Germany does not seek survival

"Bitch! How dare you steal the holy elephant!"

The Austrian soldier's boots stepped on the nun's bare ankle. The nun's screams startled the pigeons on the pillars. A flock of white pigeons flew over the nun's head, and her headscarf fell off, revealing her slightly curled dark brown hair.

"stop."

Faust couldn't bear to watch it anymore, so he stopped the Austrian soldiers who were committing the atrocities. The nun on the ground took the opportunity to crawl towards Faust, and her injured foot dragged a winding bloody trail on the cobblestone road.

The nun looked up at Faust's epaulettes and guessed that he was of a high military rank. She pleaded for help, "Sir, they are trying to remove the mosaics in the cloister and steal the holy icons in the monastery..."

Before she could finish her words, the barrel of the Austrian soldier's gun was pressed against the back of her neck.

Faust grabbed the Austrian soldier's rifle and glared at him: "Whose order is this?"

The lieutenant was a little embarrassed. "Sir, it's Marshal Conrad's order. The headquarters has ordered us to transport all the important works of art from Venice back to Vienna first, just in case."

Faust was a little angry: "I am Faust, Colonel Witt Faust of the German Army. My order now is to stop all your atrocities. What are you doing? You are just like some robbers and thieves, not like what Viennese people would do at all."

Faust helped the injured nun up, and only then noticed that the nun's face was very young, with long eyelashes casting butterfly-like shadows under her eyes. The wide and heavy black nun's robe could not hide the plump and soft curves underneath.

Hitler was responsible for taking away all the soldiers who looted the Monastery of St. Zaccaria. Faust ordered Hitler to communicate with Marshal Conrad and not allow the Austrian army to do such stupid things again.

The other nuns in the monastery came out, holding rosaries, surrounding Faust, praying for him and singing hymns.

Faust asked the name of the injured nun. The nun was named Monica. Calling her a nun is not entirely accurate. Her main job is a mural restorer in the Monastery of San Zaccaria. Her job is to use a quill pen to gild the folds of the saints' clothes in the sacristy, which is more like the duties of an artist.

The nuns in the monastery all wanted to invite Faust to have a meal to thank him for his help, and Faust did not refuse, as he had originally wanted to visit the ancient Monastery of St. Zaccaria.

He obeyed the order and walked into the monastery and had a meal with the nuns.

At the end of the war, the shortage of supplies and the turbulent situation also affected the monasteries in Italy. The nuns ate black bread for meals, which tasted poor. The only other food they had was vegetables, cabbage, carrots, onions, and potatoes, which were stewed in a pot with water and a small amount of salt to make soup.

After dinner, the nuns went back to work. They had to put the artworks and icons looted by the Austrian soldiers back to their original places in the monastery.

Monica, the restorer of the holy icon mural, lifted her skirt, and the sunlight shining through the stained glass windows wove a flowing rainbow on her back, making her look incredibly beautiful. The curve of her breasts, in particular, looked particularly exaggerated in the backlight, and even Faust was stunned.

Chapter 116: The Unfaithful Nun*

"You didn't just save me."

When Sister Monica saw Faust, her eyes were particularly enthusiastic. She moved close to Faust, and the holy medal at her collar slid to the side, revealing the amazing undulations under her nun's clothes - that was a vitality that even coarse linen could not suppress, like Michelangelo's unfinished sculpture, with the warmth of marble hidden deep in the folds.

"It's the memory of the entire monastery. The twelfth-century Gospel of St. Mark, with the emerald eye on the cover..."

Monica ran her finger across her plump lower lip. "Bigger and brighter than my eyes."

Beneath the nun's white collar, undercurrents surged, and Faust felt an inexplicable heat. Perhaps it was because during the war, the nuns stayed in the monastery for too long and had never seen a man. Monica's enthusiasm for Faust was a little beyond the average level.

Faust was concerned about the wound on the nun's foot. He brought some medicine and gave it to the nun: "Your foot is injured, child. I know there must be not much medicine in the monastery these days. I give it to you so that it won't leave a scar."

The nun took the medicine from Faust and brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand. Monica's thumb rubbed Faust's palm, and another wave of warmth came over her.

"Thank you, I am so grateful. Without your help, our monastery would have suffered great shame and harm. By the way."

The nun seemed to remember something. She covered her lips with her black long sleeves and chuckled. Then she bent down and knelt in front of the sacristy to take out a glass bottle. As she knelt, the curve of her waist and hips perfectly overlapped with the angel carvings on the 15th-century walnut cabinet.

