Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei's War Journey

Chapter 70 The First Day on the Battlefield

Bazancourt is a small town in the Champagne region of France, but at this moment it seems to have transformed into a giant military camp.

Trains kept pulling into the station, leaving behind thousands of young faces. The platform was crowded with soldiers, and the air was filled with conversations, officers' orders, and train whistles. These young soldiers were all heading to different positions on the front lines.

As Lu Mingfei and Hansban squeezed off the train and stepped onto the platform, they still felt a sense of unreality. They had just arrived in another unfamiliar country from a strange one, and were about to engage in a life-or-death struggle.

"My God—so many soldiers—" Otto exclaimed in surprise as he looked around.

Indeed, there were many. On the platform, in the station square, and even on the surrounding streets, there were Prussian soldiers in gray uniforms everywhere.

Some were organizing their equipment, some were receiving supplies, and some were just standing there blankly, their faces filled with the helplessness of someone newly arrived on the battlefield.

Caesar and Hoffmann also got out of the car and stood next to Lu Mingfei. This proud young nobleman was still as sharp as ever.

"Is this the Champagne region? — Maybe we can get some good wine here." Caesar took a breath, trying to smell if there was any wine aroma in the air.

He hasn't drunk any alcohol in the past eight weeks except for one glass last night. Before coming here, he used to drink at least a bottle of fine wine worth tens of thousands of dollars every day. Now, in the Champagne region, he sees hope of drinking good wine again, after all, this is the birthplace of Champagne.

According to French law and international treaties, only sparkling wines produced in the Champagne region are eligible to be called Champagne. Similar sparkling wines produced in other regions or countries can only be called sparkling wine, not Champagne.

Looking at Caesar's unchanging confident smile and his thirst for fine wine, Lu Mingfei shook his head, feeling that this guy was truly hopeless.

"Hansborn! Hoffmann's team! Assemble here!"

Hermann's shouts remained clear amidst the noise; he had somehow appeared at the station exit, holding a list in his hand.

He has now truly become the platoon leader of Lu Mingfei's platoon, and also assists the company commander in managing discipline, logistics, and housekeeping.

The position of platoon leader originally required at least a second lieutenant, but their recruit company didn't have many officers. Only two reserve second lieutenants who had recently graduated from military academy were assigned to the other two platoons, so Hermann, an experienced veteran, had to take on an additional position.

Soon, Lu Mingfei's company assembled and began heading out of the city; they were heading to the real front lines.

There were so many new recruits in Bazankur that not many trucks could take them to the front lines; they had to walk. Only a few officers had horses to ride.

At first, they sang military songs as they marched, their morale was very high. They were about to go to the real front line. In their minds, the front line was not only about death, but also about glory and the opportunity to become a Junker nobleman.

But as the march went on for too long, even the most spirited soldiers began to wilt like frostbitten eggplants, hanging their heads and panting heavily; this was the case with Caesar's Hoffmann squad.

Caesar was able to hold on, and he understood that walking such a long distance would indeed be tiring, but he frowned as he looked at the Hansband led by Lu Mingfei ahead.

At this moment, Lu Mingfei's Hansplatoon was the only one that wasn't panting heavily and exhausted like a dead dog. Although they were also drenched in sweat, their breathing remained steady.

The results of those eight weeks of grueling training began to show.

"Damn it—they—how can they walk so fast?" Rudolf gasped for breath in Hoffmann's class.

"Looks like that Hermann guy is really pushing them to the limit," Kleiner said, wiping the sweat from his face.

Caesar silently watched Hansban's retreating figure ahead. Lu Mingfei walked at the front, his backpack pressing down on his shoulder, but he still kept his back straight. Occasionally, he would turn around to check on the class and whisper a few words of encouragement.

At that moment, Caesar realized for the first time that he might not have refused those grueling training sessions.

"Hoffmann! Keep up!" Hermann rode up from the back of the group and frowned when he saw Hoffmann's condition.

"Look at you all! You're already exhausted after only fifteen kilometers? If the enemy were to ambush you now, you'd be sitting ducks!"

He then looked at Hansband, his expression softening slightly: "Hansband has done well, but don't be arrogant, the real test is yet to come."

The column continued forward, and the surrounding scenery gradually transitioned from towns to villages, and then from villages to wilderness. The further they went, the more obvious the traces of war became: bombed farmhouses, scorched orchards, and fields riddled with bomb craters.

As the sun was setting, they finally reached their destination, a small village called Oranville, the garrison of the 73rd Infantry Battalion.

