War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1912 So Here We Came

Having just returned home from her business trip to Lake Kaban in Kazan, Sui Sui generously gave everyone two days off, claiming she was tired and needed to rest.

Of course, even so, one of Hela's teams remained in the dormitory building assigned to them by the neighboring brewery, ready for any emergencies.

The pink-clad girls from Baba Yaga, who also lived in the same dormitory building, didn't give themselves a break either.

However, they did not stay in their individual dormitories like the group of Hela girls upstairs.

These 14 young, pretty, and brainless girls easily squeezed into an armored van, and, in a severely overloaded manner, rode in the same vehicle to the shooting range outside Jima's village.

They weren't there to play around. Instead, under the guidance of gang members who had received combat engineer training, they diligently practiced various tactical maneuvers, target practice, and even drone operation.

No one knows how these mascot-like girls changed their ways, but they are more serious than ever before.

The other girls were much more at ease. Perhaps because the food in Mongolia was really not to their liking, at Lu Xinda's suggestion, they all went to a Chinese hot pot restaurant they frequented, including another group of girls named Haila, and comforted their stomachs, which had suffered a great injustice, with plates of beef rolls.

As for Sui Sui, this girl has been acting strangely ever since she came back. She keeps muttering to herself while writing and drawing on her tablet, and every now and then she makes video conference calls to her accomplices back in China.

Seeing that there was nothing for him to do, Wei Ran simply picked up the G43 semi-automatic sniper rifle again and drove to the shooting range outside Ji Ma's village.

"Mr. Victor, the weapons and shooting range you requested have been prepared for you," a gang member who had been informed in advance said as Wei Ran got out of the car.

"Thank you"

As Wei Ran spoke, he looked up at the fairly bright sky, and then at the target position he had prepared for himself.

It was around one or two in the afternoon, and the sun was still at its highest point, unwilling to set.

The shooting range in front of me, which I reserved specifically for myself, was converted from an east-west forest firebreak. There are retaining walls more than ten meters high at both ends. The farthest target is located more than 2,500 meters away, while the other targets are closer in 50-meter increments.

"I'm sorry to have disrupted your business," Wei Ran said apologetically. There were more than a dozen shooting positions at this range, but they were all cleared out at the moment.

Please don't say that.

The gang member in charge of reception quickly said, "Today is a weekday, so there are usually few guests. Besides you, there are only the girls from Baba Yaga at the shooting range next door."

"That's good," Wei Ran said casually. "If it's convenient, could you help me find a target observer?"

"I'll do it," the gang member immediately volunteered and took on the job.

He took out a pack of cigarettes from China as a small gift and gave it to the other party. Wei Ran casually found a place to sit down, set up the G43 he had brought but had not yet attached a scope, and began to snipe at the conspicuous fixed targets in a pattern of starting from near and gradually moving away.

In the current environment, using iron sights, Wei Ran has a high chance of hitting the white steel targets at 300 meters. Beyond 300 meters, it mostly depends on luck.

After attaching a scope to this semi-automatic weapon from World War II, Wei Ran began the arduous task of calibrating the gun.

After a few sporadic shots, with the help of his gang members who were acting as target observers, he resumed shooting from close range to long range with the gun in his hand.

From the easy 200 meters to the 500 meters, even if he couldn't hit the target every time, at most one out of ten bullets would miss, and all the misses would happen on the 500-meter target.

Continuing from 500 meters to 600 meters, without pursuing speed, Wei Ran can still maintain the same level of accuracy.

However, starting from 650 meters, the bullet impact points became scattered, and at a distance of 800 meters, only two or three out of ten shots would hit the target.

After reloading and firing a round from a distance to close range, Wei Ran switched to a Mauser rifle with a scope that his gang member had prepared for him, and started shooting again from the target at a distance of 100 meters.

Compared to the semi-automatic rifle he had just used, Wei Ran achieved even better results with this gun, hitting the steel chest target with 6 out of 10 bullets at a distance of 800 meters.