Monica showed the glass bottle to Faust: "The monastery used to make wine before the war. We stopped making wine during the war, but some people still hide some red wine."

The nun showed the bottle of wine in her hand, and her expression looked proud and arrogant. It was indeed worthy of her pride that a civilian could take out wine to entertain guests at the end of the war.

Faust smiled and waved his hands: "I didn't do you any big favors, it was just a small favor. I don't accept any gifts."

Monica tilted her beautiful little head. An idea struck her, and she took out two more goblets from the sacristy. "Sir, we can drink together, and you won't feel guilty. I just wanted to thank you."

Faust was reluctant to accept the offer and was about to decline, but Monica had already opened the cork of the wine. She poured the crystal clear red wine into a goblet, half filled it up, took a sip herself, and then handed it to Faust:

"Please don't hesitate!"

The aroma of the wine was really tempting, and Faust could smell it. It must be a top-quality red wine. It smelled and was no worse than the red wine Faust had seen at the banquet at Charlottenburg Palace.

As a colonel in the army, Faust enjoys a very high level of food and benefits, but the German army's supplies are extremely tight. Even a colonel finds it difficult to drink wine, let alone such high-quality red wine.

Moreover, as the leader of the National Socialist Party, Faust had to set an example and live his daily life according to the standards of a private soldier. The National Socialist Party had always emphasized that officers and soldiers should be treated equally.

Suddenly smelling such a mellow wine, Faust was moved and no longer refused.

The nun poured herself a second glass of red wine. She raised the glass high in front of Faust. Faust could see the light spot falling on the nun's collar through the reflection of the glass.

In the V-shaped neckline of the nun's uniform, there was a flicker of light brighter than the Byzantine sapphire. It was the candlelight shining through the glass and reflected on the nun's cleavage, which was white and very tempting.

Faust's Adam's apple rolled as the nun sipped her red wine while introducing him to the many artworks in the monastery. She began with the monastery's founding in the ninth century, moving on to the Renaissance and the rise of the Republic of Venice, the despicable Fourth Crusade, the subsequent struggle between Venice and the Turks for supremacy in the Mediterranean, and the ultimate decline of the Republic of Venice...

Monica had a high level of historical knowledge, and her story was very engaging and eloquent. The two chatted and laughed while sipping the fragrant wine. After a while, a blush appeared on the nun's face.

She walked over to a painting of a naked angel and introduced it to Faust, saying, "Look, isn't this painting beautiful? I painted it."

Faust praised: "The brushstrokes are so delicate, the lines of the skin are so lifelike, and the figure is depicted so beautifully. I can't believe such a beautiful body can exist in the world. No wonder people say that paintings can often depict beautiful things that do not exist in reality."

The nun blushed even more at the compliment. "Fifteenth-century nuns believed that mixing watercolors with breast milk could keep holy images forever young."

She suddenly turned around and said: "Now I believe that under the protection of the colonel, they can be kept safe until the next century."

Faust's keen hearing allowed him to clearly hear the nun's increasingly rapid heartbeat. He tried to comfort her, but Monica said, "That painting of an angel is a self-portrait of mine, painted on my own body."

"You're so cute."

The nun must have drunk too much, as her words became more and more exaggerated: "I always want to thank you more, thank you more. What if, what if those Austro-Hungarian soldiers want to plunder the holy icons of the monastery again, will you help me again? As long as you help me, if you are willing..."

She took a half step back, the fabric of her nun's robe clinging to her belly, outlining lines more graceful than those of ancient Roman reliefs. Her flat belly was both healthy and beautiful.

However, Faust noticed that the white calves exposed under the nun's skirt still had scars.

Faust suggested, "Please sit down and I will help you apply the medicine."

Monica nodded with a red face. She sat obediently on the steps in front of the sacristy, took off one of her boots, and put her right foot on Faust's knee. Faust saw that the nun was wearing wool socks woven by the monastery. He took off the socks, and one of his little feet slowly revealed white and smooth skin, which was whiter than marble and smoother than holy oil.

Faust's fingers unconsciously stroked the nun's ankle. The moment he applied the medicine, the nun felt pain and moaned softly. The sound was so gentle, beautiful and seductive that even Faust couldn't help feeling hot in his heart.

Faust felt that the nun's delicate body was trembling obviously, and the nun's soft moans became more and more beautiful. When Faust finished applying the medicine and wrapped the bandage around her ankle and tightened it, the nun tightened her legs even more and her whole body shook violently.

