War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 2012 Entering the Camp
I just arrived at the open-air bar when I saw you drive away.

As the American soldier who had caught up spoke, he threw his bicycle onto the back seat of Wei Ran's car, then jumped into the passenger seat and asked in a low voice, "Did you get any information for me?"

"What news?" Wei Ran asked blankly.

"You actually forgot?"

The newcomer angrily tossed a cigar to Wei Ran, saying, "You're not lying to me, are you?"

You want to know too much.

As Wei Ran spoke, he seemingly casually glanced at the name tag hanging around the other person's neck.

This soldier, who bears a striking resemblance to Jim Carrey in his youth, is named Arthur Milton Cohen, and his job title on the name tag is Supply Manager for the Tinian Town Club.

However, it was inevitable that when he saw the other person's face, he would subconsciously think of the green-faced psychopath from The Mask.

Shaking off the absurd images in his mind, Wei Ran gently pressed the accelerator and turned the car around. "What I mean is, you have to ask me one thing at a time, otherwise I won't know where to begin."

"It's my fault, I was too impatient."

The supplies manager was quite good-natured. "Are you really capable of sneaking into that secluded area on the west side of the North Airport?"

"It's not a big problem, but we need to find an opportunity."

Wei Ran replied vaguely, "It depends on how difficult the task you need me to do is."

"I just want to know how there could be a separate club there that is not under my jurisdiction or control."

Arthur said angrily, "Even a blind man can see that the war is about to end, and I suspect that someone wants to steal the fruits of my hard work over the years."

"This is truly absurd."

Wei Ran couldn't help but sigh. This sounded remarkably similar to what the United States did at the end of World War II, when it was reaping the benefits.

"It's truly absurd, utterly absurd."

Arthur's tone grew increasingly indignant. "Just two days ago, that pitifully small club snatched 'Since You Left' from me, which I had worked so hard to secure. I had already promised everyone that I wouldn't play Casablanca anymore; everyone was already tired of it."

"I want to see which bastard crawled out of whose asshole he came from, daring to steal supplies from my hands!"

"Just because of these?" Wei Ran looked at the other person suspiciously.

"Of course, it's just a cause."

You'd better tell the truth.

Wei Ran stopped the car again and reminded him, "This is related to whether I have a chance to sneak in."

That's exactly what I meant.

"let it go"

Wei Ran said in a feigned indifference, "If you don't tell the truth, I will be in great danger."

"Like you said, the war will be over soon, and I don't want to be court-martialed as a spy at a time like this."

"I'm not a spy!"

As expected, Arthur was startled. After looking around, he finally sighed and explained in a low voice towards the northwest, "It's because of Claire, the logistics assistant Claire Evelyn Russell."

The logistics assistant who was only responsible for brewing coffee and tidying up the tableware.

Even if I told you, you wouldn't know. You've definitely never seen her. She doesn't need to chat and dance with the soldiers.

"I can smell the sour stench of love," Wei Ran said jokingly.

"Sour and rancid smell? If you mean coffee grounds, then yes, it does smell sour and rancid."

Arthur complained, "The coffee grounds in this godforsaken place spoil in just half a day; they really do smell sour and rancid."

"Arthur, don't change the subject."

Wei Ran suggested, "Let's talk about that coffee girl instead!"

Upon hearing this, Arthur, whose thoughts had been exposed, paused for a moment before finally explaining, "Since April of this year, when a separate camp was established there and a separate club was set up, Claire has been transferred there."

As he spoke, Arthur pulled a metal cigarette case from his jacket pocket, took out a photograph from it, and showed it to Wei Ran. "I haven't seen Claire since then. I don't know if she's still in that isolated barracks, or even if she's still alive."

She took the photo Arthur handed her; the small, color photo showed a blonde girl in a floral dress.

Behind her, as the backdrop for the photo, is a vast farm and two cows that appear to be mating.

"So you need me to go inside and see if she's still alive?" Wei Ran asked as he handed the photo back to the other person.

