and looked in through the crack in the door. I saw Soviet soldiers snoring loudly. There was no warning.

In fact, we can’t blame them. From the moment they received the goods in Spain, their nerves were always in a state of high tension. Now that we have finally entered the Soviet Union and will reach Moscow in a few hours, our nerves can't help but relax. With this relaxation, the fatigue accumulated over the past few days couldn't stop coming back.

Even when the car door was fully opened, no one was awake.

The muzzles of four M3 submachine guns that looked like grease guns were pointed at the more than thirty sleeping soldiers.

"Three, two, one!"

"Thud, tug, tug!" The four gun muzzles spurted flames at the same time.

Four special forces were boarded in each carriage, and almost instantly the entire army escorting the gold was wiped out.

The leader of the special forces team casually threw the empty M3 submachine gun in the aisle, pulled out a Colt M1911A1 pistol from his waist, walked forward, and inserted a bullet into every soldier who was still groaning.

After emptying one magazine, he sighed while replacing it with a new one. "Tch, those Americans can also make this kind of pistol, and it feels pretty good."

The team members following him continued casually. "I prefer P38."

The last person scolded dissatisfiedly. "Idiots, who told you to speak German?! What if any of these guys are alive? Put another bullet in each head to make sure everything is safe!"

"yes!"

In the fifth carriage, a strong man with a deep scar on his face spoke in extremely pure English. "You must be Mr. Major General Alexander Mikhailovich Orlov, right? Or should I call you Mr. Blackstone, the representative of the Bank of America?" This scarred face is none other than Otto Skorzeny.

"Who are you?! What are you going to do?!" Orlov looked pale and couldn't understand who was so bold and dared to openly rob on Soviet land?

Skorzeny had a joking smile on his face and bowed slightly. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am personally assigned by the President of the United States, Mr. Franklin Roosevelt, to retrieve the gold that belongs to our United States. Mr. Orlov is really a noble man who forgets his things. Your mission is not to transfer money belonging to the Bank of the United States. Was the gold sent to the UK for storage? What? Lost it? Was it sent to the Soviet Union while being delivered? Comrade Stalin didn't even let you keep the receipt. I think he wanted to keep the gold for himself, right?"

Orlov's face turned pale, and the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably. His mission this time was directly assigned by Stalin. Stalin personally told him that no matter how the Spaniards asked him for a receipt, he must refuse and refuse any relevant signature. He persuaded the Spanish government to give him a letter of certification to present when passing various checkpoints. In the letter of certification, Orlov became the representative of the Bank of America named Blackstone, and for the sake of safety, the gold belonging to the Bank of America was shipped to the United Kingdom for deposit.

How could these people know so clearly?

But I saw Skorzeny looking at his watch. "You contact me every thirty minutes to ensure safety, right? There are still ten minutes left. What is the security code this time?"

Do you even know this? Orlov's heart seemed to have fallen into an ice hole. Could it be that there is a traitor in Moscow? And this traitor is definitely not low-level, at least he participated in this plan to transport gold.

Skorzeny pulled out a Colt M1911A1 pistol from the holster and pointed the gun at the equally frightened correspondent beside him. "What's the security code?"

The correspondent spoke tremblingly. "Ice and snow."

Skorzeny pointed his gun at Orlov again. "Oh, is that so? Mr. Orlov?"

"..." Orlov hesitated!

Because the correspondent lied. "Bingxue" is the last security password. If a repeated security password is sent, the boss will know that something is wrong. For a moment, he considered whether to reveal the real security code in exchange for a chance of survival. This guy was not a tough guy who was willing to accept death. In the original time and space, he eventually defected to the United States.

Seeing the hesitant look on Orlov's face, the seemingly thin correspondent rushed towards the radio station. As if in slow motion, just as the correspondent's fingertips touched the radio, the bullet fired from the Colt pistol accurately penetrated his temple.

Looking at the correspondent who fell aside with an unwilling face, Skorzeny sighed. "I'm just teasing you." After speaking, he turned to ask the team member next to him. "What is the security code this time?"

The team member took out a pamphlet from his pocket, flipped through a few pages and replied. "This time it's 'Polar Bear.' 'Ice and Snow' was the safe code last time."

Orlov completely collapsed and slumped to the ground, murmuring and repeating. "How is it possible, how is it possible?! How could this happen?!" These people even know the security passwords clearly, so there is definitely no use keeping them. It seems that he is dead today.

Skorzeny looked at Orlov with a strange look in his eyes and kept repeating these two sentences, and ended his confusion with a shot.

At this time, accompanied by a harsh whistle, the train pulled the brakes and slowly stopped.

Dozens of people who had been waiting at the edge of the pit rushed towards the freight car.

"Crash!" The door of the carriage was opened from the inside, and the pungent smell of blood assaulted his nostrils. The man who opened the door urged loudly. "Quick, quick, we don't have time, hurry up and unload!"

The group of people quickly set up the conveyor belt that had been prepared, started the motor, quickly climbed into the carriage, and began to move the neatly stacked wooden boxes in the carriage to the conveyor belt. There were also two people guarding each conveyor belt under the car. After every dozen boxes of gold fell down, the conveyor belt would be moved to prevent the boxes in the pit from piling up in one place.

"Pull two people up from those villagers. They need to be stronger." There is a small village one kilometer away with more than a dozen families. In order to prevent the news from leaking, they had to tie up all these villagers. Fortunately, there are very few people here, so even if all these people disappeared, no one would notice.

Soon, two sturdy villagers were pressed onto the train. Skorzeny didn't waste any time. He pulled out the Soviet correspondent's gun and shot the two villagers to death with a random shot.

The team members next to him couldn't help but wonder. "Captain, what are you doing?"

Skorzeny had a proud look on his face. "This is called confusing the audience. Attach your submachine gun to this villager." As he spoke, he bent down and held Orlov's collar, and with a strong force, he threw the body directly into the pit.

It only took fifteen minutes for all the boxes filled with gold in several carriages to fall into the pit.

In the front of the car, Skorzeny was exhorting his team members. "There is a small town 30 kilometers ahead. In the transportation plan, the train will not stop there, just drive directly there. After 20 kilometers after passing the town, the train will pass a cliff. There will be deceleration warning lights on the roadside. See that After the signal, increase the speed to the maximum and jump off the train. Do you understand? The train will lose control and roll over the cliff. After that, you and the correspondent will walk about five kilometers north and you will find a railway."

The team member nodded heavily. "Understood. I have already kept these in mind."

Skorzeny patted him on the shoulder. "That's good. Don't forget our identities. If we encounter danger, we must not let the enemy capture us alive." After saying that, he jumped off the train and watched the train slowly start and move forward.

Everything was thrown into the pit. Motors, conveyor belts, and even the corpses of dozens of villagers were all pushed in. But the pit is still more than three meters deep. But this was done intentionally.

"Hurry up and fill in the soil, and compact every half meter!"

There are no heavy equipment like road rollers here. The special forces could only use the most primitive method, tying a thick log or a boulder that had not yet been split open in the village with a rope, and then several people threw it up and let it fall freely to compact the ground.

They worked until dawn before they erased all traces, as if nothing had happened here.

Boom!

Looking at the thickening dark clouds in the sky, Skorzeny had an excited smile on his face. "Haha, it seems like this rain will be heavy. God bless Germany!" Although they tried their best to eliminate traces of the scene, if someone searches carefully, they will still find some flaws.

Well now, this heavy rain will wash away the last traces, leaving no clues!