Arc of Fire

Previously, when Wang Zhong led his troops from Bogdanovka to Loktov, they took a direct train and, since the unit was small, they arrived without any hitches.

Therefore, he had no actual understanding of the various difficulties encountered during a march that Pavlov had spoken of; his knowledge was purely theoretical.

But two hours after departing from Argesukov, he gained a clear understanding of the “troubles on the road.”

The accidents that occurred when the troops passed through the urban area of Argesukov alone amounted to two, consuming at least five clerks from the headquarters staff to deal with the aftermath, and probably cost the division some Rubles in compensation.

After leaving the city, there were bunches of soldiers who fainted from heatstroke or fell behind due to lack of stamina; the medics and the horse-drawn ambulance carts were never idle.

During a rest after walking for three hours, a soldier went to defecate and stepped into a hole dug by a field mouse, breaking his foot.

What stretched Wang Zhong’s patience to the limit was the accidental discharge of a rifle that occurred in the afternoon.

During a march, it’s customary to keep the ammunition separate from the firearms to prevent accidental discharge if the safety mechanism fails due to jostling. However, one recruit played with his gun and loaded a cartridge while resting, even chambering a round, and forgot to remove it when they assembled.

When the gun fired, the veterans reacted swiftly and immediately hit the ground, while the recruits looked around bewildered and at a loss.

Wang Zhong, not far from the discharge, distinctly heard the scream of the person hit by the bullet—this turned out to be the division’s first firearm injury case since its establishment.

That was just an accident within Wang Zhong’s line of sight; within a marching column of twenty thousand men, the number of such incidents was beyond imagination.

Fortunately, Pavlov was very professional and had organized a small team of staff officers, clerks, and doctors to ride along the column and deal with emergencies.

The long march reminded Wang Zhong of something he read before his time travel, a critique of the “grand battle”: if Baldy’s troops could really march like in the movies, he wouldn’t have been defeated so miserably.

Damn, he had thought that comment was somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but it turned out to be true!

That’s how they continued until 4 p.m., when the troop encountered a horse-drawn cart driven by a local farmer.

The driver was an old man who, upon seeing the advancing troops, immediately steered his cart into the roadside bushes to let them pass.

As Wang Zhong passed by the old man, he made a point to nod and thank him: “Thank you, grandpa.”

“Look at this, what a polite general! General, where are you headed? There aren’t any Prussians over there, are there?”

In the ordinary villager’s mind, there indeed were no Prussians in the direction his troops were headed—the Army Group was still hundreds of kilometers away from Argesukov, and ordinary people were completely unaware of this.

Wang Zhong: “We’re off to garrison. Do you know Orachi?”

“Yes, I know! There’s a big market there twice a month. You can buy horses, iron pots, and even young cows there!”

That was the first time he’d heard of it.

Wang Zhong couldn’t resist asking further: “Can’t you get these things anywhere else?”

“Of course, you can! You can buy anything in Argesukov. See, I am going to my daughter’s place in the city to work and need to bring some things back home.”

Wang Zhong: “Has the war not affected your life?”

“Of course, it has! All the young men in the village have rushed off to Argesukov, and few have returned; then, the girls went too. Old Ivan at the pub has a radio, and it says we’ll defeat the Prussians in a few months!

“Just think about it, with so many good kids gone, surely we will defeat the enemy soon!”

Not having the heart to burst his bubble, Wang Zhong agreed: “Yes, grandpa, that’s right. By the way, do you have any distant relatives? Ones who live far away, preferably to the east of Mount Raoul.”

The old man laughed: “Who has relatives that far away? Nobody in our village does! What’s going on, General? Could it be… that things are actually very bad?”

Yes.

But Wang Zhong said, “We will be victorious, grandpa. It’ll just take a little longer than expected.”

Grandpa: “No worries, it’s all right if it ends before the spring plowing next year. This year, the wheat harvest is already troublesome enough!”

Wang Zhong silently bid farewell to the old man and rode off on Bucephalus in a cloud of dust.

————

That evening, the camp was set up in a village called Relyinsky, much smaller than Bilokotov but larger than Karlinovka, which Wang Zhong had visited before.

In fact, Pavlov had selected four such villages along the route for billeting, with the entire division’s units camping in order according to their position in the column.

The village where Wang Zhong stayed was at the very front of the marching column, sharing the space with the Fifth Bieshensk Regiment.

The reason for placing the Fifth Bieshensk Regiment at the forefront was because it had the most new recruits and the fewest experienced non-commissioned officers, which could lead to many falling behind during the march.

This way, the nearby Guards 31st Regiment could pick up those who straggled.

The technical servicemen, dispersed amongst the infantry units, meant that if anything happened, there were plenty of hands available to push carts and cannons.

Ludmila and the Divine Arrow Company were in the middle of the column, so Wang Zhong should be spending the night alone with just his guards for company—for the first time in a while.

That’s what he thought, but when his staff officer led him to where he was staying that evening, he saw a maid.

Wang Zhong immediately asked the guide: “Why is there a maid?”

Staff Officer: “Isn’t she your orderly?”

Wang Zhong: “I don’t have an orderly, do I?”