Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 131 Exchange of Cards
puff! ! !
The blade pierced his throat, and the German officer's entire body began to tremble. Almost instinctively, he tried to press his hand against the wound on his neck, but found that the strength in his body was rapidly draining away.

Phew! !
The knife was pulled out, and the officer's body slumped to the ground.

Because he was wearing a mask, the attacker's expression was unreadable. He placed the officer's body on the ground, straightened it, and stepped back. After only a few meters, the masked man disappeared into the thick fog.

It was as if he had never existed.

A minute later, when German soldiers arrived at the scene, they saw a horrific sight: the sergeant in charge was lying stiffly in the trench, his blood splattered everywhere like paint.

Bang bang bang bang bang! ! ! ! !
In a panic, the German soldiers began firing blindly, but to no avail in the thick smoke and fog.

"Stop! Everyone stop! You'll hit your own men!" another experienced sergeant shouted, but his voice was limited by the gas mask.

"Don't fire randomly, gather around! Put out the fire!" The sergeant risked pulling off his mask, trying to direct the soldiers to break the deadlock.

Gua! ! !
The cawing of crows echoed in the air.

The next second, an egg-shaped grenade, seemingly out of nowhere, rolled out smoking and landed right at the feet of the sergeant who had shouted the order.

boom! !

An explosion rang out, sending debris flying and smoke swirling as some people were knocked to the ground.

quack!
puff!puff!puff!
The sound of bullets piercing bodies could be heard all around, but the enemy was nowhere to be seen, or rather, the enemy was everywhere.

The tires crackled and popped as they burned, billowing black smoke and mist mingling together, like some kind of predatory beast.

Figures moved about in the fog, and glimpses of exploding grenades and streaks of gunfire could be seen from time to time. French soldiers, wearing gas masks that resembled crows, appeared like ghosts in the fog.

Rifles, grenades, traps, bayonets peeking out from around corners—every step the German soldiers took could have meant facing unexpected casualties, and the attackers, whether successful or not, would quickly retreat from the scene.

Both sides, wearing masks, are engaged in a death ball, where no groans of the dead can be heard until the very end.

Everyone fought and died in an eerie silence, and in this eerie atmosphere.

At dusk, the German troops left behind hundreds of corpses and withdrew.

Pierre removed his gas mask and gulped down water. As his Adam's apple bobbed, beads of sweat the size of soybeans streamed down his face like rain.

Even though it's only April, the airtight protective gear still makes it hard for him to breathe.

Pulling the mask off your head, the rubber screeches against your skin.

Only then did he realize that his hands were trembling uncontrollably, unsure whether it was from fear or excitement.

The past day felt like a dream to him.

When he raised his hand, he thought it was a battle he was destined to die in; he went into battle with the mindset of taking down as many Germans as possible.

But he never imagined that war could be fought in this way.

Moving through dense trenches, firing rapidly, or throwing a grenade and immediately retreating—this tactic of constantly gathering and dispersing like a flock of birds—surprisingly proved to be surprisingly effective.

No need to think, just follow orders – this is the most suitable tactic for a soldier.

No one raised any questions, because the priest would resolve all the issues.

At that moment, the priest in black robes was leaning against his Renault truck, doing something with his hands.

“Father! I’m here to help!” Pierre jogged over, but by the time he got there, the other man had already finished his work.

"Aren't you going to sleep? I'll just stay here by myself." The priest in black robes sat on the ground, gazing at the distant German positions, lost in thought. "Father, I... I can't sleep." The priest was only about six or seven years older than him, but the young Frenchman always treated him with the respect due to a junior.

"A little excited?"

"Yes…"

"That's perfect, come and get to work." The priest in the black robe tossed something to the French youth, who caught it and saw that it was half a black tire.
-
Boom!
Half-burnt rubber was left on the table in the German command post.

"This is it! It can burn for hours on end, and a dozen or so plumes of smoke can engulf the battlefield. Our gas masks are no match for this kind of situation," someone said, pointing to the "junk" on the table.

"Damn it! They actually used such childish tricks to cripple two companies of our soldiers!" Someone said angrily, slamming his fist on the table.

“This is no small trick.” Manstein stepped out of the crowd and rubbed the ash off the rubber tire with his hand.

“Making so many tricks out of something so readily available, using chaos to achieve the greatest results, it really seems like you’re the kind of guy you are,” the young Junker nobleman muttered to himself.

"Who?" someone asked curiously from the side.

“An acquaintance, a guy who’s supposedly already in his coffin.”

The captain's words baffled the other staff officers. How could a guy lying in a coffin fight them? Wasn't that a monster? Or was it some kind of special metaphor?
But it was obvious that the young nobleman from Berlin was now full of fighting spirit.

Wow!

A map of the battlefield was unfolded, and Manstein placed his hands on it.

"Now the French, under that guy's leadership, have turned the whole position into a rat hole, trying to play hide-and-seek with me using smoke, trenches, and small units."

“Our attack, involving entire companies and battalions, did exactly what he wanted; the longer it dragged on, the happier he would be.”

After saying that, the captain picked up a ruler and divided the French positions on the map into small squares.

"Since he likes to play hide-and-seek, let's smash all his mouse holes one by one!"

Boom boom boom! ! ! ! !

The earth shook, and one explosion after another was heard. The soil was overturned, the hidden trenches were filled in, and the rubber tires that had just been ignited were also extinguished.

One corner of the French position was completely plowed up by the Germans with large-caliber artillery.

After the bombardment, with poison gas clearing the way and fighter squadrons providing support from the sky, the German army, with its overwhelming advantage, sent a force of about a hundred men to retake the positions that had just been "cleared," while the French army made no move.

“Father, shouldn’t we fight back?” Pierre looked at the German soldiers who weren’t far away. If he moved forward a few dozen meters, he could throw a grenade at their heads.

The priest in the black robe shook his head, his expression gradually becoming serious.

"Mansty, congratulations. It's a very successful plan. Apart from the slightly slow progress, I can't find any flaws." Lieutenant General Schäfer put down his binoculars and patted his adjutant on the shoulder with satisfaction.

Perhaps because he was in a good mood, the general even used the simplest nickname when addressing him.

"It's nothing, sir. This is just an optimal solution for our resources. I will resolve the issue of attack efficiency as soon as possible." The young captain stood at attention, his face revealing neither joy nor sorrow.

"It's alright, we've made progress on another front as well. Perhaps soon we'll be able to set foot on the French positions without shelling them." The lieutenant general smiled mysteriously at his assistant.

Fifty kilometers away, Coco Chanel and her patron boarded a car bound for the battlefield.

An "exclusive interview from the battlefield" initiated by the other party is about to begin.

(End of this chapter)