There are only about fifty brick houses in the village, but there is a small castle in the center of the village. It used to be the residence of a landlord, but now it has become the command post of the battalion.

Only a very small number of civilians could be seen in the village, and most of them had shifty eyes and were dressed in rags, but Prussian soldiers were everywhere.

Their uniforms were all tattered, their faces were covered in dust, and they had thick beards. They gathered in twos and threes, looking at Lu Mingfei and the other new recruits, and then said to each other in a joking manner.

"Hey, Dieter, look, another bunch of idiots are coming to their deaths. I bet ten Finneys how many of them can survive the B-section defense line? I think at most a third can last through the first round of shelling."

The old soldier's voice wasn't loud, but it was particularly jarring in the quiet village. Lu Mingfei saw Bruckner's body visibly tremble, and Karl and Otto's expressions also stiffened.

"Shut up, Schubert! Don't scare these children," said a middle-aged man who looked like an officer. He wore an eyepatch over his left eye and had a hideous scar on his face.

The veteran known as Schubert shrugged and walked away with his comrades, but there was no malice in his laughter, only a numb smirk after experiencing life and death.

The one-eyed officer walked up to Captain Henrik and saluted: "Lieutenant Erich, commander of the 2nd Company, 73rd Infantry Battalion, you are the 14th..."

A new recruit company transferred from the reserve division?

Henrik quickly returned the salute: "Yes, Lieutenant, we have been ordered to relieve the B-section defense line."

He tried to appear calm, but under the gaze of the other man's battle-hardened, one-eyed man, his imposing presence was noticeably diminished.

Lieutenant Erich sized up the recruits with his one eye, then said, "Come with me. The battalion commander wants to see you, get some information, and hand over the defense duties."

He led the group toward the small castle. The castle was not large, but the walls were thick, the windows were blocked with sandbags, and two machine guns were mounted at the entrance. It had obviously been converted into a sturdy command post.

Inside the castle, the camp command room was filled with smoke. Several officers were gathered around a huge map table, discussing something intensely. When Henrik and his men entered, a major looked up.

"The new recruits have arrived?" His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Yes, Battalion Commander, the 14th Reserve Division Supplementary Company, 230 men in total," Lieutenant Erich replied.

The battalion commander walked up to Henrik and said, "Captain, welcome to the front hall of hell."

His words made Henrik's face turn pale.

But the battalion commander ignored Henrik's reaction and turned to Herman: "Are you the sergeant major?"

"Yes, sir, Hermann Strauss, recipient of the Iron Cross First Class," Hermann replied, standing at attention.

Upon hearing about the Iron Cross First Class, several officers in the command room glanced at Hermann again. The war had only been going on for a little over a year, and the Iron Cross First Class was extremely prestigious, requiring soldiers to have performed acts of extreme bravery to be nominated.

The veterans who were able to receive this medal just over a year after the start of the war were all ruthless characters who had crawled out of the bloodbath of Toyama.

The battalion commander nodded: "Experienced veterans, very good. Your company will take over the B section of the defense line, starting tonight, for 24 hours."

He walked to the map and pointed to an arc drawn in red: "Section B of the defensive line is in front of the village of Betricourt, and it is 300 meters long. In the past three days, this defensive line has repelled four French attacks, but we have also paid a heavy price."

His finger moved across the map: "The left side is section A, defended by the 1st Company of the 73rd Battalion; the right side is section C, defended by the 3rd Company of the 73rd Battalion. You are in the middle. If your position is breached, the entire defensive line may collapse."

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Henrik's forehead began to sweat: "Yes—yes, Colonel."

Upon learning that the defensive line was only 300 meters away, Hermann's expression became even more serious. The shorter the defensive zone, the more intense the battle would be.

"You have to understand, Captain. You must hold the line for 24 hours. After 24 hours, more experienced units will take over, and you will be assigned to those more experienced companies."

"Alright, take your soldiers and go rest. You have four hours to rest, and then we'll send someone to take you to the defense zone to familiarize yourself with the environment," the battalion commander said, then gestured for them to leave.

Soon, Lu Mingfei and his group were settled in a huge barn where they would rest and enjoy their first meal of the day: mushy bean soup and black bread.

"Squad leader, are we going to the front line in four hours?" Otto asked.

"Okay, when we get to the front lines, as the deputy squad leader, you need to keep an eye on the others, understand?" Lu Mingfei replied.

The Hansband he led, including himself, numbered twenty-five, almost two and a half normal classes. He couldn't manage them all by himself, so he needed someone to assist him. He chose Otto, a burly blacksmith.

