Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 33 Rumors
As night fell, the soldiers at the gate of the army group's directly subordinate barracks had just finished their changing of the guard.

The night wind was already quite cold in September. The two sentries rubbed their hands together and chatted about rumors circulating in the military camp to distract themselves.

"Hey, did you hear? We're leaving." A slightly older man said in a low voice.

"Who told you that?!"

“I have a brother who works as an orderly in the General Staff, and he saw officers making evacuation plans.”

"Thank God, this is really good news. To be honest, I don't even know why I came here. What does what's going on in Belgrade have to do with us?" the young soldier said indignantly. "We grow our own food, but we have to feed those lords first, and now we're starving. And now there's going to be a war, but those nobles are taking the opportunity to increase taxes and exploit us."

The veteran's eyelids twitched when he heard the last word, and he suddenly became nervous. "Exploitation? Where did you learn that word? You didn't read those flyers, did you?"

"No, I can't read, I just overheard it by chance," the young soldier explained softly.

"Alright, just listen to it and forget about it. But whatever you do, don't hide those little notes, or you'll get yourself killed," the veteran solemnly warned.

The atmosphere became a bit tense. Realizing he had said the wrong thing, the young man awkwardly changed the subject. He pointed to a campsite in the distance and asked, "Hey buddy, who lives there? Why are they taking up such a big area?"

"The Second Army that withdrew were all Siberian barbarians; don't mess with them," the veteran said after a glance.

"It's just a defeated hunting dog, what gives it the right to be so arrogant?" the young man said, looking unconvinced.

"Defeated dogs? Heh heh, you wouldn't say that if you knew they fought their way through hundreds of thousands of Germans. Remember that brawl at lunch the other day?"

“I know, I heard the scene was quite chaotic.” The young man nodded.

"Because of cutting in line, more than 20 of them chased after a company and beat them up."

"These guys who survived the battlefield are real jackals, the kind that will bite your neck off if they say a word," the veteran concluded simply.
"Don't mess with them."

A snap, the sound of a dry branch breaking underfoot, and footsteps sounded behind them. The two people hurriedly stood at attention.

"Is there any situation?" a patrolling sergeant asked as he walked over.

"No, sir, everything is normal," the two men replied, chests puffed out.

"Good, cheer up, I'll go check the other side." The sergeant nodded, then turned and left.

When he could no longer see the soldiers' sentries, the sergeant tiptoed to a camp and then covered his mouth with his hand, making a sound similar to that of an owl.

Woo——woo——woo——

After a short while, the sound of military boots rang out again, and a figure approached from a hidden corner.

"Comrade! I've finally met you."

The moon moved past the treetops and shone on the face of the newcomer. It was a familiar face—Ivanovich Kozlov, the telephone operator, the only literate person in Qin Hao's squad.

The former telephone operator hesitated for a moment before saying, "In this situation, let's still call each other brothers."

“Alright, as you wish.” The other person didn’t care about these details and reached out to stuff a handwritten note from his pocket into his hand. It contained anti-war slogans and easy-to-understand anti-Tsarist language.

"Be careful to protect yourself, don't do it yourself, you can try to just throw it somewhere that someone will find it." The visitor shared his experience, and Ivanovic nodded gently while holding the note.

After a while, the visitor asked, "How is the combat effectiveness of your soldiers here? How many people can you recruit? We need soldiers now for possible future armed struggles."

The telephone operator fell silent.

"What's wrong, brother?" The other person asked, puzzled. Ivanovic hesitated before speaking, "Well, the situation here might be a little different. I'm not sure how many people I can get."

"How could that be?" The other person looked surprised. "These are all unfortunate people who were oppressed by the evil Tsar and the high and mighty lord. They should be more advanced after being tempered by war."

“It’s different,” Ivanovich shook his head again. “Father Putin is very respected among the soldiers, and they all admire him.”

“A priest? Don’t be ridiculous.” The visitor became angry. “Those priests only use false lies to swindle people out of their last bit of wealth and incite them to die on the battlefield. They are even more despicable than landlords. How can they be respected?”

“Father Putin was different; he could eat with us, sleep on a cold bed with us, and fight the Germans with us…”

"Enough! Comrade Kozlov, your stance is flawed!"

The caller angrily interrupted the telephone operator. After calming himself down and thinking for a moment, he said, "Well then, I've received word that the Tsar's troops are preparing to withdraw, but they will leave some behind."

"I will have people spread rumors that the officials intend to leave them behind and abandon them completely. You can take this opportunity to win over some wavering soldiers."

Ivanovic opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he nodded.

"Let me give it a try."

The next day, rumors began to circulate in the camp that the main force was preparing to withdraw, and that they would be left behind as a blocking force.

"Why?! Haven't we already fought the Germans to the death?! Why do we have to stay here?!" Pavka shouted, jumping up and down at the table, while secretly hiding a pickled cucumber.

"It's supposedly an order from General Lenningkamp; we're from the Second Army," someone muttered.

"No way! I absolutely won't do it! Even if he holds a gun to my head, I won't do it!" said the bombardier, Nosayev.

"Hey, say something." Someone nudged the big guy next to him with their elbow.

Vasily, his abdomen bandaged, glanced at the noisy people around him, silently chipped off a piece of wood with his axe, and said in a deep voice, "I will listen to the priest."

With just that one sentence, everyone realized what was going on.

"Yes! Where's the priest?"

The people looked at each other. By now, everyone had gotten used to it. If there were any problems, they just had to follow the priest's instructions. He wouldn't harm anyone.

But the black-haired pastor hasn't shown up for three days.

The scene suddenly fell silent, and everyone became quiet.

"Do you think the priest might return to Moscow alone, leaving us here?" Finally, someone voiced the doubt that had been on everyone's mind.

Yes, the priest came from Moscow. Now that the war is over, it seems there won't be any problem for him to go back with the troops.

but…

"No, it won't happen!" A weak voice rang out from the corner. The young medic looked at everyone present, her eyes filled with unwavering determination. "The priest would never abandon us!"

Meanwhile, after General Lenningkamp met with the black-haired priest, the first thing the Easterner said was...

"Sir, are you leaving?"

"I want to stay, is that okay?"

(End of this chapter)