Of course, the improvement in hit rate has nothing to do with shooting skills, but mainly comes from the natural superiority of bolt-action rifles over semi-automatic rifles in terms of accuracy.

After firing another round, Wei Ran removed the scope from the Mauser rifle and started firing again from the nearest target towards the distance.

However, this time, his longest effective hit was still at a distance of 300 meters.

Beyond this distance, luck still plays a role. This time, it has nothing to do with the accuracy of the gun itself, but rather with his own shooting skills.

Having roughly figured out his accuracy limits and comfort zone, Wei Ran reattached the scope to his Mauser rifle and calibrated it. Then, carrying the G43, he left the shooting range and drove to his private campsite in the forest.

He slowly set up the tent, but this time he didn't light a fire. He simply set up a folding bed and a folding table, then picked up his G43 rifle and crawled inside.

Turning on the camping lamp hanging overhead, Wei Ran placed the rifle he had brought on the table, then took out a P38 pistol that had been delivered along with the rifle and placed it on the table as well.

With everything ready, he first stuck a pre-prepared sticky note on the table, then took a deep breath and took out the metal notebook.

Amidst the rustling of pages turning, the metal quill pen this time drew a silhouette of a figure carrying a rifle in one hand and a P38 pistol in the other.

There appeared to be a person lying on the ground where the P38 pistol he was raising was aimed.

As he waited quietly, the quill pen wrote line after line of text:
Character Identity: Wei Ran, an internationalist fighter

Return Mission: Escape the encirclement, take at least two photos, snipe more than 10 enemies, and deliver Dragan and his letter home.

Language Mission: Join the Expendables with Dragan and kill at least two enemies.
Internationalist fighter?

Wei Ran stared in astonishment at the words on the page, his vision swallowed by the intense white light.

In the white light, he also saw the tools he could use this time.

The first items found were Rolleiflex double-sided counterfeit oil and three oil drums obtained from the North African battlefield.

Next, in the white light, he saw complete sets of Soviet cloaks, German marching boots, pens, entrenching tools, and British P44 canteens.

He was also given sailors' bags and gas mask pouches from the Johnston, as well as horsehair pouches from the Spanish battlefield, and even the newly acquired wooden crate containing a hundred or so flatbreads with fillings.

Fortunately, there's food and drink available so we won't go hungry.
Wei Ran breathed a slight sigh of relief, letting the white light gradually dissipate, and he gradually smelled the damp, earthy scent.

As he waited patiently, his vision gradually cleared, and this time he found himself in a trench.

I habitually observed the surrounding environment first. This trench seemed to be located at the junction of the hillside meadow and the woodland. It was basically hidden in the woods, but as long as you peeked out, you could see the slope outside the woods.

As far as the eye could see, there were many militiamen with weapons and a few soldiers in uniform sitting in the slightly muddy trenches. The rest were mostly civilians, men, women, children and the elderly, and even livestock.

He looked down and examined himself. He was wearing dark tan overalls with a chest pocket, an extra leather belt around his waist with two German wooden-handled grenades clipped to his waist, and a VZ.24 rifle slung over his shoulder.

On his left and right sides, there were soldiers or militiamen dressed similarly to himself everywhere.

The weapons they carried were a motley collection, including black powder shotguns, Breda 35 machine guns (which were far from reliable), and even German MG34 machine guns.

But the language these people used was unfamiliar to him and he couldn't understand it.

Looking outside again, I saw another position near the foot of the mountain outside the woods. Judging from the standoff, it must be enemy territory.

Back in the trench, Wei Ran took off his rifle and gently pulled back the bolt to check it.

The gun had bullets in its magazine and chamber, and they were in pretty good condition, which relieved him a little.

He patted himself down and found that in the breast pocket of his overalls, besides a few envelopes containing white paper, there were two packs of bullets totaling ten rounds, plus the two hand grenades tucked into his waistband. This was all the weapons he had on the surface.

