Arc of Fire

Grigori pulled the bayonet out of the enemy’s body and looked around.

The city behind him was on fire, and the Prussian tanks in front of him were also on fire.

The artillery positions were on fire, the forest was on fire.

Grigori held the long bayonet as if he were a knight with a sword, facing the soaring flames.

At this moment, a messenger riding a horse came galloping from the city: “The whole army is to break out to the north! Leave enough ammunition for the seriously wounded! The whole army is to break out to the north! Leave enough ammunition for the seriously wounded!”

Grigori said in a deep voice, “You heard that.”

His voice, like the sound of the mother river, wasn’t loud, yet no one could ignore it, easily piercing through the crackling flames.

Grigori: “Those who can walk, stand up; those who can’t, please raise your hands—we still have grenades at least.”

In the piles of corpses in the forest, quite a few people stood up one after another, each looking like a demon back from hell.

Grigori: “They will not treat the seriously wounded, and those who stay don’t need to worry too much; we will soon join you. Very soon.”

At that moment, an explosion sounded from the artillery position behind them, startling many, with some even dropping down to the ground.

Grigori: “Don’t be scared, that’s just the artillerymen blowing up the heavy guns, since we can’t let the enemy capture them and fire at us. When they blow up the ammunition later, there will be a big firework show! But only those who stay will get to see it.

“Living people, follow me! Let’s go!”

Grigori, obviously not a morale booster since he only had a tenth-grade education, yet his figure was persuasive and could command the respect of old soldiers who had survived hell.

A line of people passed through the forest, handing grenades to every seriously wounded soldier who reached out their hands.

————

On height 153.

The Prussians’ night attack had been repelled.

Colonel Eugene dragged an empty ammunition box over to use as a stool, stabbing the miner’s pick, covered in blood and brain matter, into the ground.

A machine gun roared beside him, pouring fire on the retreating Prussian Army.

Most of the machine gun emplacements on height 153 had been destroyed by continuous heavy artillery bombardment, leaving only the regimental headquarters fortification with a roof, which is why it became the most intense battleground at dawn.

Captain Andrei also pulled over an ammunition box to sit on and stuck his bloodied sapper’s shovel next to him, saying to Colonel Eugene, “The sapper’s shovel is more useful than that thing; its sharp edge cuts a Prussian ghost down with every shovel.”

Colonel Eugene took out a cigarette and, while fumbling for a match, answered, “I’m not used to it. This fellow works well for me; I know exactly how to wield it with less effort and how to smash solid rock. Where are my matches?”

Captain Andrei took out matches and struck one, leaning in.

Colonel Eugene lit his cigarette, took a deep drag, leaned back against a cracked wall, let out a long breath, and then asked, “What does the division headquarters say?”

Captain Andrei turned to glance at the phone, with the receiver broken in half: “Don’t know, the phone lines must be cut now, and with gunfire still in the city, I guess it’ll be a while before a signal corpsman comes to fix it.”

Colonel Eugene nodded.

Just then, the machine-gun fire stopped, and the colonel asked, “What happened?”

“Can’t see those Prussian devils anymore,” the gunner said. “It’s too dark; I was just shooting bursts whenever I saw something move.”

“Let it be; your gun barrel is smoking hot. Quickly change the cooling water,” Captain Andrei said.

The machine gunner and his assistant quickly pulled the gun back and began changing the cooling water.

Colonel Eugene watched them work, asking, “What happens next? Should we send someone to make contact with division headquarters?”

“Might as well ask the tank crews if they still have a working radio.”

Right after he spoke, Major Olof entered: “We’ve received a radio call—the division headquarters has decided to break out to the north, ordering all units to destroy equipment, burn documents, and leave enough ammunition for the immobile seriously wounded.”

Colonel Eugene: “Is this telling the seriously wounded to cover our retreat? Isn’t that a bit…”

Captain Andrei: “The enemy will kill our wounded without treatment. Because we are considered inferior people, unworthy of wasting precious medicine. If they treat you, it’s to show the mercy of a superior race.”

Colonel Eugene didn’t answer; instead, he just clenched the cigarette in his mouth and took a heavy puff.

The tip of the cigarette brightened, turning most of it quickly to ash.

Then Colonel Eugene threw the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out.

The big puff made his nostrils spout white smoke like a bubbling kettle for quite a while before it stopped.

He then stood up, leaning on his miner’s pick, leaving the bunker with weary steps, walking along the trench to see the almost entirely wounded soldiers.

“Soldiers! The division headquarters has given the order to breakout. Two kinds of people can stay here: those who are already dead and those who are about to die.

“They say the Prussians won’t treat the seriously wounded well, but we have no strength to take you with us, so we can only leave you with enough bullets and grenades.

“I am a miner! I can’t predict the course of war, so I can’t assure you that we will definitely win. The only thing I can do is tell you what I used to say to my fellow miners.”

