Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 117 Bellville Heights
Belleville, in French, means "the land where beautiful thorns grow".

Located northwest of Verdun, overlooking the east bank of the Meuse River, it was a key barrier for the French army's supply lines.

In later generations, it was known as "the meat grinder among meat grinders".

Between March and June 1916, the German and French forces fought repeatedly, with an average of three bullets falling per square meter, practically turning the entire hillside upside down.

boom! ! ! ! !
A muffled explosion rang in his ears, and Qin Hao felt the entire car shake.

"What is this?" Qin Hao stuck his head out of the car window, but found no trace of an explosion.

"The German siege artillery, don't worry, the sound is far away from here," the lieutenant colonel explained expressionlessly from the passenger seat.

Chanel was, after all, a woman, and ultimately she wasn't taken to the front lines. Instead, Lieutenant Colonel Eugen, with whom Qin Hao had a strained relationship, was sent, making Qin Hao feel awkward the whole way.

Wow!

The sound of machine guns swinging filled the air, and suddenly seven or eight soldiers appeared in front of the truck, with a Hotchkiss M1914 heavy machine gun on top, aimed directly at them.

"Just a routine check. German espionage activities have been rampant here lately." The lieutenant colonel finished speaking and took out his identification, handing it to the guard.

After the other party saluted, the Renault truck continued on its way.

As the car drove up the hill, a large-scale fortification project unfolded before Qin Hao's eyes.

It must be said that the French really knew how to fight defensive wars; their trench system alone had three layers.

In addition to the first layer of machine guns and barbed wire, they even dug a second line of communication trenches as support, while the 75mm rapid-fire guns, known as "Miss France," were deployed in the reverse slope fortifications of the third line.

However, the concrete structures around the area clearly showed signs of damage, and Qin Hao could also see soldiers wearing helmets using shovels to repair the collapsed trenches.

Trucks were parked one after another in the ammunition depot, and soldiers lined up to unload the ammunition boxes.

Qin Hao had the opportunity to observe the French frontline combat personnel at this time.

These people had blank expressions and their hands moved mechanically, as if everything around them was irrelevant to them.

It seems that the soldiers here are already in a very bad mental state after only a month of fighting.

Surprisingly, a small group of Black soldiers were among those carrying ammunition.

"Foreign Legion?" Qin Hao muttered to himself.

"Hurry up and eat! We need to leave before dark!" Lieutenant Colonel Eugen gave the order to the others.

"Leaving when it gets dark? Lieutenant Colonel, we're already exhausted from the journey, and traveling at night is very dangerous!" a truck driver protested from behind.

“Yeah, yeah! Not everyone has the skills of a priest.” Someone else chimed in.

"Shut up! That's an order!" The lieutenant colonel drew his pistol and forcefully suppressed all dissenting voices.

Left with no other option, the drivers could only grumble and munch on their bread in a corner.

"Aren't you going to offer any opinion?" The lieutenant colonel glanced at the Asian man beside him.

“Lieutenant Colonel, although I think your tone could have been a bit gentler, I agree with your decision. It’s better to leave sooner rather than later.” The priest in black robes looked at the lifeless fortress and made his judgment.

"Hey, don't touch me! Why are there black people here!" A shout suddenly interrupted the two people's conversation.

A truck driver, in a fit of rage, shoved a black man aside, sending pieces flying from the man's hands.

The Black man stood helplessly in front of the truck, muttering something, but no one could understand him.

Amid the commotion, several other Black soldiers approached, and some truck drivers, seeing their comrades about to be harmed, pulled out large wrenches from under their seats and joined in.

The two sides began shoving and pushing, and a conflict seemed imminent. The lieutenant colonel frowned and reached for the pistol at his waist.

"Wait a minute!" A loud shout rang out from behind, and the priest in black robes spread his arms and stepped between the two groups of people.

He first said something that was incomprehensible, and the black soldier opposite him shook his head in confusion.

The priest in black then said two different words. When he heard the last word, the black soldier's face showed disbelief, and then he became excited.

He placed his hand on the black-robed priest's shoulder and spoke rapidly, while the Easterner opposite him responded with a few words from time to time.

"I've figured it out. They're all Senegalese infantrymen. They just wanted us to help them take a letter home." Qin Hao picked up the scattered letters from the ground.

"Tch, so these guys write letters too?" The truck driver scoffed and walked away.

Seeing the way the group looked, Qin Hao didn't say anything.

The conflict between French Foreign Legion soldiers and locals is nothing new, and it cannot be reversed by a few simple slogans or orders.

Throughout World War I, the French army conscripted 60 non-native fighters, including soldiers from Algeria, Morocco, Senegal, and even Vietnam. These soldiers generally served as assault troops and suicide squads, receiving minimal pay, and often had deep conflicts with native soldiers due to language and religious issues.

You can tell a lot from the truck drivers' attitude.

“Anyone who wants to send a letter, come here! I’ll help!” The priest in black robes raised his hand high, and the foreign soldiers crowded around him excitedly.

“Father, these are savages…” someone whispered from the side.

“When God was shepherding the sheep, He didn’t say to distinguish the colors of the flock,” the black-robed priest said, picking up his pen and writing in words that no one else could understand.

These Black soldiers spoke very poor French and could only understand the most basic orders. This time, someone was able to actually talk to them and even help them write letters, which made everyone very excited.

"Do you speak their dialect?" Lieutenant Colonel Eugen asked.

"I know a little bit, so simple communication isn't a problem."

Looking at the priest in black robes among the crowd, the lieutenant colonel nodded. "Don't forget, we're leaving in an hour."

The sun had just set when the cawing of crows echoed near the fortress.

The trucks turned off their lights and drove out of the fortress one by one, with the black-robed priest's Renault truck trailing behind.

The terrain gradually sloped down, and the road ahead became faintly visible.

"Alright, next we should..."

Quack!

The shrill cries of crows rang out, and Qin Hao almost instinctively jerked the steering wheel, causing the Renault truck to drift sideways.

Screech! The brake discs emitted a piercing groan as Lieutenant Colonel Eugen's head slammed against the car door.

"What the hell are you doing...?"

Before the complaints could be finished, a strange shriek came from the sky.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The violent explosion engulfed the convoy ahead, the surging blast shattered the truck windows, and the entire ground trembled.

1916年3月14日，德军调集了32门210mm重炮轰击法军后方补给线，同时派遣超过1万五千人的部队正面强攻贝尔维尔高地。

The French transport convoy was bombarded by heavy artillery on its return journey, suffering heavy losses, and the remaining vehicles had to return to the fortress again.

(End of this chapter)