Objectively speaking, the blonde girl in the photo is indeed quite pretty, belonging to the typical American sweetheart style of this era.

"That's right!"

As Arthur spoke, he quickly pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Wei Ran. "Give her this letter, and then tell me if she's alright. That will satisfy me."

"That's all?" Wei Ran asked.

"That's all"

Arthur said painfully, "I'm so worried about her. I'm worried that she might have fallen in love with one of the soldiers in that camp. I'm worried."

"Okay, wait a minute before you worry."

Wei Ran wasn't there to witness their romance. "If she's doing well, how should I let you know?"

“Let her figure out a way to get another film coordinated; she knows which one to coordinate,” Arthur said.

"No problem," Wei Ran nodded, then looked at the other person expectantly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Arthur looked at Wei Ran with confusion, "I've already given you all the cigars and cigarettes I'm entitled to."

"I mean, do you want to make a bet?" Wei Ran, who had been giving the blind man a flirtatious look, had no choice but to ask.

"A bet? What kind of bet?"

Arthur looked at Wei Ran warily. "I'm not going to bet anything about Claire. Are you even going to get in?"

"Of course I can get in," Wei Ran said confidently.

Although the American soldiers of this era were much better in quality than those of later generations, their technological level was far inferior. If he couldn't even get into this, wouldn't he have wasted his life?

"You better not lie to me"

Only then did Arthur pull out a stack of letters tied together with hemp rope in a cross pattern from his pocket. "These are Claire's letters. Remember to give them to her when you see her."

"Don't worry," Wei Ran put the letters together with the one the other party had just given him and stuffed them under the case of beer in the back row.

"Okay, stop wasting time."

Arthur urged, "Hurry back to the club, the person you're picking up has arrived."

"The person I'm supposed to pick up? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

As Wei Ran spoke, he quickly stepped on the gas and drove the jeep back to the bar they had just visited.

"I came here specifically to pursue you."

Arthur pointed innocently to the bicycle behind him, "But you were driving too fast."

Damn, he's a living dad!

Wei Ran cursed under his breath. He was almost certain that this little mishap was a deliberate scheme orchestrated by the author!

In other words, if he hadn't driven away, he probably would have sat in that bar until the end of the Cold War, and the person he was waiting for would never have come.

As he drove back to the bar entrance on the floor, he saw from a distance a short, flat-nosed old man with a prominent widow's peak.

He was fairly certain the other person was a reporter, because he was already sitting at an outdoor table interviewing an American soldier.

However, behind him, there were two American soldiers guarding him, who also helped him carry two huge leather suitcases.

"Hey! Victor! You've finally arrived!"

The old man greeted Wei Ran warmly upon seeing him, then enthusiastically introduced him to the two soldiers behind him, "This is my nephew Victor. He seems to be ground crew here, right, Victor?"

“That’s right, Uncle Lawrence.”

Wei Ran greeted the other person warmly. He recognized him as well. The old man was William Leonard Lawrence, the only "frontline war correspondent" who participated in the entire process of atomic bomb development and combat. Even earlier, he had participated in the Russian Revolution when he was young and immigrated to the United States as a result.

Wei Ran was able to recognize him because this person was truly outstanding and unique in the journalism industry.

From the conversation, he also roughly learned that his role this time seemed to be the other party's nephew, which was a pretty good identity.

“Soldier, from now on you will serve as Mr. Lawrence’s assistant.”

One of the American soldiers said with a serious expression, "Also, you were just late."

"Sorry, I'm going to fill up the car with gas." Wei Ran gave a perfunctory salute and, as he spoke, jumped out of the car and eagerly took the suitcases from the two soldiers, placing them on the hood.

While he was busy securing the two suitcases with straps, the 57-year-old Tauri reporter had already skillfully gotten into the passenger seat of the jeep, while the two soldiers sat in the back.

Once back in the driver's seat, Wei Ran knew perfectly well that in the real world, or rather, in a history without his own, this titan of a journalist would never have needed him to come here to pick him up.

