Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 21 The Longest Day (Part 1)
As dawn broke, Qin Hao lay on his cot, fiddling with a signal pistol that had just been handed to him.

The Russian-made M1912 signal pistol is a copy of the German M1892 signal pistol. It has a 26.5mm caliber, a range of 80-100 meters, and can fire white illumination flares and tricolor signal flares.

Thinking about where the gun came from, Qin Hao couldn't help but chuckle.

At the time, he and Kazman asked for a weapon for self-defense, and this was the response they received.

"Your Excellency Father Pugin, according to the Church's requirements, no priest is allowed to carry weapons on the front lines, and I really dare not disobey this order." The lieutenant colonel said this with a smile on his face, as if he had won a victory.

The final result of the tug-of-war was that Lieutenant Colonel Kazman reluctantly handed over a signal pistol to Qin Hao as a substitute.

On the surface, the omnipotent Father Putin suffered his first defeat at the hands of Kazman, but in reality…

Strange noises came from my ears.

Swish~ Click~
Swish~ Click~
Swish~ Click~
He gently got up, reached out and tucked the signal gun into his pocket, and carefully lifted a corner of the curtain.

As the morning sunlight streamed in, Qin Hao squinted, trying to adjust his eyes to the view.

The first thing you see is a sharp short axe.

Qin Hao almost instinctively drew his gun, but the next second he remembered what was going on.

Six people, including Pavka, sat around the tent waiting, their postures varied, but their expressions were respectful.

These people were all found by the veterans he had hired.

The most conspicuous was the taciturn man in the middle. He was the tallest, wearing a soldier's uniform still stained with blood, and was using a small one-handed axe to continuously remove the splinters from two square pieces of wood.

"Vasily, I can't sleep like this," Qin Hao said with a smile, looking at him.

Upon hearing this, the man's face flushed red. He stood up, bowed, and showed a look of fear on his face. His hand, which was not holding the axe, was still rubbing against his trousers.

“Look, look, Vasily, I told you to put that thing away. Do you know how noisy it is? Give it to me now.” Pavka walked over, grumbling, and reached for the axe.

But the normally taciturn man gave the soldier a cold glance, which made the latter's heart tighten.

The seasoned soldier swallowed hard, then withdrew his hand. "Uh, okay, you can keep it for now..."

“The priest told me to do this,” the big man Vasily said sullenly.

"Thank you, Vasily. May I take a look at your tools?" Qin Hao reached out, and the man named Vasily became reserved again, holding a small axe in both hands and handing it to Qin Hao.

He flicked the axe blade with his hand, and the thin blade made a crisp sound. Qin Hao smiled and handed it back.

"That's a really good weapon."

This is not a compliment. In his previous life, Qin Hao personally witnessed this soldier named Vasily use this short axe to cut off the necks of two German soldiers.

The overall quality of Russian soldiers was indeed inferior to that of German soldiers, but this camp had nearly two thousand people. With such a large number, there were bound to be some exceptions. These few were the guys who performed well on the battlefield in my previous life.

Vasily Raskolnikov, a carpenter from the Courland region of the Baltic Sea, was semi-illiterate. The axe in his hand served as both his daily work tool and his weapon in battle.

I don’t know if he has Nordic blood, but this nearly 1.9-meter-tall strong man was much more intimidating when he picked up an axe than when he picked up a gun. The scene of him howling and grabbing an axe to fight hand-to-hand with the Germans that night really had the feel of a Viking war cry.

Not only him, but everyone present had their own unique skills.

Nosayev, a private, has served for five years and is a skilled grenade thrower. For a normal soldier using a wooden-handled grenade, a precise throw of 50 meters is considered excellent (not only distance, but also accuracy). This guy can not only throw grenades over 70 meters but also maintain a certain level of accuracy. It's said he honed this skill by practicing with stones while herding sheep for a landowner when he was a child.

Igor, a private, had served for three years as a heavy machine gunner and was very strong. That night, after the Maxim machine gun position was hit by two mortar rounds, he took over the firing position and mowed down at least a platoon of German soldiers.

Ivanovich Kozlov, the telephone operator, was the only literate among them. He claimed to be able to repair vehicles and use radios, but he never had the opportunity—those skills the Russian army no longer possessed. The last person was an acquaintance, Sasha, a former rookie medic from St. Petersburg, and Qin Hao's current student and devoted admirer.

These people were the team Qin Hao had assembled for himself. Each of them had their own strengths, but they all shared a common trait: a sense of worship, even blind obedience, towards him, the priest in black.

Of course, he couldn't tell them directly that they were there to fight, so Qin Hao came up with a reason on the spot.

"Alright, everyone's here. I need your help." Qin Hao lowered his voice, raised his hand to make the sign of the cross, and put on that sacred expression again.

"As everyone knows, in the past two days, many of our friends have left us forever."

At this point, a somber look appeared on the faces of the people around him, especially Sasha, the medic, who seemed to feel a pang of self-reproach.

Antibiotics can effectively control infection, but they cannot truly bring the dead back to life. Some of the seriously wounded did not survive to the end, and their bodies were left at the rear of the position for centralized burial.

“I plan to hold a large-scale final prayer service for the fallen soldiers and I need to make some preparations, so I’m asking you for your help.”

"Vasily, I need you to make me a large cross. I need it after dusk, is that alright?"

“Yes, Father, I will do my best,” the big man replied in a muffled voice, without saying anything more.

Then, Qin Hao called over the veteran, "Pavka, take Sasha to find some kerosene and lighting supplies. I need them for the final prayer."

"Yes, Father, but there's a blackout rule in the military camp at night..."

"I will speak to the lieutenant colonel myself."

"Yes, Father."

"The rest of you help carry the boxes and set up the altar. Those boxes marked with an X are the ones; remember not to take the wrong one."

"Yes, Father."

The soldiers, having been assigned their tasks, saluted and then began their work.

Qin Hao looked up at the rising sun and took a deep breath. "This day is going to be very long."

As dusk approached, the soldiers learned that the great Father Putin was going to perform the final prayers for the deceased. Overwhelmed with sadness, everyone offered to help, which led to the rapid progress of the altar construction.

A cross about half a person's height was erected on the south side of the position, facing the German positions in the distance. Soldiers carried wooden boxes and placed them at the bottom of the earthen slope, stacking them into a small platform.

"Brother, why did you choose this place for the altar? It's too far away, and it's so empty here." Someone raised their question.

“This is Father Putin’s idea,” Pavka replied casually.

"What's in the box? It's so heavy!"

"They're all rotten potatoes, that's what the priest said," the veteran replied nonchalantly.

"Um, do we have this many potatoes?" His companion reached out to pry open the box to take a look.

“Absolutely not,” Pavka stopped him, saying, “Father Putin instructed that the contents of the box must not be opened before the ceremony, otherwise it will be considered impious.”

"Alright, never mind it, let's go back. The priest said that tonight's side dish is pickled cucumbers."

The two walked away with their arms around each other's shoulders. After they had completely disappeared, a shadow emerged from the corner. The lid of the kerosene can was pried open, and the sound of water could be faintly heard.

(End of this chapter)