Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 12 Identity
Donikov acted quickly; three days later, he tossed a small bag in front of Qin Hao.

The bag was very, very old, with dark green exterior stained with black grime. The edges, reinforced with cowhide, were cracked, and a powdery substance would flutter off at the slightest touch. The shoulder strap was open, revealing the small items inside.

A palm-sized Russian sacrament book with an illegible printing year, an aluminum lunchbox, a wooden spoon, a ceramic cup, a wooden Orthodox cross...

“These are all the daily necessities of battlefield priests. I’ve looked it up, and they’re basically all the same kind of things.” Donikov put a cigarette in his mouth, then casually stubbed it out as if he remembered something.

"Where did you get this? Is it a replica?" Qin Hao picked up a cross and examined it closely.

"No, they are all genuine, just from an unknown age." Donikov shrugged. "I found them at a flea market. These kinds of flea market items, where there's no way to confirm their age, are greatly discounted in value. The most expensive items were the book and the cross, which cost me 2 rubles. The rest were freebies."

"Next, all we need to do is make up a good story and get some decent credentials, and a battlefield priest who was active in World War I will be fresh off the press."

"Have you got the documents sorted out?" Qin Hao asked, as this was what he was most concerned about.

"Here it is," Donikov rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a small blue-covered book with a double-headed eagle and a cross printed on it, along with a steel stamp and special ink.

“I looked at the real exhibits at the museum and commissioned a printing factory to make one. Even the numbering followed the rules of that time. You just need to fill in the information you want and then age it.”

Qin Hao fiddled with the documents for a moment, then shook his head.

"How do you explain your Asian identity? Just showing your identification documents might not be enough to convince buyers."

"Of course, there must be others." Donikov carefully took out a sealed letter and gently laid it on the table.

Qin Hao took a closer look and found that it was a letter written from an officer's perspective to his family in Moscow. The letter described many of his observations in Northeast China. When he saw the signature, his expression turned serious.

Paul von Lenningkamp

“I know this person,” Qin Hao rubbed his chin. “This guy is a Russian of German descent, of noble birth. He spent a long time in China and was very active during the Russo-Japanese War. During World War I, he was a general and commanded the Russian First Army against the German Eighth Army. After the defeat, he fled back to Russia. What was his final fate again?”

"He was shot dead by the Bolsheviks in 1918," Donikov gestured with his hand as if holding a pistol, then waved his hand and continued, "How he died is not important."

"The important thing is that Lenningkamp spent quite a while in the north of your country. We can assume that he met a young man there, introduced him to the Orthodox Church out of admiration, and then brought him back to the Far East out of admiration, and then eventually came to East Prussia."

Donikov spread his hands and said with a smile, "See, everything makes perfect sense, doesn't it?"

"So you mean..." Qin Hao had already guessed what the other person was thinking.

“It is not difficult to forge a letter of introduction and other documents to prove that there was such a person from northern China who came to Moscow and then went to the front as a priest. As long as his previous handwriting is used as a reference, it is not difficult to forge notes.”

"That's a very good idea, and there are no obvious logical flaws." Qin Hao nodded. "How much does it cost to forge the letter? I'll transfer the money to you."

"Hey buddy, aren't we friends? You're sick, you should let me do something for you, right?" Donikov patted Qin Hao on the shoulder and picked up the things on the table. "Don't worry, I'll have everything taken care of in a week at most."

A week later, Qin Hao received what he expected.

A document bearing forged seals of the Russian Orthodox Church and the Army General Staff, and a letter of introduction forged from a manuscript by Lenningkamp, ​​were also specifically mentioned by Donikov.

"Buddy, don't forget to distress it! Otherwise, everything will be for nothing."

"I will, thank you!" Qin Hao hugged Donikov; he really hadn't expected the other man to do so much.

"What are your plans next? I have a friend studying medicine in Moscow," Donikov asked Qin Hao.

"No, I'm not in any immediate danger. I plan to receive conservative treatment for now and then take some time to adjust my mood," Qin Hao said with a smile, patting Donikov on the shoulder. "Adjust your mood? Are you planning to go on a trip?"

"No, I'm going to pray."

"What?!"

As it turned out, Qin Hao wasn't joking; starting the next day, he became a regular at the town's church.

Every day, she diligently attended the prayer services organized by the old priest, helped distribute communion, and consulted the priest about things to pay attention to during baptism and confession. She even participated in an Orthodox funeral as a helper on a weekend and wrote down every key step in her notebook.

Seeing his friend like this, Donikov sighed. Many people suddenly become devout believers after contracting a serious illness, while others pursue ethereal mysticism. If modern medicine cannot cure this disease, then this situation will only worsen.

It seems that even my very proactive partner couldn't escape the trend and eventually fell into this circle.

Poor guy, I hope he doesn't get too deeply involved.

But in reality, Qin Hao knew that he didn't want to become a devout believer, but rather to undergo a short-term "crash course" in becoming a priest.

A few days later, the weather was clear, and the moon was full.

The light in Qin Hao's bedroom had never been turned off. From the outside, a long shadow was cast on the wall, and someone was doing something at a desk.

Qin Hao gently picked up a black and white photo of himself with tweezers, carefully pasted it in the middle of the document, smoothed the surface, and finally filled in his name in the name column with a pen.

With its official seal, photograph, and insignia complete, a new Asian war priest certificate named Pukin was produced.

However, it's not over yet.

Qin Hao opened the packaging of the anti-inflammatory drugs and antibiotics he had bought at the pharmacy, poured out all the tablets, and then crushed them into powder in a container.

He pulled out a knife and carefully untied the binding threads on the sheepskin cover of the document. He then gently pried open the document's inner layer and poured all the powder inside.

The small strip of paper cut from wax paper was taken out, and Qin Hao used a laminator to iron it flat little by little, repeatedly brushed it with special ink, and then carefully pressed it into the hidden page of the document, and a miniature map appeared.

The map above is a topographical map of the entire Battle of Tannenberg, with special symbols marking some information that Qin Hao was afraid of forgetting.

He coated the pages with wax to make them waterproof, then took out a needle and thread to sew the surface back together. Holding the document, Qin Hao smiled self-deprecatingly, "I never thought I'd be able to use my cheat sheet skills."

I looked up at the sky and saw that a full moon had already climbed over the branches beside the road.

It's time again.

I hope the ending will be different this time.

Qin Hao held the document containing the letter of introduction in his palm.

Moonlight streamed through the window, casting a shadow that fell on another chess piece on the corner of the table.

The surrounding scenery became blurry again.

(End of this chapter)