Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 42 The Opponent's Turn

"can!?"

"Nonsense! How could canned food be used as a weapon?!" The commander beside him was about to get angry, but Hoffman stopped him.

"You go on."

"I'm not entirely sure, but it looked like canned goods," the sergeant recalled, then continued, "They hung those things on wires, and when they shook them, they made a really loud noise, and then there were flares..."

Hoffman's expression turned serious as he listened to the report.

Rapid-fire artillery, heavy machine guns, a large quantity of flares, barbed wire that the Russian army almost never uses due to cost issues, and the clattering of cans…

The firepower and equipment displayed by the other side do not resemble those of a battalion-level force. What is most worrying is that, judging from various signs, the other side is very well prepared and seems to have planned to stop them from here in advance.

But without that heavy rain a few days ago, all of this would have been meaningless under their heavy artillery fire.

What makes the Russians so certain? Are they relying on prophecy?!

After a moment's hesitation, the lieutenant colonel turned and asked, "Is there anything else you want to report? Or any information you consider important?"

“This…” The sergeant hesitated for a moment before continuing, “We heard the enemy cheering during our retreat. They seemed to be repeating a word over and over. I couldn’t understand it, but they seemed very excited when they said it.”

"What word?"

"Sir, that seems to be a name..."

"Name? Say it again."

The sergeant repeated roughly one syllable.

Lieutenant Colonel Hoffman took out his notebook and pencil. With a basic understanding of Russian, he tried to reconstruct the name based on the other person's pronunciation. However, he did not know that the name he wrote down was not entirely correct because the sergeant's pronunciation was not standard.

“Ras…Pukkin…”

"Rasputin, is that the commander's name?" The lieutenant colonel repeatedly pondered the word, then ordered, "Summon a few locals; I have something to ask them!"

"Now it's my turn."
-
In the Russian army camp, the soldiers, fresh from a victory, were in high spirits, and during breakfast, one could hear them boasting about their "heroic deeds."

"Pavka! Come here for a second!" The black-robed priest waved to the veteran in the distance.

"Sir, what are your orders?" Pavka trotted over, revealing his signature yellow teeth.

"Tell the soldiers not to shout my name when they cheer, or mix it with other words; it sounds weird."

"Hehe, that's just how these roughnecks are. They were probably too excited yesterday. I'll warn them," the veteran replied with a broad smile.

Look at him, just because he won the battle, this guy who was exchanging cigarette butts in the trenches last month now considers himself to have transcended the category of "rough man".

The atmosphere in the camp is completely different now than before. Everyone thinks that under the leadership of the omnipotent priest, the Germans are like rag dolls that can be easily poked and are no match for him.

But Qin Hao knows his own situation best; he doesn't have any superior military talent, let alone command experience.

All he relied on was the information gap regarding the weather and ample supplies.

Putting everything else aside, during last night's night raid, he had no idea that the Germans could sneak up from the side of the swamp.

Fortunately, a few well-established tricks he remembered helped him "cover up." It was the early stages of World War I, and large-scale trench warfare tactics using trenches, barbed wire, and heavy machine guns had not yet become widespread. This caught the Germans off guard.

As for the alarm system using cans filled with pebbles strung together, it was a common tactic used by the Chinese army on the Korean Peninsula battlefield decades later. According to field tests, the sound of 10 cans strung together could travel 300 meters in a still night, equivalent to the warning range of a company.

Night combat, which consumed large quantities of illumination flares, was the primary tactic the US military used against us at the time. Their main advantage was their vast resources; as long as they had enough illumination flares, there were no blind spots at night.

This basic strategy, which would be used by the two strongest armies on Earth 40 years from now, is surprisingly effective in this era.

The Germans lost around a hundred men, but were not seriously injured. Now that they had used up their three main tactics, it was time for a head-on clash without any tricks.

Taking out the cross in his hand, Qin Hao silently calculated the date and pondered how long he needed to persevere, hoping that the most drastic method wouldn't have to be used.

As if in response to his idea, the opposing side launched another attack.

woo~~~~~~
Several mortar shells whistled across the sky and crashed into the village.

boom! boom! boom!
When the smoke cleared, the village was littered with rubble, a spilled soup pot, a lunchbox filled with pickled cucumbers, and flour scattered everywhere—a shell had destroyed the building that served as the canteen.

The soldiers in the mess hall peeked out from the corner, and only after confirming that the shelling had ended did they stand up and clean up the leftover food on the ground.

"Those damn Germans! They can't even let us eat in peace!" someone cursed angrily.

"That's a despicable tactic; these guys are clearly doing it on purpose!"

"Brother, how many times has this happened today?" the person who picked up the soup pot asked, turning around.

"Seventh time! Oh, damn it! Eighth time! Hide it!"

woo~~~
boom! !

Another mortar shell exploded nearby, and several soldiers scrambled to take cover.

After suffering losses on the first day, the German army quickly changed tactics. Commander Hoffmann made full use of his advantages—their guns were not large in caliber, but they had a large number of them.

The lightweight and flexible small-caliber mortars could fire at Russian positions anytime, anywhere, although achieving results with blind firing was largely a matter of luck. However, it greatly disrupted the rhythm of the defending troops—you couldn't just stand there and not take cover when shells came, so everyone was on edge during rest and mealtimes.

Qin Hao once tried to get his artillery to counterattack, but he only had four rapid-fire cannons and a few skilled artillerymen who knew how to fire them. He was clearly at a disadvantage against this kind of sniper tactics that were almost like playing dirty tricks.

As the shelling continued, injuries became inevitable. Unlucky soldiers kept getting wounded, and the once-empty dressing station became busy again.

But the trouble doesn't end there.

In the evening, Sasha, a young medic, suddenly came to Qin Hao, covered in sweat. "Father, there might be a problem at the camp."

"What happened? Has someone else become infected? Or is amputation necessary?" This was Qin Hao's first thought.

“No, Father.” The young medic shook his head. “I don’t know when it started, but many people in the camp have started having diarrhea, and it’s getting worse and worse. By noon, some people were already talking nonsense.”

"What?!" Upon hearing the news, Qin Hao's heart tightened, and he rushed outside.

Meanwhile, in the distance, several German soldiers, led by a guide, were throwing rotten dead chickens and horse meat into a well at the water source.

(End of this chapter)