Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 130 Choice
As far as the eye could see, hundreds of soldiers were writhing and groaning in the dressing station, while medics could do nothing but cover the mouths and noses of the lightly wounded with damp cloths to help them vomit.

boom! boom! boom! !

Explosions rang out one after another; the retreating French troops were using explosives to detonate the abandoned trenches in order to prevent the Germans from taking over the positions.

But the French army had nowhere to retreat.

"Damn it! We're like rats in a bag!"

The lieutenant colonel slammed his fist heavily on the table, oblivious to the scratches that were inflicted on his skin.

"We lost a third of the position, and only half of the men are still able to pick up guns and fight. We can only equip two platoons with gas masks."

Cough cough cough! ! !
A violent cough interrupted the lieutenant colonel's speech. This man, who had lived in the German-occupied territory of Alsace since childhood, looked around at the suffering soldiers and silently made a decision.

He walked toward the black-robed priest beside him. "Father El, I need your help."

"There are too many poisoned soldiers here, and we don't have the facilities to treat them. Could you please transport them back to the field hospital? Your driving skills are the best."

Surprisingly, the priest in the black robe did not react; he simply leaned there with a solemn expression, lost in thought.

Click!

A pencil was broken in Qin Hao's hand, and a sharp splinter pierced his palm, but he was completely unaware.

Miscalculation!
His judgment this time was seriously flawed, even fatal.

During this period, the number of wounded in the Second Group Field Hospital had been decreasing. They were almost about to reach the target number, and he could even complete the "mission" in his diary and leave tomorrow.

But now, Bellville Fortress suddenly has hundreds of wounded soldiers who need to be transported back to the field hospital. If this happens, the number of people in the original field hospital will surge again, and all the previous efforts will be in vain!

Clouds drifted across the sky, casting shadows that obscured Qin Hao's body.

Actually, there is another way to salvage the situation.

They deliberately delayed their return journey, leaving the wounded to fend for themselves, regardless of their fate...

"Two days at most! Two days at most! Just delay it a bit, not many people will die."

"Leave here, and none of this is your concern!"

"These people were going to die anyway, they were just unlucky!"

A voice kept echoing in his mind, seemingly tempting him.

"Cough cough cough! Father, Father..." The soldier next to him clutched his chest in pain, which was covered with bloody blisters. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but could only utter the word "Father".

Qin Hao knew this person; he had said he wanted to learn how to drive a tractor and become a farmer.

There are many people like this around.

Those people had all sat together on the battlefield, respectfully accepting the potatoes from his hands, but none of them were willing to eat them.

The soldiers trusted him.

The pen tip sank deeper and deeper into Qin Hao's palm...

Snapped! ! ! !

He slammed the pencil to the ground, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere!
"Damn it! I'll just do it again!" The black-robed priest cursed in Chinese in front of the lieutenant colonel, startling him.

The next moment, the black-robed priest in front of the lieutenant colonel became a completely different person.

“Eugen, I agree with your plan, but it needs some adjustments.” The black-haired man in the black robe spoke in a completely different tone, now carrying an air of unquestionable authority.

"You take the convoy back, I'll leave a few men here to guard this place and absolutely won't let the Germans get up here!"

His shoulders were pressed down by two hands, and the other person stared at him forcefully, so much so that the lieutenant colonel could even see his own reflection in the black pupils. An inexplicable pressure washed over him, making the lieutenant colonel momentarily forget to refute. Just as he was about to speak, he was stopped again by the person in front of him.

"Don't think about refusing yet, listen to what I have to say first."

"No one does small-scale trench warfare better than me. When gas masks are in short supply, I'm the perfect person to lead the team."

“Besides the church on the position, there are six trucks here. You can take the most seriously wounded people away first.”

"Truck drivers are ordinary people, and their will is not that strong. You can give them confidence if you are in the truck. After you take the injured back, quickly organize manpower and gas masks. Maybe you can still make it in time."

The priest in black robes finished explaining the situation in a very fast voice, and then looked at Lieutenant Colonel Eugen.

"I've said my piece. Now it's your turn to decide."
-
As dawn broke, Renault trucks carrying the wounded risked being bombed again and forced their way toward the rear hospitals.

"I'll be back soon, don't die!" Lieutenant Colonel Eugen said as he boarded the truck on his way back.

In the underground bunker, the priest in black robes walked through the door, carrying an Enfield rifle in one hand and an M2 gas mask in the other.

"I need 50 volunteers!"

A black gas mask was placed over his head, and when he raised his head again, all facial expressions were hidden.

Upon seeing this attire, the crows perched on the branches and cawed loudly, as if they had spotted their companions.

The thick fog on the position began to thin, and as the wind shifted, the effectiveness of the poison gas bombs began to decrease.

Before dawn, German soldiers, wearing gas masks, cautiously approached the French positions.

The opposite side was quiet; the machine gun bunker that had previously claimed the lives of countless soldiers was now silent.

Death's scythe seemed to sweep across this land lightly, taking away all life.

The soldiers moved aside the barbed wire and roadblocks and jumped into the trench in front of them.

Sure enough, the French army had already withdrawn from every visible area, leaving it deserted.

From the strange German voices emanating from the masks, the commander ordered the soldiers to search forward and clear the trenches one by one.

They successfully passed through the first line of defense and entered the dense network of trenches, but still did not see a single person.

"Maybe all the French have run away," someone muttered from behind a mask, and someone else nodded in agreement.

Quack!
A mournful cawing of crows rang out. Suddenly, the scenery before them changed.

whoosh whoosh whoosh~~~
The wind howled, and a dozen burning tires were thrown out of the passage.

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!!!
The sound of machine guns rang out, but there was no one in sight.

The tire burned brighter and brighter, emitting thick smoke and a pungent odor.

Cough cough cough! ! ! !

The German soldiers began to cough at this point; their gas masks, designed to deal with residual poisonous gas, were ineffective against the fumes from burning old tires.

"Cough cough! Quick, throw those tires away!" the commander ordered, forcing himself to endure the discomfort.

But the next moment, a terrifying feeling rose from the bottom of his heart. Thick smoke rose, and the position, which had just cleared of fog, became disorienting again. He couldn't even see the faces of his own soldiers.

He wiped the lenses of his gas mask and saw a dark figure standing in front of him.

"Hurry! Go and call..."

puff! ! !
A sound like a sharp object piercing a balloon rang out, and a small cross-shaped knife was pressed into his throat!
(End of this chapter)