Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 119 The Death Adviser

Bang bang bang bang bang! ! ! !

The crisp sound of rifles firing rang out, and as the black-robed priest raised his hand, two more German soldiers who tried to rush forward were shot and fell.

The British Enfield rifle features a rotating bolt action with a short bolt travel and low recoil. This sacrifices some penetration power in exchange for the possibility of rapid fire, allowing the shooter to empty the magazine in just 2.5 seconds.

But all of this is based on the premise that the archer is extremely skilled in using the weapon.

The man in the black robe in front of them didn't even last two seconds.

"You've fought in wars before?" The lieutenant colonel stood up, pressing his shoulder, his surprise impossible to hide.

"Hmm, I've had a few experiences, but not many." The priest in the black robe looked out of the trench and responded casually, raising his hand to put five bullets into the rifle.

A completely different aura emanated from that person.

The next moment, the lieutenant colonel stood up and looked around. In the distance, there were faint gray figures moving about. He shook his head and said, "Let's go, this position can't be held."

The priest in black robes was clearly taken aback, and said with a hint of surprise, "I thought someone as old-fashioned as you would shout something like 'Hold on to the death and not retreat an inch.'"

“If we could hold the position by using up all the soldiers here, I would certainly give such an order.” The principal sighed. “But right now, it’s too chaotic here. No one can organize these soldiers. We have no chance of winning.”

After saying that, Lieutenant Colonel Eugen picked up the pistol from the ground, pressed the wound on his shoulder, and prepared to leave.

"Where are you going?" The voice of the priest in black robes came from behind.

"Go and fulfill your military duties, and leave the rest to God." The lieutenant colonel finished speaking and stepped forward.

Quack!

A black shadow flashed past, causing the lieutenant colonel to stop in his tracks. A jet-black raven flew from the sky and landed on the shoulder of the priest in the black robe. The priest then walked up to him with a gun in hand.

"Good answer. Let's go. Maybe things haven't gotten that bad yet."

The man raised his hand, and the black crow took flight, while the lieutenant colonel following behind stared blankly, seemingly lost in thought.

Quack!! Quack!!

Bang bang bang!! Bang bang!!
The cawing of crows and the sound of gunfire from Enfield rang out one after the other, and two foreign soldiers fighting with German troops in the trench were rescued.

The priest in black robes held a gun and spoke in a language the lieutenant colonel couldn't understand, while two black soldiers followed him with knowing expressions on their faces.

Quack!! Quack!! Quack!!
boom! ! boom! ! boom! !

The same sounds echoed repeatedly in the trenches. The black-robed priest always managed to pinpoint the most intense fighting between the two sides, and almost every time he would sneak up from the German flanks or rear.

As more and more people were rescued, more and more soldiers gathered around them. Once language was no longer a problem, the foreign soldiers were far more obedient to orders than the regular French soldiers.

The black-robed priest won the favor of most people by helping them write letters, and he also saved them on the battlefield. With their direct commander out of contact, the soldiers obeyed this "kind and brave" officer without question.

At that moment, the black-robed priest became the de facto commander of the foreign legion.

The soldiers gathered like a snowball, and Lieutenant Colonel Eugen, who was already horrified, made another discovery: the man in the black robe not only had superb marksmanship, but also made considerable achievements in battle command.

"Pull the pin! Throw!"

"Send three men! Block the entrance on the other side!"

"Get the explosives! Blow up the tunnel at the corner! The Germans are about to rush up from there!"

"Idiots! Bend down! Bullets have priority over you on the battlefield!"

The priest in black robes issued commands in the local language, while the lieutenant colonel stared in disbelief at everything that was happening before his eyes.

Although he couldn't understand what specific orders he was giving, the flexible defensive fortifications hastily set up by the foreign legion soldiers and the alternating bursts of suppressive fire were perfectly clear to them.

Thanks to his efforts, the Germans, who had already achieved a local breakthrough, were unable to expand their gains for a time and were even driven out of some of their positions.

In the end, they only occupied a small section of the position and then stayed there.

The two sides threw grenades at each other across the trenches, and for a time neither side could gain the upper hand, creating a strange balance on the battlefield.

boom! !

A grenade exploded not far away, and the flying dirt covered the priest in black robes.

