Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 122 The Goal: Easter!

"Give it another push from behind! Push harder! I'm about to step on the gas!"

As the shouts came from the driver's cab, the soldiers behind pushed simultaneously, the men chanting as they pushed the Renault truck up a gentle slope on the position.

At this moment, the black-robed priest changed his usual image, jumped off the truck, rolled up his wide sleeves, and personally helped the soldiers erect a tall wooden cross.

An altar made from an ammunition box, a confessional made from a few planks of wood, and even a small communion table for making pastries.

After transporting hundreds of wounded soldiers and thousands of boxes of supplies, the former "mobile chapel" has finally returned to its original function.

"Give me the paint bucket, the brush, and the newspaper." The priest in the black robe reached out and took the painting tools from the side. He used his mouth to hold the brush and climbed onto the top of the Renault truck, then raised his hand and painted a few special symbols.

The soldiers, who had been demoralized, began to show interest, and people around them looked up and pointed.

It's not that these rough men were particularly devout, but rather that the top of the "church" had a clock-shaped countdown painted crookedly in paint.
[22 days until Easter!]

The soldiers were initially puzzled. Everyone remembered the date, so what was the purpose of posting a countdown?
But looking at the priest in black robes making a big show of it, it's hard to believe that the priest who has created so many miracles would do something so meaningless.

"Is Easter some kind of pivotal time?!" This thought wasn't just on one person's mind.

"Father, will anything good happen at Easter?" someone boldly asked.

"Of course, good things will happen on the festival of the resurrection of the saints," the black-robed priest smiled and nodded, giving an ambiguous answer.

Although he didn't answer the question directly, his somewhat ambiguous attitude greatly misled the person involved, immediately leading the soldier to make many other associations.

"Have you heard? It's said we can be transferred back home for Easter." Someone spread the gossip among the crowd.

"What I heard is that there will be a three-day truce on Easter, and family members can come to the front lines to visit relatives," someone else said.

"No, I heard that negotiations have started and the war will end by Easter." There are always people with such unrealistic fantasies.

In just one day, five or six versions of the rumor emerged among the soldiers. Although each version was different, they all had one thing in common—they all said that by Easter, everyone would no longer have to fight.

With about three weeks until Easter, every soldier was starting to look forward to it.

"What's the point of you deliberately spreading such rumors?" The lieutenant colonel, arms crossed, looked at the black-robed priest dusting himself off and asked with some doubt.

“Eugen, do you know the Chinese saying, ‘Looking at plums quenches thirst’?” The priest looked at his partner.

"What do you mean?" The lieutenant colonel was completely confused.

“Alright, let me put it another way.” The priest in black robes pushed open the door to the side and led the way.

The two men arrived at the makeshift field hospital one after the other. When they saw the priest in black robes enter, all the medics stood up and saluted him.

It was only then that Lieutenant Colonel Eugen realized that, without realizing it, the other party had already gained a high reputation among the soldiers.

The priest in black robes approached a soldier with a leg injury, opened the wound, and drew a colored circle on the wounded man's leg with a cross.

The soldiers immediately became very excited.
"Thank you! Father! You saved my life! The holy seal you drew really worked, I feel much better, but unfortunately it started to fade yesterday."

"Is that so? I'll make it even darker for you today." The priest in the black robe raised his hand again and deepened the circle's lines.

As the two men left, the soldiers' voices of profuse thanks could still be heard. "Did you really draw the holy seal on him?" the lieutenant colonel asked thoughtfully.

"It's just iodine mixed with disinfectant," the black-robed priest said bluntly, then wiped the marks off the end of the cross.

"Human belief is a wonderful thing. As long as you don't give up hope of survival, no matter how difficult things are, they won't get to the worst point."

“I understand what you mean.” Lieutenant Colonel Eugen nodded.

"But what if you make them wait until Easter, and nothing happens in the end?"

"It's already quite an achievement that we've managed to keep the soldiers' morale up until Easter. Let's leave the rest to God."

The priest in black robes then turned to leave. Lieutenant Colonel Eugen looked at him in silence for a few seconds, and finally followed him.

After Father El's mobile church was erected on the position, the soldiers' morale improved significantly, and everyone would make a point of checking the daily countdown as they passed by.

Moreover, people have discovered that good luck always comes once you are associated with a "church".

"The priest gave me a confession yesterday, and in the afternoon, a shell exploded next to me, but I wasn't hurt at all," a soldier said confidently.

"Me too, the bullet went past my ear when I was looking back at the cross on the mountain."

“I changed the tires for the church yesterday, and when I came back, the original pit had collapsed.”

One stroke of good fortune after another occurred among the soldiers, and the story became increasingly fantastical, with people seemingly regarding the Renault truck as the army's lucky charm.

"Really nothing to do with you? I asked them, and none of them were lying," said the lieutenant colonel beside him, a look of doubt in his eyes.

“Of course, I’m a priest, not the Son of God. They were just lucky.” The man in the black robe said while still busy with his work—he was leaning against the wall peeling potatoes.

"What is this for?"

“Make some Easter eggs; these potatoes are the perfect size.” The priest in the black robe said, twirling the knife in his hand. Potato skins fell from his hand, one by one, to the ground and then piled up again.

“Eugen, we are all ordinary people. In the current situation, it’s already a 90-point test paper that you’ve managed to hold the line until Easter. After that, it’s best to leave it to God.”

The lieutenant colonel glanced at the other person, nodded, turned and left, leaving behind a single sentence before stepping out the door.
"Sometimes I really can't see you clearly. Are you a saint or a big-time liar?"

The sound of military boots faded away, and the room was once again empty except for the priest in his black robe, the only sound being the crunching of potatoes being peeled.

Bang bang bang!

The sound of pages turning filled the air, and the words on the diary in front of the black-robed priest began to change, finally settling on a number—a number representing the number of wounded soldiers in the Second Army Field Hospital.

Picking up a peeled potato, Qin Hao muttered to himself.

"It has dropped again. It seems that while the frontline transport capacity is blocked, the speed of transferring the wounded in the rear is actually accelerating."

"At this rate, it should be around Easter time."

(End of this chapter)