So the next question is, who is Dragan?
After glancing again at the soldiers not far to his left and right, Wei Ran simply picked up his gun, stood up, and crouched down to walk a distance along the communication trench to the back of the trench.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, he discovered that it harbored a large number of civilians and wounded soldiers who had received little to no effective medical care.

Of course, there were also livestock such as cattle and sheep, as well as some horse-drawn carts carrying belongings.

here it is.
Wei Ran found a secluded spot and sat down near the corner of the trench, examining the props he had taken from the metal notebook while analyzing the information he had gathered.

That quick glance out from the front lines confirmed that it was a canyon, and considering the civilians hiding behind the trenches, he now had a rough idea of ​​what was going on.

Could it be the Kozala breakout battle?
While guessing, Wei Ran gave up on taking out the wooden box containing the sesame seed cakes with vegetables.

Fortunately, almost all the "containers" given this time were full, which is undoubtedly good news.

The bad news is that, for some reason, the box containing the sesame cakes cannot be retrieved at all.

Too lazy to investigate the box, Wei Ran carefully recalled the details of the Kozala breakout battle, then picked up his gun again, jumped back into the trench, and returned to his original position.

In just a short while, a soldier who wasn't particularly tall, looked to be around 30 years old, and dressed similarly to himself had appeared.

“Wei, where did you just go?” the soldier asked in Spanish.

"Going to pee."

Wei Ran casually replied in Spanish, while also noticing that the other person was wearing a red triangular star on his chest.

Did he also participate in the Spanish Civil War? As an internationalist fighter?
Just as Wei Ran was lost in thought, the soldier asked, "I remember you told me before that you served as a postman when you were in the International Brigade?"

"Ah, indeed." Wei Ran nodded, then asked casually, "Are you going to send a letter?"

“I really want to write a letter home,” the soldier said. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

“I’m a postman, of course I have these things.”

As Wei Ran spoke, he opened the breast pocket of his overalls, took out an envelope containing a letter, and handed it to the other person. Then, under the cover of the breast pocket, he took out a fountain pen from a metal notebook and handed it to the other person as well.

"I knew I'd made the right choice coming to you."

As he spoke, the soldier took off his Mauser rifle and leaned it against the side. Then he took the German mess kit hanging from his waist and used it as a writing desk, laid the letter paper on it, and began to write with a fountain pen.

"Can I see your gun?" Wei Ran asked.

"Of course you can, but there are bullets in the chamber, so be careful. Also, absolutely do not touch the scope of that gun."

The soldier who was writing the letter spoke in Spanish, which was interspersed with a few grammatical errors.

"I'm not a novice."

As Wei Ran spoke, he leaned over and picked up the other person's weapon, while also glancing at what the other person had written on the letter.

Unfortunately, the other party wrote in Spanish, or even any language he knew.

What language do you use?

Wei Ran asked bluntly, while also examining the Mauser rifle equipped with a scope in his hand.

The stock of this gun is clearly engraved with the tricolor flag of the International Brigade, and it is painted with three colors of paint.

The letter writer paused, then replied vaguely, "Serbian. I'm Serbian, so of course I speak Serbian." "I can't understand it, so I'm a little curious."

As Wei Ran spoke, he moved the other person's weapon back to its original position.

“You should learn Serbian,” the soldier said.

"I'll learn it quickly."

While giving his answer confidently, Wei Ran also took out his Rolleiflex twin-lens reflex camera and took a picture of the other person.

"If I'm still alive after we escape Kozara, I'll teach you."

The soldier was writing and talking at the same time, completely unaware that Wei Ran had taken a picture of him.

As expected! It really was the Kozala breakout battle!

Wei Ran tensed up slightly after confirming his guess.

So, was this soldier Dragan? Did he also serve in the International Brigade? No, it should be said that he also served in the Spanish Civil War?
Just then, a young man who looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old ran over from a distance, braving his back, and approached Wei Ran and the soldier, saying something in what appeared to be Serbian.

