Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 17 This Priest Isn't So Cold 3
"To the dressing station?" Qin Hao glanced at the short, fat man in front of him, his hands still working—he was writing a letter home for an illiterate soldier.

“Yes, Father, we have had many wounded soldiers these past few days. Perhaps you could hold a large prayer service for them. Some of the fallen also need a final prayer.” Seeing that the other party hadn’t even lifted his buttocks, Lieutenant Colonel Kazman tried hard to suppress his anger.

Qin Hao looked at the man in front of him and a mysterious smile appeared on his face. "If that's the case, I don't think I have any reason to refuse."

When Lieutenant Colonel Kazman accompanied Qin Hao to the dressing station, the situation there had become extremely bad.

The bandaging station reeked of a foul stench. Despite it being autumn, flies and mosquitoes were still swarming around. Soldiers carried wooden basins filled with blood and casually poured the blood onto the perimeter of the camp.

Someone used a red-hot branding iron to rub the soldier's wound after amputation, and the shrill screams could be heard from time to time.

Without his guidance, the medics were simply unable to care for so many wounded. Now, they had to temporarily draw manpower from the soldiers to help. The only thing these completely untrained guys could do was to categorize the wounded.

The categorization method is extremely crude.

Those who could speak and cry out in pain were considered lightly injured and were all taken inside the shed to wait and see how tough they were. If they were lucky, someone would come and press their wounds with gauze. Those who couldn't speak or were unconscious were laid out on mats outside to die. Once they were completely silent, they were wrapped in the mats and dragged away by special body carriers for burial.

Groans rose and fell. When people are in pain, they subconsciously choose their native language. Slavic, Polish, Mongolian... dialects from different regions were mixed in, but most of them were completely incomprehensible cries of pain.

Even though it wasn't the first time he'd seen such a scene, Qin Hao was still deeply moved.

The lieutenant colonel standing to the side also looked rather grim. Although he himself had suggested that Father Pugin take on this hot potato, he hadn't expected things to turn out this chaotic.

This place doesn't look like a dressing station; it looks more like a large slaughterhouse.

Feeling humiliated, the lieutenant colonel's face darkened, and he shouted, "Medics! Medics!"

"Yes, yes, I'm here, sir..." The young medic rushed over in a panic, holding a short saw in his hand. His apron was stained with blood of unknown origin, and his hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, making him look more like a rookie butcher.

"How did it get like this! Where's Sonop?!" the lieutenant colonel shouted, frowning.

"Sir, Medic Sonop was killed in the bombing yesterday," the medic replied in a low voice.

The lieutenant colonel paused for a moment, then quickly waved his hand. "That's not a reason!"

"Use whatever method you prefer to restore order here! Now!"

“But this…” The young medic looked around blankly, not knowing where to begin.

"Idiot! Clear those areas out first! Take all the 'corpses' away, they look disgusting." The commander pointed to a distant area where the "silent ones" were staying.

Upon hearing this, the medic froze on the spot, and even the other soldiers glared at him with resentment.

The lieutenant colonel's words were essentially tantamount to abandoning the seriously wounded. On the battlefield, no one can guarantee that they won't end up like these people in the next second. Such treatment of the seriously wounded is truly chilling.

"Wait a minute!" a voice stopped Lieutenant Colonel Kazman.

"Commander, I have no intention of questioning your orders, but are these people already dead?" Qin Hao stopped him with a gloomy face.

"He's about to die." The lieutenant colonel, oblivious to the shifting atmosphere, continued, "Don't worry, this place will be much cleaner soon. If you have time, please offer a prayer..."

"Sorry, I can't do it," someone interrupted him again.

"Wh-what?" The short, fat man thought he had misheard.

"Lieutenant Colonel, I said I can't do it." Qin Hao turned around and looked at the people in the dressing station. The next second!
Boom!
The sound of something falling to the ground!
Qin Hao actually threw his brand-new coat on the ground, revealing his clean white shirt, and started rolling up his sleeves.

"Everyone, perk up!!!" A loud shout echoed throughout the tent, drawing the attention of not only the officers but also the lightly wounded soldiers.

Unlike his amiable demeanor yesterday, the Asian priest unexpectedly flew into a rage, pointing an agitated finger at the wounded soldier before him and berating the crowd.

"What are you doing?! Why are you praying?! Are you just going to abandon them like this?!"

"They're still alive! Their wives and children are waiting for them to come home!"

"They're still alive! They were right here with you yesterday, eating hard potatoes, digging trenches, and rolling around in the mud!"

"They're still alive! But if you abandon them today, someone else will abandon you tomorrow!"

After three consecutive roars, the surroundings fell into a deathly silence, and the atmosphere was indescribably eerie.

Beneath Qin Hao's excited exterior, he was actually quite nervous inside. He didn't know what the final effect would be of his behavior, which was so different from his previous "anti-persona" actions.

The next second, sobs could be heard from among the wounded soldiers.

One, two, then a small patch—as the medics began to weep, the emotions around them were completely released.

“Father! I don’t want this either, but I can’t do it!” The young medic collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands and weeping. “I’m just a country bumpkin. I’ve never learned how to bandage. All I have is gauze and iodine… I… I… I can’t do it! I really can’t!”

The young medic wailed loudly, his voice becoming shrill and shrill, sounding like a woman's.

Just as his eyes were blurry with tears, a pair of hands touched his shoulders.

“This isn’t your fault, kid.” Qin Hao, now in a good mood, said in a deep voice, “Come on, give me the gauze, let me see what else I can do for them.”

The crowd automatically parted to make way for the Asian priest, who then took a roll of bandages and began to re-bandage the seriously wounded man who was unable to speak.

Seeing the reactions of those around him, the commander, who had been publicly refuted, felt somewhat embarrassed. He stepped forward and whispered, "Father, if we don't pray for them now, some of them may not have the chance to live to hear the sermon."

The Asian man in front of him paused, but didn't turn around. He simply continued unwrapping the gauze as he spoke.
"The road to heaven is long, and some things can be done along the way. The road of life is too short. I only hope to help them in the present moment."

Upon hearing this, everyone around was stunned. The young medic even forgot to sob, and the wounded soldiers who could still move struggled to lift their heads off the stretcher.

Perhaps because it was after the rain, light shone through the gaps in the clouds, and there was a faint light behind the black-haired, black-eyed figure.

Skillfully cutting open the seriously wounded soldier's clothes, Qin Hao expertly pressed gauze onto the charred wounds, then looked at the medics beside him.

How much alcohol and medicine do we have left?

“Father, there’s only a little alcohol left…and the medicine is long gone…I have no other choice but to pray to God every day…” The medic bowed his head deeply, his voice growing softer and softer.

“Child, this is not your fault. I have seen your efforts, and the Lord will see them too.” The young priest patted the young medic on the shoulder, then slowly put his hand into his pocket.

The blue ID card was pulled out, its gold-embossed cross gleaming in the sunlight.

"Go and get some warm water."

(End of this chapter)