Colonel Eugene paused because he saw a severely wounded soldier sitting in the trench, calmly watching him.

The colonel patted the soldier’s shoulder: “This land treats everyone equally; it produces milk to nourish us, and, in the end, it will also become the final resting place for each of us.

“Do not consider being buried in the mines a sad affair; Kazarlia’s black earth is like a mother, and you are just returning to the embrace of your mother.”

The soldier in front of the colonel suddenly hummed a song, an ancient one.

A song almost every Kazarlian knew.

It told of a time long ago, when riders on the black earth resisted conquerors from distant lands.

They galloped across the grasslands, fell in the trial of fire and sword, and now sleep in the dark soil of their homeland.

Their bodies were buried beneath the wild grass, swept into the Mother River.

And that great river, called the Mother River, flowed on in silence.

————

To the north of the city, the sound of gunfire merged into one, clearly the enemy infantry intended to take the forest position by night.

Additionally, there was gunfire from both the east and west sides of the city, with the most intense gunfire coming from the direction of the pastures.

The two battalions of the Guardian Army had obviously encountered the enemy.

Wang Zhong stepped out of the headquarters to see the stables had been destroyed, but Bucephalus was unharmed, still munching on the scattered hay below.

Wang Zhong pointed at the horse, “Saddle it up! Let the lightly wounded ride!”

No sooner had he spoken than tank number 422 drove into the yard of the division headquarters, its outer armor scarred, and its flag on the antenna reduced to half.

The driver’s hatch was nowhere to be seen, and Beliyakov’s head was exposed, grinning when he saw Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong hopped onto the tank, turned to pull Nelly up, then climbed into his exclusive position atop the turret.

He had just put on the headset when he heard Alexandria say, “You finally made it, I’ve been run ragged, being a gunner is far easier.”

Wang Zhong didn’t answer him but shouted to the bustling crowd in the division headquarters, “Let the lightly wounded and women get on the tanks! Give all vehicles to the women!”

A woman beneath shouted, “We can walk! Let the lightly wounded sit!”

“Right!”

“General, you should let the lightly wounded sit!”

Nelly, upon hearing she should get off, was seized by Wang Zhong, “Let the children ride the tanks and cars then! And the praying hands, the ears of the Monk!”

Nelly, “I’m not a child.”

“You stay put,” Wang Zhong said.

This time, no one objected to Wang Zhong’s proposal, and all the children of the city were put onto the tanks.

The city’s only surviving children.

Some of the children held submachine guns, already bearing the expressions of warriors.

At that moment, a thought struck Wang Zhong’s heart, and he turned to ask, “Has anyone seen Liu Xia—Captain Ludmila Vasilyevna?”

No one responded.

Pavlov also came out of the headquarters, tossing a pile of documents into a burning fire, “Damn, we spent so much time making these reports, and they have to be redone. Professor! Where are you going?”

He grabbed the only level-six clerk of the headquarters.

The old man turned around, “It’s the educational commissar! And now you should call me by my rank! My rank!”

“Alright, colonel, where are you heading?”

The old man, “To get weapons!”

Pavlov picked up a Tokarev from a guard and handed it to the old man, “Alright, follow the troop, my professor!”

“It’s colonel! Where’s the troop?”

Pavlov pointed towards the troop of the headquarters lining up.

The old man then strode off briskly, not at all like an elder.

Pavlov, “General! You have to lead the way! Let’s move!”

Wang Zhong nodded and pressed the transmitter on his throat, “Move out! Beliyakov, follow my directions! Let’s give the enemies in the city a taste of their own medicine!”

“Are you sure you want to take so many children with you to fight the enemy?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll crush the enemy quickly,” Wang Zhong replied confidently.

The tank charged out of the division headquarters’ courtyard, speeding down the streets turned red by the flames.

Suddenly, a figure dashed out front, the silver-white hair sparkling under the firelight.

Wang Zhong, “Liu Xia! Over here!”

Ludmila spotted the tank and ran over, then got pulled up by the children on the vehicle.

As soon as she entered the turret, she planted an enthusiastic kiss on Wang Zhong.

Huh?

Is this…appropriate?

Tears marked the corners of Ludmila’s eyes, and after the lengthy kiss, she said, “Enemy tanks have entered the city from the northeast, the Guardian Army is fighting fiercely with them! Hurry to reinforce! The Guardian Army needs backup!”

Wang Zhong took Ludmila by the shoulders, “We’re about to break out. A breakout requires a rearguard.”

Ludmila paused, “Huh? You… you’re abandoning them? Like Loktov did?”

This time, Wang Zhong replied with certainty, “This is to preserve more of the forces. These are troops that have emerged from the trial of fire and sword; they must be saved. One day, this spark will become the blaze that consumes the Prosen Empire.”

He offered no further explanation, and tank number 422 did not stop moving.

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