Aldo Raine sat on a rock in front of a group of soldiers who were caught by the bastards. He grinned smugly and clutched his hunting knife in his hand. Aldo admired the cut on the enemies forehead that he had so carefully carved a minute ago. He heard a noise in the bushes, jumped up and instantly turned around. Behind him, he saw an unknown figure lying on the ground. He pointed a knife at the stranger. And these words came out of his lips Who the hell are you? His voice sounded harsh