Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 66 Never Abandon, Never Give Up

Caesar finally saw Hermann at the entrance of the canteen.

Herman didn't eat; he just stood alone in the shadows outside the canteen, leaning against the rough wooden wall, a cheap cigarette between his fingers, as if waiting for something.

"Sergeant Herman, the company commander requests your presence in his office," Caesar said as he approached Herman.

Hermann slowly turned his head, his eyes filled with indifference as he looked at Caesar.

"Understood." Herman said only three words, threw the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, crushed it with the sole of his boot, and then strode slowly toward the company commander's office, without even glancing at Caesar.

Hermann's dismissive attitude displeased Caesar, but at that moment all the members of Hoffmann's class in the dining hall looked at Caesar with expectant eyes.

Caesar then gave them a victorious smile.

Meanwhile, Herman had already pushed open the company commander's door: "Company commander, you wanted to see me?"

"Just now, Hoffman came to me to report on the afternoon's drill and filed a formal complaint," Henrik said bluntly, his tone extremely cold.

Herman stood at attention, his posture impeccable, his face expressionless: "Reporting to the company commander, the exercise plan has been submitted in advance. The use of live ammunition and tear gas is to simulate real battlefield threats to the greatest extent possible, to stimulate the recruits' instinctive reactions and will to survive. All safe distances have been rigorously calculated, and there are emergency preparations on site. I believe that taking necessary risks within a controllable range is an integral part of effective training."

"Necessary risks? But your report didn't mention using live ammunition! Nor did it mention tear gas! You're deceiving your superiors and acting on your own initiative!"

Captain Henrik slammed his hand on the table, his anger barely contained; this was the one thing he could not forgive.

"Sergeant Hermann, I respect you. You are the only one in our company to have received the Iron Cross First Class. Your training in the past was strict, but at least there was a limit. Why are you so extreme now? The Prussian army has never used live ammunition to drop shells directly on the heads of its own recruits."

Henrik had turned a blind eye to Herman's behavior because Herman had real military achievements, which were the reason he was able to go from the front lines to the recruit training camp in the rear.

But he was now truly enraged, not only because of the complaint brought by Caesar, but also because of Hermann's completely out-of-control and insane actions that put him, the company commander, at risk.

"Company Commander, may I ask—have you ever been to the front lines? Have you ever seen the real Western Front?" Hermann did not refute Henrik's rebuke, but asked in an unusually calm tone.

Henrik was stunned. He had been parachuted into the training camp as a company commander and had never even seen what the front lines were like.

Hermann did not wait for his answer, or rather, his question itself did not require an answer.

"Company Commander, even though I used mortars and released gas today, I haven't even shown one percent of the horror of a real battlefield—on a real battlefield, shells rain down like raindrops, making it impossible to distinguish between near and far. You only know that you might be blown to pieces in the next second, while yellow or green poison gas constantly permeates the air. Just one breath and your lungs will rot, your skin will blister and ulcerate, and you'll die a agonizing death—"

Hermann's body trembled uncontrollably, his eyes filled with fear, as if he were seeing that scene again.

"Now the higher-ups have compressed the recruit training period from the original four months to just ten weeks! Ten weeks! And they're sending these boys who were working in the fields and screwing screws in factories just yesterday to that meat grinder!"

"If we continue as before, just marching in formation, firing blanks, and digging trenches, without letting them experience even a little bit of the cruelty and pressure of a real battlefield beforehand, then sending them up there is just suicide! They're just cannon fodder thrown into the trenches! I'm doing my best to ensure that as many of them as possible can survive the first month! Even if it's just one more day!"

Hermann's chest heaved violently, his red beard trembling with each breath. This battle-hardened Iron Cross recipient was afraid, terrified.

The office was deathly silent, save for Captain Henrik's heavy breathing. He slumped back into his chair, the anger on his face gone, replaced by a complex expression.

Looking at the old soldier before him, who resembled a wounded and trapped beast, he felt for the first time so clearly what kind of hellish despair and despair those medals represented, a place that devoured everything.

After a long silence, Captain Henrik let out a deep sigh.

"I understand—but Herman, you must reduce the intensity of your training. What happened today must never happen again. This isn't the first time I've received your complaints. I've always suppressed them for you before, but this time is different, Herman. This time it involves live ammunition and chemical agents, so the level of risk is completely different."

"If there is a serious accident resulting in casualties, then even if I wanted to protect you, I wouldn't be able to. At that time, the only thing I can do is to report to my superiors and apply to transfer you back to the front-line troops."

Upon hearing the words "reassigned back to the front lines," Hermann's eyes twitched violently: "I know."