Although Wei Ran couldn't understand Serbian, the young man's initial shout sounded similar to "Dragan."

After a brief exchange, the young man continued running along the trench, while the soldier, who appeared to be Dragan, resumed writing a letter on paper.

However, the brief moment of peace on the battlefield was quickly shattered—the enemy below the mountain began their attack!

Although Wei Ran couldn't understand what the people around him were saying, he realized something just from the fact that everyone around him stood up and raised their guns.

Sure enough, when he peered out of the trench, he saw that the enemy at the foot of the mountain had already started climbing up the mountain with their troops in formation.

"Dragan," Wei Ran tried to whisper in Spanish.

"What's wrong?" the soldier who had been writing the letter replied in a low voice. He was indeed Dragan.

"Do you have any extra bullets?" Wei Ran asked casually, making up an excuse.

I have five shots left.

As Dragan spoke, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of bullets, and handed it to Wei Ran.

Wei Ran waved to the other person and handed them a pack of bullets, saying, "I'm worried you might not have enough bullets."

"Thank you"

Dragan responded loudly, but did not take the bullet from Wei Ran's hand. He simply put the pack of bullets he had taken out back into his pocket.

Seeing this, Wei Ran, who was just making an excuse, didn't insist and put the bullets back into his pocket.

But at that moment, none of them fired; they were all waiting for the order to fire.

In this anxious wait, the enemy outside the trenches drew ever closer. The militia guerrillas inside the trenches also prepared various grenades to entertain their "guests."

Almost when the German soldiers were only fifty or sixty meters away from them, a loud shout finally came from afar, followed by the sound of submachine guns firing.

In an instant, the few machine guns and submachine guns that were on this trench line all began to suppress the enemy, and the other soldiers with various weapons also pulled the triggers.

"boom!"

Wei Ran simply aimed and pulled the trigger. At this point, the distance between the two was less than 100 meters, completely within his shooting comfort zone.

With a single shot, Wei Ran took down a German soldier who was about to set up a machine gun by the tree. As he crouched down, he chambered a round and glanced at Dragan beside him.

"boom!"

Just then, Dragan also fired a bullet, and like Wei Ran, he took advantage of the moment he crouched down to load a new bullet.

Without paying much attention to the other party, Wei Ran, who had stood up again, aimed at the same spot and pulled the trigger at a German soldier who had just picked up a machine gun.

"boom!"

With the second gunshot, the soldier fell asleep. The machine gun he had just picked up was thrown back onto the grass before he could even fire it.

Before all the bullets in the magazine were emptied, more and more enemies rushed up, and the people in the trenches put down their rifles and threw out the grenades they had prepared in advance.

"Boom boom boom boom"

In a series of explosions, many of the German soldiers who had launched the charge were killed or wounded. After the second round of grenades was thrown, the remaining soldiers were successfully driven away in the ensuing burst of fire.

"Go get your weapons!" Dragan said, already carrying his gun as he climbed out of the trench.

Wei Ran's reaction speed was equally fast; he had already climbed out of the trench before Dragan could even finish shouting his words.

They naturally wouldn't leave the forest to risk venturing onto the meadow a dozen meters away, but even so, the weapons and equipment delivered by the enemies who had just rushed into the forest were enough.

Running up to a corpse, Wei Ran first struck the body hard on the nose with the butt of his gun. Seeing that the body did not react, he then quickly began to loot the body's weapons.

The soldier was also using a Mauser rifle, and because of this, Wei Ran, who was extremely short of ammunition, simply unbuckled the other man's belt, took off his two leather ammunition pouches, and then took out two M39 grenades from his bag and stuffed them into his own trouser pocket.

Finally, Wei Ran took a pack of R6 cigarettes and a lighter from the German soldier and put them in his pocket. Then, he greedily took off the soldier's helmet and put it on his own head.

