Arc of Fire

In Jules 914, on the morning of July 23rd.

The senior officers of the 151st Temporary Infantry Division gathered at the headquarters’ entrance, watching the first vanguard depart.

The primary mission of this unit was to requisition houses in Olga, prepare accommodations for the troops arriving later, and communicate with local churches and municipal authorities.

Wang Zhong instructed Popov, who was leading the team, “Make sure to get along with the church! We have just over ten thousand non-combatant personnel, which definitely isn’t enough. My defense plan needs a lot of labor, so get the church to organize enough workers!”

Wang Zhong had already understood that mobilizing the lower classes in the Ante Empire relied on the church, which had penetrated every corner of the empire through low-priced food stores, various service societies, and more.

In comparison, the empire’s nobility was genuinely lacking.

Popov said, “You plan to implement those tank shelters of yours? That really does require a lot of labor.”

After all, the tank shelters Wang Zhong wanted to dig were large enough to accommodate an entire tank, which meant a significantly large amount of earthmoving work.

Wang Zhong said, “I’m counting on you. With so few tanks to hold off an enemy armor cluster, there’s no other choice.”

After saying that, he gestured to the driver: “Let’s go!”

Thus, the vanguard squad set off, consisting of five jeeps and trucks.

The last truck carried a large stack of wooden signs, which were to be used for directions on the road.

As Wang Zhong watched them disappear into the distance, he turned to see the troops making preparations to depart.

Moving the main force was not like the small vanguard that could set out with just five vehicles. The main force had to decide on a marching order, distribute marching maps, arrange for personnel to direct traffic at crossroads and other places where it was easy to take the wrong path, form small teams to assist stragglers, and so on.

Moreover, this time the armored units had to travel on tracks, and there might be breakdowns along the way, necessitating the mobile repair teams traveling by truck.

In short, ensuring the movement of the 151st Division—an enhanced division by the standards of the Ante Army—over a hundred kilometers to an unfamiliar city was a technical task.

This job was a true test of the capabilities of Chief of Staff Pavlov and his division headquarters staff.

Wang Zhong, the division commander, could afford to be hands-off; once the troops set out, his task was to ride Bucephalus among the columns to boost morale.

Thinking of Bucephalus, Wang Zhong decided to visit his beloved horse in the stables.

————

The 151st Temporary Infantry Division did not have the term “mechanized” in its definition, so its logistics were rather free, having both trucks and mules.

However, if it were to become a mechanized infantry division, under the rigid doctrines of the Ante Empire, the entire division’s supply would have to be by truck alone—after all, it’s a mechanized unit!

For the Ante Empire, which was still rather weak industrially, this would be a disaster: there simply wouldn’t be enough trucks.

Currently, the 151st Division had about 4,000 mules and almost the same number of horse-drawn carriages. There were also three thousand coachmen, in addition to several hundred logistics personnel responsible for the care of the horses, such as veterinarians, blacksmiths for shoeing horses, and so on.

The stables were bustling with horses, luckily spacious enough due to the duke’s own equine interests; otherwise, the horses would have had to sleep under the open sky at night.

Seeing Wang Zhong enter, Bucephalus became excited. It probably sensed the impending departure and kept shuffling its hooves, forcefully hitting the horse stall.

While patting the horse’s neck, Wang Zhong whispered softly, “Take it easy, you’ll get to run your fill today, we have a hundred kilometers to cover! Two days!”

Another problem with the march was setting up camp in the middle, a complicated affair. Thinking of this, Wang Zhong felt a bit of sympathy for Pavlov, wondering if the staff and clerks added to his team were sufficient.

In any case, Wang Zhong was resolved to take a hands-off approach—oh no, rather, “leave professional matters to the professionals.”

At that moment, Bucephalus calmed down under Wang Zhong’s touch and then grabbed Wang Zhong’s cap with his teeth and tossed it aside before starting to chew on Wang Zhong’s hair.

Damn it, what’s with this horse?

Because I hadn’t washed my hair for a long time due to battle, it might have had a scent that horses like. But now my hair was washed by Ludmila, scented only with perfume! After washing, Ludmila even helped me with hair wax!

Would a horse like perfume and hair wax?

No sooner had Wang Zhong thought this than Bucephalus shook his head, spit on the ground twice, and then distanced himself from Wang Zhong’s hair.

Haha, got a taste of the perfume and hair wax, huh? Serves you right!

Wang Zhong bent down to pick up his cap, brushed the dust off it, and put it back on. Just then, the air raid alarm sounded.

“So they’ve finally come to air raid Argesukov…” Wang Zhong muttered, taking three steps out of the stable, and looked up at the sky.