Upon hearing Hermann's reply, Henrik waved his hand, indicating that he could leave: "Go, think carefully about future training plans, report them in detail in advance, and any risky subjects must be approved in writing by me."

"Yes, sir." Hermann saluted and turned to leave the office.

On his way back to the barracks, Herman walked alone, his shadow stretched long by the gas lamp, making him look exceptionally dejected. He stopped as he passed the corner of a row of barracks.

Cesare Gattuso was standing there, with his back against the cold brick wall, seemingly waiting for him.

He walked up to Caesar, his eyes colder than ever before.

"You'll get rid of all your men sooner or later." There was no anger in his tone, only certainty.

Caesar glared back defiantly and said, "Absolutely not, and I will lead them to the glory they deserve."

"Glory? How childish—" Herman sneered, and then, without lingering or even glancing at Caesar, he turned and strode away with heavy steps.

Meanwhile, Lu Mingfei and the others were panting like oxen; they had run twenty kilometers and returned to their camp.

"Alright—you guys go eat, lest there's nothing left to eat later—" Lu Mingfei said to the rest of his class. He still had ten kilometers to run.

"Squad leader!" Otto said, panting heavily.

"How about we stop running? Anyway—that bastard Herman—nobody knows—"

"Yeah, class monitor!" Karl chimed in, panting. One of his legs seemed to have cramped up, and he was painfully rubbing his calf.

"No need to run anymore—we—we absolutely will not tell anyone—"

"That's right! Herman is deliberately messing with us!" Bruckner cursed, his voice trembling with tears. He was the youngest and the weakest, and his face was as pale as paper. He was being supported by his comrades.

"No, I made a very serious mistake today, I have to run." Lu Mingfei shook his head.

"What mistake?!" Otto exclaimed, his voice rising in alarm.

"It's all that beast Herman's fault! That bastard! He bombarded us with real cannons today! And he tried to suffocate us with gas! He was trying to kill us!"

"Yes! Herman is a devil!"

"Damn it!"

"I want to write a letter to tell my mother—"

The other soldiers were also aroused and joined in the cursing.

"Stop cursing!" Lu Mingfei suddenly raised his voice to interrupt them.

Looking at the indignant young faces around him, he continued, "Hermann is a good instructor. What if today wasn't an exercise but a real one? Would we all be dead? With this lesson learned, I believe we can all survive the next time we're on a real battlefield."

Lu Mingfei's words quieted down the members of Hansband.

Yes, if those shells falling from the sky today, that pervasive poison gas, were real, would they still be standing here complaining?

Otto recalled the terror of almost being thrown back by the shelling, Karl recalled the panic of not being able to put on his gas mask properly, and Bruckner recalled the despair of collapsing to the ground—

These images flashed through their minds, choking back their curses against Hermann, replacing them with a sense of lingering fear and relief.

"The squad leader is right—we shouldn't have cursed him—" Brookner muttered softly.

"Alright, everyone go eat, shower, and sleep. Training continues tomorrow. Just remember today's lesson." Lu Mingfei waved his hand, interrupting the others, then slung his backpack over his shoulder and continued running. He still had ten kilometers to go.

To his surprise, the others from Hansband did not leave but followed behind him.

"What are you doing?" Lu Mingfei asked, somewhat surprised.

"We made the mistake together, so we should be punished together," Otto said breathlessly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even though the muscles in his face were contorted with pain.

"That's right, we're a group, we're members of the Hansbands," Karl interjected, trying to straighten his back.

Lu Mingfei was stunned. He looked at the faces behind him, all equally tired yet stubborn, and felt as if something was blocking his throat, leaving him speechless for a moment.

Otto, Karl, Bruckner, and more than twenty other young soldiers, despite being exhausted and able to return to the warm mess hall and barracks, chose to stay in the cold night, following behind their errant squad leader.

"Never abandon, never give up." Someone whispered, the voice was soft, but it was like a spark that ignited the passion in everyone's hearts.

Lu Mingfei's nose tingled slightly. Was this what it felt like to be trusted?

"A bunch of idiots—" Lu Mingfei muttered under his breath, unsure whether he was cursing them or himself.

He wiped his face hard, suppressing the bitter emotions that welled up inside him, turned around, and stopped looking at them. He just said in a hoarse voice, "Follow if you want, but I won't stop to wait for you if you fall behind."

After saying that, he took another heavy step and ran towards the darkness along the dirt road that encircled the camp.

The members of Hansband looked at each other, no one spoke, they just silently adjusted their breathing, and took steps with legs that felt like they were filled with lead, following behind Lu Mingfei.