Chapter 70: Battlefield 'Leisure Time” (2)

Two officers started pretending to look at the scenery.

Shit, this won’t become a famous meme in the future, will it? I don’t want anything like that!

To hide his embarrassment, he asked Yegorov, “Can the Imperial Guard get specialized equipment?”

"Yes, rainproof cloaks, very useful in the muddy season and when it snows heavily. Then there’s the Tokarev Model 8 rifle.”

In this time and space, the Tokarev semi-automatic rifle was standardized in Jules 908, hence the Model 8 designation.

Submachine guns were only suitable for close combat; theoretically, the Tokarev semi-automatics had an advantage over submachine guns in open terrain.

Prosen’s regular infantry was still pulling bolts, so the firepower advantage brought by the Tokarev would allow the Imperial Guard to have a better middle-distance advantage over the Prosen Army.

Theoretically, that’s the case, but since Prosen Army infantry squads generally organized around a machine gun, a squad with one machine gun, the advantage of the Tokarev over bolt-action rifles would be negligible.

Still, having an advantage was always good. Wang Zhong now dreamed of getting more good equipment for his troops.

Although the outcome of a war does not depend on the superiority of equipment, having good equipment is certainly better than using poor equipment, as it can reduce a lot of losses.

Wang Zhong then asked, “So when can we receive these Tokarevs?”

Pavlov jokingly said, “The bullets have already been transported here, we’re just missing the guns and the people to use them.”

Wang Zhong rubbed his forehead; these past few days, he had experienced the chaos brought by the front collapsing.

The good news was that everything was recovering, the bad news was that it wasn’t recovering fast enough.

Wang Zhong continued pacing on the platform.

Monk Yeca Neiko then said to Pavlov, “I’d rather have the men replenished quickly than the guns. The barracks are so empty and quiet, it’s so silent at night that you might even have nightmares.”

The orders given to Wang Zhong did not specify the scale of the Rocossov combat group but, because the leader of the troops was a brigadier general, the local logistics department allocated barracks based on the standard for a brigade.

The large base could simultaneously accommodate three thousand people, as well as their assigned vehicles, ammunition, and fuel.

However, Wang Zhong’s group had fewer than two hundred people in total, with only fifty-five infantrymen completely uninjured.

Of all the troops that had retreated from Ronied, only their group had arrived.

It was unclear whether the other scattered soldiers were fighting guerrilla warfare, had been captured, or had been shot by the Tribunal, but in any case, they had not come here.

After all the servicemen with minor injuries had been admitted to the recovery center of the battlefield hospital, the vast camp housed only fifty-five fully intact people, plus various other logistical personnel, such as the field cooking team and field laundry team, totaling just over three hundred people, which made the place incredibly empty.

Losonov nodded, his expression exceedingly haggard.

By then, the decelerating train glided into the platform and slowly came to a stop.

The people on the train immediately sprung into action, lifting one wounded soldier after another off the train.

There were no lightly wounded soldiers, probably because all the light casualties had remained at the fronts to continue fighting.

The doctors fanned out, examining each wounded soldier lined up on the platform, and placed classification tags on their chests.

Each doctor was followed by a nurse whose sole duty was to administer anesthetics to those tagged “abandon.”

The stretcher teams continually carried the wounded tagged for priority treatment onto the trucks.

Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion, as precise as machinery, all faces expressionless.

Wang Zhong also watched all this expressionlessly.

All his recent idle thoughts about the battlefield had been washed away.

It was just an illusion; the cruel war was still ongoing.

At that moment, a wounded soldier tagged “abandon” reached out towards the direction of Wang Zhong and the others: “Father!”

Yeca Neiko walked toward him, taking out his old, faded holy book as he did so.

Kneeling down, he took the severely wounded soldier’s hand and placed it on the cover of the book, whispering, “Speak, child. I am listening, and so is He.”

Perhaps the anesthetic was taking effect; Wang Zhong couldn’t hear the soldier’s voice. He could only see the Monk bend down and bring his ear close to the soldier’s mouth.

Looking at all this, Sofya suddenly said, “You know? The wounded in the sanatorium all like female nurses, but these dying men trust Monks like Yeca Neiko more. Even though as a Hymn Monk, I am more favored.”

Wang Zhong did not respond.

By now, Yegorov had already made a round by the wounded and came over, whispering to Wang Zhong, “Lots of bayonet wounds. Yesterday was all shrapnel and blast injuries. Today there’s been an increase in gunshot and bayonet wounds.”

Wang Zhong replied, “Close combat has begun. It’s unclear whether Bogdanovka could truly hold out for fifteen days. We must hurry.”

"The problem is, even if we hurry, we can’t get more people, the reinforcements are all headed to Bogdanovka,” said Yegorov, frowning. “It’s as if we’ve been forgotten.”

At that moment, the train station master came out of the dispatch room and shouted to Wang Zhong and the others, “Your Excellency the Brigadier General, the train you’ve been waiting for will arrive soon, but under these circumstances, it can only stop at the more distant dispatch platform. Please take the trouble to walk there, the pedestrian bridge is that way!”