"Grenades won't hit! Do you have a cannon?!" the black-robed priest shouted to those around him in the local dialect. A commotion arose behind them, and a long, thin figure was indeed pushed forward—a French-made 75mm rapid-fire cannon.

This support artillery, with a rate of fire almost comparable to that of rifles, is nicknamed "Miss France." Its maximum rate of fire can reach 30 rounds per minute, making it an absolute weapon for suppressing infantry on the battlefield.

However, the scene suddenly fell silent the next moment.

The foreign soldiers looked at each other, then turned their gaze to the priest in black robes.

"Uh, what are they doing?" The battlefield clerk, who had just been displaying great prowess, looked at the soldiers around him and finally fixed his gaze on the lieutenant colonel.

“They don’t know how to operate this kind of artillery and are waiting for you to teach them,” Lieutenant Colonel Eugen finally had a chance to speak.

"You don't know?! I'll teach you?!" For the first time, the priest in the black robe showed a troubled expression.

"Let me do it." The lieutenant colonel unbuttoned his uniform, revealing his shirt underneath, and reached out to pick up the artillery shell beside him.

“My artillery subject grades are pretty good. You talk to them and make them follow my orders.”

The lieutenant colonel put himself in the role of an ordinary artilleryman, while the foreign soldiers around him followed orders and began to move shells.

Once the 75mm guns began firing, the opposing positions were instantly surrounded by fierce firepower, and the German assault troops, lacking heavy weapons and support, were quickly defeated.

Under the cover of artillery fire, the soldiers of the Foreign Legion grabbed their rifles and rushed into the trenches. After a brief hand-to-hand combat, the French forces regained the lost ground.

The sound of artillery fire gradually thinned out. The German army, having suffered heavy losses, ultimately failed to break through the French positions, and the soldiers in dark gray uniforms retreated like a tide.

As if death had pressed the pause button, the entire battlefield suddenly fell silent, with only the crackling of burning trees, the painful groans of the wounded, and the occasional mournful cawing of crows.

At night, the lieutenant colonel, with his shoulders bandaged, returned to the underground bunker and was surprised to see a priest in a black robe treating a wounded soldier's wound with gauze.

Slowly walking forward, the lieutenant colonel squatted down. "Now I want to know, is there anything you can't do?"

"Of course I do, but I'm not really good at handling those 'Miss France' contestants." The other person smiled mysteriously.

The lieutenant colonel shook his head and said methodically, "No, your previous commands clearly indicated that you had commanded rapid-fire artillery units, and even had experience commanding battalion-level units."

Will the Religious Affairs Office train priests for combat command?

"Dude, you're not going to suspect me of being a spy again, are you?"

The Frenchman shook his head. "If you're a spy, the Germans are paying a far too high price."

After saying that, the Frenchman took out a very messy document: "The fortress command just issued an order that, given the large number of officers killed in action in this defense zone, I have been temporarily reassigned as the interim commander."

After saying that, he took a deep breath and said, "You are the person who knows these soldiers best. Can you be my deputy?"

"Is it an order?" The priest in black robes turned his head and smiled slightly.

"No, it's a request."

"Okay, then I..."

Quack!! Quack!!
The mournful cawing of crows rang out, and the black-robed priest, who had just been all smiles, suddenly turned menacing.

I went outside alone, and soon the distinctive crisp sound of the British Enfield caliber rang out in the night.

A few minutes later, someone jogged in to report that a small group of German troops who had attempted a night raid had been discovered, lost several men, and retreated.

As the lieutenant colonel watched the path the other person took, the figure in black became even more mysterious.

Wartime has always been a breeding ground for all sorts of legends.

Verdun, as the most brutal battlefield, has been the subject of many mysterious stories on both sides. For example, the owl that guided the way at night in Verdun and the elusive Baladic fox are well-known military legends.

The most terrifying legend for the German army, however, came from the front lines at Belleville Heights.

Legend has it that the French army had a cunning archer who could not escape anyone he targeted.

The deceased would hear the cawing of crows before they died.

Because no one had ever seen the face of this ghostly marksman, the Germans fearfully called this ghostly soldier:
Sue the deceased.

(End of this chapter)