Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 115 Feathers Under the Moonlight
When you pray to God, you often hear nothing, but if you call out to your enemy, he might appear in the next second.

Upon seeing that familiar face, Mr. Philip felt every cell in his body tremble uncontrollably, whether from shock or fear.

That night, those eyes, and those constantly fluttering wings.

Although he was unable to move due to being wrapped in bandages, the Frenchman's body still trembled involuntarily.

How could it be him? !

How could it be him?!
He should... he should already be dead!!

Although I didn't witness it firsthand, the upheaval in the Russian court a few months ago had already spread among sources. Those familiar with the situation were quite certain that he had taken poison in public, was shot through the body with a pistol, and finally drowned in the icy river.

Could it be...? All the past events flashed through my mind, and some incredible guess surfaced in my heart.

Mr. Philip is currently unable to do anything due to his health condition.

He could only let the volunteers lift him onto the modified truck. A slender figure walked over, and a woman who looked like a nurse covered him with a blanket.

"It might be a bit cold on the road, this will help. Don't worry, the priest is a very good driver, you will arrive safely."

One after another, the wounded were carried onto trucks, and the smell of blood began to fill the air. At this point, nothing else mattered to Mr. Philip.

What does it matter if he's a devil, as long as it can save him?

Besides, he…

Hey, who knows?

As his mind relaxed slightly and fatigue set in, Philip drifted off to sleep.

The Frenchman was in a coma, half-asleep and half-awake.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself seemingly back on a battlefield filled with the sounds of gunfire and artillery. Planes circled overhead, heavy machine guns roared, and charging soldiers were swept to the ground like wheat being harvested.

He seemed to have forgotten that he was still injured, and ran away as soon as he faced danger.

The earth roared, and cannonballs whistled down at him from the sky!

He covered his head and lay prone on the ground, but a winged figure blocked his way, its black and white wings enveloping him.

boom! ! ! !

The explosion rang out, and the Frenchman shuddered, opening his eyes to see stars moving through the gaps in the truck's tarpaulin.

It’s a dream…

Is this a revelation from God to me?
boom! ! ! !

As the sound of exploding shells rang out, the car visibly jolted, and Philip realized that the shelling had indeed taken place.

Under the starlight, the Renault truck sped along the winding road, the flashes of German artillery shells occasionally illuminating the vehicle in the darkness before disappearing in a flash.

"Father El, why do we have to leave at night?" Chanel asked in a high-pitched voice as the truck lurched along.

“During the daytime, there are German fighter planes in the sky, and we can’t outrun them!” the priest in black robes said, turning the steering wheel again to make a turn.

"But the German shells are still chasing us!"

"It must be the lighting. The other side can determine our approximate location from the light. Miss Chanel, go and turn off all the lights!"

"Lights out?! How are we supposed to see where we're going?!" Chanel could hardly believe her ears.

"Don't worry about it! Trust me!"

boom! ! ! !

Another shell exploded, the blast wave shaking the entire vehicle. "Never mind! I'm not responsible for anything that happens!" Chanel shouted, leaning out of the window and reaching out to turn off the lantern hanging on the truck. (Truck headlights were not standard equipment in 1916.)
The entire interior of the car went dark.

The sound of cannons gradually faded into the distance, with only the occasional echo of pebbles rolling over wheels lingering in the air.

Both Chanel and Philippe in the back of the truck were praying silently. Everyone knew how dangerous it was to drive in the dark.

A moment's carelessness could lead to a fatal accident.

"Oh my god! I haven't become a big businesswoman yet! I don't want to die!" Chanel cried out in terror.

The next second, a strange sound outside the car window caught her attention.

Quack! Quack!

Waaaaah~~ Waaaah~~
Chanel opened her eyes, an incredulous expression on her face. A large, black and white owl flew into the air, its body swaying from side to side as if guiding the truck.

Moreover, it wasn't just one owl. After the large bird in front got tired, another owl of a different color flew in from somewhere and continued to fly high in front, constantly emitting its distinctive calls.

One, two, three, more and more... Chanel saw only flapping wings and fluttering feathers.

They cried out, flew, and accompanied the truck, guiding the way forward with their bodies.

She grew up in a convent and didn't really pay attention when reading sacred texts, but at this moment, a passage she had read before inexplicably surfaced in her mind.

They are our prophets, our messengers, our saviors. Standing among the flock, I was awestruck by their power.

When divinity unfolds among the birds, redemption is found in transformation; the same life, countless variations.

"What on earth is going on?! Are you a magician?!" The French woman, who had never seen anything like this before, turned around and asked excitedly.

The man in black robes didn't speak, but simply put a finger to his lips and said, "Shh~ Keep it a secret for me."

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, gilding the young priest's robes with a silver trim, and amidst the fluttering feathers, Chanel's heart skipped a beat.

Mr. Philip, hiding in the back of the warehouse, was completely unaware. The sound of cannon fire gradually faded away, but in the dim light, he had no idea what had happened. He could only close his eyes and pray to all that he knew.

As dawn approached, the sound of cannon fire completely disappeared, and the Frenchmen were pleasantly surprised to find that, after a night's sleep, their bodies were able to move slightly.

He struggled to turn his body around, lay prone on the vehicle bed, and slightly raised his head to look out.

He will never forget the scene before him.

In the morning light, light shone through and illuminated the tarpaulin in front of us, and the silhouette of a man slowly emerged on it.

A pair of wings were flapping on his shoulders.

Then came the second couple, the third couple…

The scene was exactly the same as in his dream.

On March 4, 1916, the German army launched a full-day attack on French transport convoys heading to Verdun, and the artillery fire did not stop even at night.

The French convoy, with its lights off, forced its way back to Balequique by starlight alone, and was unharmed. This feat is known as the Balequique Night Miracle.

The drivers involved claimed to have seen a priest in a black robe and with black hair summoning a flock of birds to guide the convoy. This story quickly spread and was seen as evidence of divine protection for France.

Even 10 years after the war ended, no one in the area actively hunted or killed the birds in the forest.

Philippe Vashad was admitted to Baldeco and transferred back to Paris for treatment in June of the same year.

A year later, the Frenchman recovered and was discharged from the hospital. The former mystic confessed to the church about his previous deception and truly converted to Catholicism. He then focused on the welfare of postwar veterans and children, becoming a well-known philanthropist in the area.

In his memoirs published in his later years, he mentioned countless times a person whose existence could not be fully verified.

(End of this chapter)