Sister Monica's face was flushed, her eyes were full of tears, and even the delicate skin on her calves turned a light pink.

"You have never seen a man in the monastery in all these years, right?" Faust asked.

Monica answered softly. Her voice was now as soft as a mosquito's buzz and trembled slightly, as if the aftertaste of the music had still faded. "During the war, of course there were no men in the monastery. In fact, even before the war, I had few contacts with men."

Faust smiled and said, "You are a particularly pious nun."

Sister Monica shook her head vigorously: "No! I can't say I'm pious!"

Faust was a little surprised. How could a nun say that she was not pious enough? He pressed his palm on Monica's calf and applied a little force. The nun moaned softly, and soon Faust felt his fingers touching something wet, just like sweat on the nun's legs.

It's just that the sweat is thicker than usual.

Sister Monica's eyes flashed with longing: "I just want to wait until the war is over and go to Vienna, the art capital. Or Munich would be great too! I want to continue studying painting there."

Vienna is the art capital of Europe, and Munich is a rising star. It is said that before the war, Hitler was fascinated by these two cities.

Faust picked up the nun's bandaged calf and said, "So you put all your devotion to God into your art."

The nun's pink toes gently touched Faust's chest: "Colonel, can we meet again in the future? I have never seen a man as handsome as you."

Faust thought: "Yes, I will. If you go to Vienna or Munich in the future, we can certainly meet again."

The nun leaned close to Faust and asked him, "Can I hug you, Colonel?"

"This is not good."

"Just for a moment, just hold me gently."

Faust couldn't refuse, so he put down Monica's calves, opened his arms, and gently hugged the nun in his arms.

The beauty was in his arms, warm and fragrant, and Faust could clearly feel the nun's breasts, which had swelled and risen, and the small grapes were tightly pressed against Faust's body.

The nun also hugged Faust, her body still trembling: "Colonel, you are so strong and healthy... I, I can't imagine being able to hold you. God forgive me, I really want you to hold me like this forever, forever, forever, and we will be connected like this... I am so happy."

Faust felt a pair of fleshy balls in his arms rubbing against his chest. The nun squirmed in his arms, her thighs pressed against Faust's lower body, tightly clamping it and rubbing it back and forth with her thighs.

Faust was a little surprised: "Aren't nuns God's wives? They should devote their lives to religion and serving God."

In joy, Monica murmured, "Ah, Colonel, I respect God and I respect my faith, but I'm not that pious. It's hard for me to spend my whole life serving God. In the monastery, I only like the art here. I'm not that pious about other things. I feel happier being with you..."

Monica smiled again, "Sir, you're really good at pushing me."

The nun took the initiative to put her arms around Faust's neck and kissed him hard. She pressed Faust on the steps of the sacristy, lifted up her black nun's skirt, revealing her round and smooth thighs, turned her over, adjusted her position, and sat on Faust's waist.

Monica rode on Faust, and her breasts appeared bigger and firmer, elegantly drawing a beautiful curve on her chest.

Faust had no reason to object, but the nun said: "Before I leave the monastery and become a real painter, I can't violate the church's rules. We can't really do anything..."

Faust couldn't help but feel a little disappointed at this, but Monica continued, "Colonel, do you want to get behind me?"

(Abridged)

The nun raised her head high, breathing rapidly, and began to rock her body back and forth. The "bang, bang" sound was extremely crisp, her body vibrated violently, and the two plump and towering snow balls on her chest shook violently, and she whimpered in pain again.

Faust's palms tightly grasped the shaking snowball. Under the nun's high-pitched shouts, the two of them released themselves to the fullest in front of the monastery's holy murals. When everything was over, the two of them hugged each other tightly and kissed passionately...

Chapter 117: The End of the Empire

On New Year's Day 1918, Europe had been at war for nearly three and a half years and was on the brink of collapse. Millions of soldiers had been killed or maimed, the land had been ravaged, and civilians were starving, cold, and displaced. Allies and Central Powers alike viewed the war as a grand adventure, confident that victory was within their grasp.

However, over time, the war descended into a bloody and brutal stalemate. Fierce trench warfare ensued, with gains and losses limited to mere inches of territory. Soldiers from many nations sacrificed countless lives on every front—in Belgium, France, Italy, the Balkans, Mesopotamia, Palestine—to no avail.

In the past year, Germany had won remarkable victories on the battlefield. First, the German army, under the command of Marshal Mackensen, defeated Serbia, and then Colonel Faust, the hero of Saint-Quentin, led his troops into Bucharest and conquered Romania.