It's unlikely that the other party has a nephew who works in ground support. Even if they did, they wouldn't come here specifically to pick him up just to be his assistant—they don't need assistants at all.

That's why Wei Ran acted arrogantly, relying on his understanding of this uncle, and didn't take the two soldiers behind him seriously at all.

Of course, just to be on the safe side, he didn't even look at Arthur, the supplies manager, who was leaning on his bicycle like an "incompetent husband" staring blankly at him, unable to get a word in edgewise.

"Victor, how long have you been working here on ground staff?" Mr. Lawrence asked warmly.

"I've been here since they started building the airport on this island."

Wei Ran chuckled strangely at this point, adding with a mischievous grin, "My earliest job was as a bulldozer driver."

"So the legend of that reckless Marshall in your letter to me is true?"

Lawrence pressed on with great interest, “I mean, the legend about bulldozing thousands of recruiting soldiers.”

"Not that many," Wei Ran smiled helplessly.

He truly didn't expect that his living father could get his brother to continue the conversation, and he was even more surprised that the legends about Marshall were getting more and more outrageous.

"Do you know that bastard?" a soldier in the back row couldn't help but ask in surprise.

"Of course we're friends."

Wei Ran, caught up in a morbid reverie, said, "I was right there when he used an oil drum to boil that man-eating Wendigo."

"How about we change the subject?"

Another American soldier, his face pale, said, "I heard he decided to use witchcraft to cook that nuclear rat in order to save his pastor friend? And he even drank the broth?"

"fake"

Seeing that the legends about Marshall were getting more and more outrageous, Wei Ran lost interest in talking to the two soldiers.

During his casual conversation with Lawrence, Wei Ran drove to the west side of the northern airport, where Arthur had pointed out the general direction to him not long ago.

After passing through two heavily guarded barbed wire fences and undergoing repeated identity verifications and security checks, they finally entered the interior of the camp.

Under the arrangement of the two soldiers behind him, Wei Ran did not live in the same prefabricated house as Lawrence, but fortunately their prefabricated houses were right next to each other.

The even better news is that the clubhouse for this secluded camp is not far from where he lives.

So what exactly is this bet?
Whose bet was it with?

With these questions in mind, after the two American soldiers who shared a room with him left, Wei Ran immediately took out the stack of letters and hung up the name tag that had just been given to him.

After a moment's hesitation, he didn't take the camera out of the camera case this time, because he knew very well that not only him, but even Lawrence, who was probably busy with something, probably couldn't take pictures here at will.

Walking into the not-too-crowded club empty-handed, Wei Ran recalled the appearance of the girl named Claire in the photo, casually ordered an iced cola, and found a spot closest to the bar to begin his search.

Unfortunately, after searching all around, he still hadn't found a girl who matched the photo, even after finishing another Coke.

Could that girl really be dead? It can't be that far-fetched, right? I didn't come here to get involved in this kind of mess.
After thinking it over, Wei Ran got up and left the tavern, intending to take a stroll around the area.

Based on his experience, if soldiers and girls were having an affair here, they would definitely choose a secluded corner.

However, since he couldn't just wander around, and the waitress probably couldn't either, he basically just circled around the small bar.

Sure enough, before he had even walked a full circle, he saw the girl named Claire.

At this moment, the girl was holding a folder and a pen, checking and handing over goods next to the small door of the bar.

Claire

Wei Ran opened his mouth to call out the other person's name, but a blond soldier beat him to it and shouted it out first.

这 是
Wei Ran looked at the other person with a puzzled expression, and after thinking for a moment, he recognized him by the sunlight shining on the other person's face.

This was one of the midwives who delivered the baby boy shortly afterward, Lieutenant Maurice Jepson, the weapons expert on that flight crew.

Does he know Claire? What's their relationship? Could that girl named Claire be cheating on him?
Wei Ran's mind instantly ignited with gossip.

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