After replenishing his own ammunition and equipment, he picked up the other man's rifle and ran towards the second corpse.

In less than two minutes, accompanied by the sound of a whistle, everyone immediately ran back to the trench with their spoils.

Almost as soon as Wei Ran jumped into the trench, the rumble of artillery fire and the piercing whistling of shells echoed from the foot of the mountain.

"Look what I found!"

Dragan, who returned a little later, handed Wei Ran a Mauser rifle with a scope, saying, "It's yours!"

Thank you so much.
Wei Ran accepted the weapon with a sense of wanting to cry but having no tears. He would have preferred the other party to throw him an MP40 submachine gun; he really didn't want to fight a sniper battle.

Before the two could say anything more, a shell struck the base of a large tree not far away.

"careful!"

As Dragan shouted, he grabbed the young man he had seen before and pulled him into his arms, and they both fell to the ground without even touching Wei Ran.

Amidst the crashing sounds and gasps of the crowd, the large tree, struck by the shell, creaked and slammed onto the trench, forming a makeshift bridge. Several of its branches lashed at Wei Ran's buttocks like whips.

"Are you all alright?" Dragan asked.

"That's too good," Wei Ran grimaced as he rubbed his buttocks, while also looking at the other person.

Fortunately, both Dragan and the young man who had just jumped back into the trench and was pulled down by him were unharmed.

At this moment, the terrified young man first glanced at the fallen tree with a pale face, then touched his own body.
Only after confirming that he was not injured did he proudly raise the binoculars hanging around his neck and speak something in Serbian, which Wei Ran could not understand.

After Dragan added something, the young man cheered and ran along the trench to the back, taking Wei Ran, the captured weapons, and the Czech Mauser he had originally used with him.

Where did that young man come from?

Wei Ran tapped the tree trunk above his head with the butt of his rifle. Seeing that it didn't move, he felt relieved and leaned against the side of the trench to inspect the spoils Dragan had given him.

"His name is Milos, Milos Constantine."

Dragan pulled out the unfinished letter again, took out his pen, and wrote as he spoke, "It was the villagers from around here who fled into the mountains with us."

It's him?

Wei Ran suddenly realized that this Milos was the owner of the G43 in later generations.

But it was only 1942, and it was already a miracle that G43 could even be drawn on paper.

Before he could ask any more questions, artillery shells from down the mountain rained down on them, forcing him and Dragan to lie down again and take cover under a fallen tree trunk.

After a somewhat long wait, the German artillery fire stopped. Seeing that they had no intention of continuing the attack, Wei Ran immediately began to check the sniper rifle he had just obtained, while Dragan took out his pen and paper again and continued to write his letter home.

“Wei, do you have any extra envelopes?” Dragan asked after finishing writing the letter.

"Of course"

As Wei Ran spoke, he took an envelope out of his breast pocket and handed it to the other person.

"Thank you"

After Dragan thanked him, he put the letter he had written into an envelope with an address written on it and sealed it with some sap from the tree trunk.

Then, he folded the envelope in half, stuffed it into a second envelope, and sealed it again.

Seeing Wei Ran looking at him with a puzzled expression, Dragan smiled, put the letter into his lunchbox, and returned the pen to Wei Ran, explaining, "I plan to send this letter home after the war is over."

"Send it as soon as you have the chance."

Wei Ran sighed, “I know another internationalist fighter who made a similar decision to you.”

"he died?"

“He’s dead,” Wei Ran sighed. “He died in Spain.”

"I should have died in Spain too."

Dragan sighed, but simply hung the lunchbox back on his waist without mentioning whether to send it out again.

"Which battalion were you in before?" Wei Ran asked.

"Dobrovsky Brigade," Dragan said.

"Fight for your and our freedom!" Wei Ran and the other side shouted the same slogan at the same time.

"yes"

Dragan patted the fallen tree. "So here we are."

“Yes,” Wei Ran sighed, “that’s why we came.”