The raid in the Gulf of Riga was a brilliant success, leaving the Russian capital Petrograd indefensible. Soon after, the German army occupied Petrograd with a larger-scale offensive, and the already shaky authority of the Provisional Government completely collapsed.

Therefore, Lenin led the Bolsheviks to launch the November Revolution and successfully seize power in Moscow, where they did not invest all their resources.

Probably because of the loss of the capital Petrograd, the Kerensky Provisional Government made Russia's Constitutional Liberals even more infamous than the last Tsar Nicholas II in just a few months.

Not to mention, because of the fall of Petrograd, most of the ships of the Russian Navy's Baltic Fleet were captured by the German army. The loss was unprecedented since the founding of the Romanov dynasty.

Then there's Italy.

The Po River Operation was a complete success, and one million Italian troops were annihilated on the front line. If Britain and France had not sent troops to support them, Italy would have been destroyed.

In April of the previous year, the United States joined the war with great enthusiasm and seemed to be the only remaining hope for the Allies.

But before the Yankee soldiers arrived, the United States still needed to mobilize, train, and arm itself, and all of this took time.

Time also became the most important and precious thing for the Allies.

On the Western Front, the Nivelle Offensive, led by French General Robert Georges Nivelle, ended in disastrous defeat. The death toll was appalling, and a major mutiny broke out among the French army. To quell the chaos, the army's high command executed some soldiers, and the new commander, Henri Pétain, also made some concessions. However, the morale of the French army was greatly affected, and the initial spirit that had fought to the death against the German invasion was gone.

The British launched the Battle of Flanders, in which another 250,000 soldiers were killed, and the result was: they advanced less than six miles.

Life was not easy behind the Allied lines either. The German army had restarted unrestricted submarine warfare, and people were lining up to buy food. Many people were speculating and hoarding goods, and this became a common practice across the country. People were nervous, but there were no riots.

The British were becoming a little irritable, but they weren't broken, and the jokes were still being made. However, beneath the humour lay a lingering sense of resentment. Workers were dissatisfied with their living conditions; the middle class felt they were bearing the heaviest burden, as always; and the people at the top were growing tired of the endless bickering.

The disastrous defeat at Nivelle inflicted heavy losses, and France had yet to recover by the start of the new year. Although the military mutiny had subsided, the French military feared a repeat of the same mistake and was hesitant to overexert its troops. Thus, a new motto emerged: defense, with the goal of minimizing casualties.

Under the dominance of defensive psychology, the ideas of defeatism and non-resistance began to spread, but at this time they had not yet exerted their full power. However, they had already planted a seed for the development of history.

Everything about the Allies was bad. Was German victory just around the corner?

Not at all.

The situation in Germany is even worse.

In the early spring of 1918, the war on the Italian front had come to a complete standstill. Faust spent a whole month in Venice, which could be described as a comfortable winter vacation. He was leisurely and happy, and was reluctant to leave. Finally, he was recalled to his country by a telegram from Berlin.

On the way back home, Faust first took a train. Due to fuel shortage and insufficient train services, he had to transfer to a horse carriage. Later, he even had to walk for a distance.

Faust is a colonel. To the emperor and marshals, a mere army colonel is not worth mentioning, but to ordinary people, colonel is already an unattainable power.

In this way, the colonel could not take the train or car for the entire journey back to his country.

The shortage of supplies in Germany has reached such an extent.

The food Germany obtained from Eastern Europe did not effectively alleviate the famine problem at home because transportation was a big problem. A lot of Ukrainian wheat was stored at the station until it rotted, and there were not enough railway cars to transport the wheat back to Germany.

This winter, the bread of ordinary people in Berlin is still made of sawdust and potato peels, coated with a layer of chalk powder as flour.

All the cats and dogs in the city disappeared at once because they all went into the citizens' kitchens. Even in the kitchens of some wealthy families, there was little milk and beef. In the major arsenals, workers' strikes broke out one after another.

However, the German military and police did not dare to use tough measures against the arsenal workers - blood had been shed, but there was no effect, and the arsenal's production efficiency was getting lower and lower.

Even if the workers were arrested, considering that the workers in the arsenal were all skilled and experienced workers, they had to be released back to work in the factory under the strong request of the General Staff.

The wave of strikes thus began to spread uncontrollably.

The Social Democratic Party, the only party that could slightly restrain the strike activities, especially the center-left wing of the Social Democratic Party, naturally saw its political status increase sharply. The imperial authorities also became increasingly cautious about the left wing of the Social Democratic Party and related trade unions that led the strike.