Switching to a bird’s-eye view, one could clearly see a formation of about thirty bombers and almost the same number of escort fighters.

Considering the direction of the flying squadrons, Wang Zhong surmised that the bombers’ target was again the train stations, locomotive repair yards, and locomotive marshaling yards. They were clearly hoping to weaken the Ante Army’s resistance by striking at its logistical transport.

Unfortunately, on the vast territory of Ante, it’s almost impossible for the Air Force to completely cut off the rail transportation.

In such a vast space, it was not easy for Prosen’s attack planes to locate a train, and by the time they finished the attack and recorded their achievement, a look at the fuel gauge: uh-oh!

As Wang Zhong gazed at the sky in deep thought, a messenger riding a horse galloped over and shouted from a distance, “General Rokossovsky, the Chief of Staff sent me to inform you that you can depart immediately.”

At that time, the sound of enemy aircraft bombs hitting the ground could be heard in the distance.

Wang Zhong: “We’re departing now? Isn’t there some kind of oath-taking rally or something?”

The messenger looked bewildered: “What oath-taking rally?”

Right, they don’t have that tradition here.

He had thought that since this place had the real “Divine Power,” before setting off to fight the infidels, there would be a splendidly dressed Archbishop conducting a mass or something, right?

Then a nun would recite the Emperor’s quotations while purifying all heretics with flames.

Wang Zhong gathered his thoughts and said to the messenger, “I’ll be right there.”

The messenger saluted and turned his horse around to leave — due to the particular nature of their profession, messengers could ignore some of the military’s cumbersome formalities, like dismounting before saluting a superior officer who was not on horseback.

After watching the messenger leave, Wang Zhong turned back to his old partner and had a sudden idea: “How about I fit you with a saddle this time?”

Bucephalus immediately shook its head, clearly and decisively expressing its refusal, obviously knowing that Wang Zhong didn’t have a clue about how to fit a saddle on a horse, and that forcing it could end in disaster.

Wang Zhong: “Alright, alright, Grigori! You put the saddle on it!”

Hearing the name Grigori, Bucephalus calmed down.

Grigori approached, “General, saddling a horse is actually quite easy, I can teach you.”

Wang Zhong: “Good, good, teach me quickly.”

————

On July 23rd, 914 Jules, at 1210 hours, Wang Zhong rode Bucephalus and left with his troops from the temporary location of the 151st Division.

Old Rokossov stood at the gate of the manor with a few maids to see them off — most of the maids had been evacuated. The Duke of Rokossov had estates east of Mount Raoul, where the maids were sent to engage in agricultural labor.

As Wang Zhong passed by the old duke, he saluted him.

The old man happily returned the salute, then also made a “V for Victory” gesture, a masterpiece of the war minister of the United Kingdom in this world.

Wang Zhong also smiled and made a “V for Victory” gesture.

Latter, after he had traveled a long distance and looked back, he could still see the old duke standing at the gate, gazing in his direction.

Finally, Wang Zhong turned a corner on Bucephalus, and neither the iron gates of the manor nor the old father at the entrance could be seen anymore.

But someone ahead was calling him, “Alyosha!”

Wang Zhong turned and saw the Crown Prince standing on top of an extravagantly luxurious imported sports car, cupping his hands before his mouth like a megaphone and shouting, “Alyosha! Have a good journey!”

To be honest, although the Crown Prince was a bit of a playboy, he was really not bad when it came to brotherhood. So Wang Zhong also shouted, “Take care! Your Highness!”

He thought about it and felt it wasn’t clear enough, so he plainly said, “Hurry back to Yekaterinburg!”

Crown Prince: “Why should I return to Yekaterinburg while you are fighting? No, I am here under the Emperor’s orders to supervise the troops!”

Wang Zhong: “Your Highness!”

This place would soon be encircled — he couldn’t say something that could so easily shake the morale of the troops, at least not in public.

As he hesitated, the Crown Prince shouted, “This is for you!”

No sooner had the words fallen than the Crown Prince threw something at Wang Zhong, which reflected the golden sunlight as it spun through the air.

Wang Zhong barely caught the item and realized it was the seal ring he had used once before, with red residue of the seal wax still lingering in the crevices on its face.

Wang Zhong: “I can’t keep this!”

“Take good care of Olga!” the Crown Prince responded with an incongruous statement.

Wang Zhong pondered the meaning of those words but then noticed that the Crown Prince had stopped waving. He stood on the back seat of the luxury car, looking forlorn yet resolute.

The summer sun poured down from above his head.