Just as Otto was about to say something, a whooshing sound came from the sky. Lu Mingfei didn't react immediately upon hearing the sound, only feeling that it was familiar. But the next moment, his face completely changed.

"Fire! Take cover!" Lu Mingfei's shouts echoed through the barn, but his voice was completely drowned out by the ensuing explosions.

The first shell landed on the edge of the village, the shockwave from the explosion causing the wooden walls of the barn to shake violently, and dust to fall in a flurry. Then came the second, the third—

"Get down! Everyone get down!" Lu Mingfei roared as he lunged at Bruckner, who was closest to him, and pinned him to the ground.

The entire barn instantly descended into chaos. The recruits screamed and cried in terror, some trying to run away, others huddled in corners, trembling.

Only the Hansband soldiers, after their initial panic, quickly followed Lu Mingfei's orders to lie down, covering their ears tightly with their hands and opening their mouths wide to reduce the damage of the shockwave to their eardrums and internal organs.

Although their bodies were trembling with fear, they at least maintained a minimum level of discipline and self-protection, and eight weeks of training came in handy at this moment.

"Don't move! Stay where you are!" Caesar's voice came from Hoffmann's side, carrying an unusual urgency.

But not everyone obeyed the orders. One recruit screamed and rushed toward the barn gate: "I want to get out! I want to leave here! I want to go home! Mom!"

"Come back! You idiot!" Hermann roared, but it was too late.

The recruit had just rushed out of the barn when a shell exploded not far away. Lu Mingfei saw the horrific scene through the crack in the door; the flames of the explosion instantly engulfed the figure.

When the smoke cleared, all that remained on the ground was a pool of blurred flesh and blood and tattered fragments of military uniforms.

The barn was deathly silent, then some people began to vomit, and others began to cry hysterically.

A few minutes later, the shelling stopped completely, and Lu Mingfei and the others stood up warily. They all stared silently at the still-smoking mass of flesh and blood in front of the barn.

Caesar's face was extremely grim; the one who had died was one of his classmates.

After waiting in the barn for a few more minutes and seeing that there was no more shelling, Lu Mingfei began to walk outside. There were soldiers everywhere outside, some carrying corpses wrapped in sheets, and others supporting wounded soldiers who were howling incessantly.

He stared blankly as a blood-covered man was carried into a small hut with a Red Cross flag, while smoke still rose from the distant castle.

He heard the surrounding soldiers talking, as if the castle had been hit by cannon fire and more than ten people had been injured.

Is this what war is like? — Even the rear camps are this dangerous —

"These are just probing shellings; the real shelling will be much larger," Hermann said, standing beside Lu Mingfei.

"Go and clean up the bodies on the ground, then continue to rest."

Upon hearing Herman's words, Lu Mingfei glanced at the pool of blood and flesh and the rags on the ground. He took out the entrenching tool from his waist, intending to scoop up the blood and flesh and bury it.

"I'll handle this—" Just then, Caesar walked over with a livid face. This was his subordinate, and he was to take charge of the matter.

Caesar's hands were trembling.

He looked at the pool of flesh and blood on the ground where his former subordinate had once lay, and his stomach churned. The charred, indistinct mass of flesh, mixed with rags and dirt, was no longer recognizable as human. Only a relatively intact identification tag lay scattered nearby, engraved with the name Werner Vogel, the soldier's name.

"Give it to me." Caesar stretched out his hand, his voice hoarse.

Lu Mingfei hesitated for a moment, then handed him the entrenching tool. Caesar took the tool, gripped the handle tightly with both hands, took a deep breath, and began to shovel at the flesh.

With each shovel stroke, blood seeped out, staining the soil a dark red. Caesar moved slowly and carefully, shoveling up every piece of flesh.

His face was expressionless, but Lu Mingfei saw something shattering in his eyes—his innate pride and composure, being crushed bit by bit by the cruelty of reality.

Kleiner and Rudolf wanted to come and help, but Caesar waved them off, saying, "I'll do it myself."

He continued shoveling, scooping the flesh and blood into a makeshift wooden box. When the last piece of flesh and blood was shoveled up, only a dark brown stain remained on the ground, seeping into the soil like a wound that would never heal.

"Where should we bury him?" Caesar asked, his voice eerily calm.

Herman pointed to a clearing on the edge of the village: "There's a makeshift cemetery there. Many people have already been buried there."

Caesar nodded, picked up the wooden box, and walked step by step toward the makeshift cemetery. Blood seeped from the bottom of the box and dripped onto his footprints.

Behind him followed the entire Hoffmann class, each with their heads bowed and faces pale.