Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 4 Bandaging (Republished)
The medic was very young, looking only seventeen or eighteen years old, with freckles on his face. He seemed a little flustered when Qin Hao suddenly stopped him.

"Help me, I'm injured..." Qin Hao said, pointing to his shoulder, which was swollen high.

"Uh, okay, wait a minute... I should... um... let me see your injury..." The medic nervously rummaged through his backpack, trying to find a bandage, but in no time he had it all turned into a ball of yarn that a kitten had played with.

Seeing the other party's novice-like performance, Qin Hao felt his blood pressure was a bit abnormal.

This guy doesn't look like a medic at all!
Only then did he realize what the guy meant when he said not to have high expectations. During World War I, the medical conditions of the Russian army were the worst, not to mention compared with Britain, France, and Germany, even the equally weak Austro-Hungarian Empire couldn't compare.

This low level of competence is reflected not only in the scarcity of medical supplies, but also in the quality of personnel.

Typical medics are trained for no more than three days before being sent to the battlefield, and most of them don't even know how to apply a bandage.

Seeing the other person's clumsy movements, Qin Hao had no choice but to endure the pain and say, "Take the gauze and I'll teach you how to do it."

"Heh heh, you're going to teach him? Don't be ridiculous. This is a craft, not just anyone can learn it." The old soldier standing to the side curled his lip.

Qin Hao wasn't in the mood to argue with him. He just weakly began to instruct the rookie medic on how to bandage the wound. Although he wasn't a professional either, he had some basic knowledge of wound bandaging and treatment since he was making a living on his own.

This was enough for him to serve as an instructor during World War I.

A dozen minutes later, an awkwardly shaped ball of bandages took shape on his shoulder, looking ugly like a moth's pupa, but it was indeed finished.

"Wow! You really know how to do this?!" Pavka looked at Qin Hao with some surprise, then carefully examined his hands, which were free of calluses and chilblains. "You're not a farmer? You're a respectable person?"

Qin Hao shook his head weakly, not wanting to say another word.

Surprisingly, the young medic didn't leave either.

"Sir..." the medic hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Come with me, can you help me? I... I don't know anything... So many people have died... I..."

Qin Hao did not respond; he was very weak.

Pavka pulled him back and whispered in his ear, "Are you out of your mind? Just say yes! Or do you want to be a suicide squad again next time?"

Then the soldier, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, said to the medic, "My comrade agreed, but he's not feeling well, so I have to go with him. By the way, could you talk to the officer here?"

The outcome was surprisingly smooth. The position commander seemed completely unconcerned about the fate of the two cannon fodder soldiers, waving his hand to have the medics take them away.

The two followed the medics to the wounded soldiers' camp.

Despite being called a wounded soldiers' camp, it was just a small shed made of logs and tarpaulins. On makeshift stretchers made of tree branches lay wounded soldiers, some groaning and others silent.

Qin Hao glanced around and saw that there were probably two or three hundred people here, but only the one in front of him was wearing a medic uniform.

"Are you alone? Where's your leader?" Qin Hao asked, looking around.

“There were originally three, and Mr. Sonop was the leader here, but after the shelling this morning…” The medic glanced uneasily at the corner where there was a body wearing the same uniform as him.

what! ! ! !

A piercing scream came from afar, and someone in the distance was holding a wooden bowl and smearing an unknown liquid on the wounded. The scream was coming from the wounded.

"what is this?"

“Hehehe, I know that, it’s urine,” Pavka chimed in from the side.

"Urine?"

"Of course, you don't think there's enough alcohol for all of us, do you? Those with minor injuries can just use their urine," the veteran said matter-of-factly.

It was only then that Qin Hao realized that when this guy said he would apply urine to his wounds, he wasn't joking. Many of the soldiers were foolishly believing that urine could replace alcohol for treatment.

Qin Hao shook his head helplessly and said to the medic, "If possible, use alcohol instead; this will only make things worse."

The medic looked troubled after hearing this. He opened his backpack to reveal its contents. "But this is all I have."

A dozen or so rolls of gauze, a bottle of iodine, two bottles of alcohol, two tourniquets, and a saw should be all you need.

Are you kidding me?! A combat unit that looks like it has a thousand soldiers, and this is all the medical supplies they're equipped with?!
"Where are the medicines? Where are the painkillers?!" Qin Hao couldn't help but ask.

"No...no medicine, only two vials of morphine...the officers have already used them all up..." the medic stammered, then carefully asked, "Sir...what should I do?" Qin Hao shook his head and said, "Boil some water and boil the bandages. I'll guide you on how to re-bandage some people."

That's all he knows, and that's all he can do.

For the next two days, Qin Hao spent his time in the wounded soldiers' camp. Many people were brought in, many died, and then more were brought in.

Some people had their legs blown off, some lost half a hand, and some were carried over barely alive.

Here, only simple bandaging is provided.

By the time he was almost numb, the young medic could already complete a bandage in a few minutes without any instructions.

After all, there were just too many people giving him practice opportunities.

By the third day, Qin Hao had no time to think about these things.

His wound also became infected.

When the gauze was removed, stringy, sticky fluid seeped out, emitting a foul odor. Qin Hao didn't have a thermometer, but he knew his temperature must be very high, and he was also in a daze.

After firmly refusing Pavka's urine, the medic secretly used the remaining alcohol to clean his wounds, but was at a loss for what to do next.

Qin Hao didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

At night, Qin Hao leaned against the tent, half asleep. In his hazy state, he felt someone pushing him and putting a bowl of warm food to his mouth.

"Hey buddy, wake up, don't sleep! How are you feeling?"

When Qin Haoqiang opened his eyes, he saw Pavka holding an aluminum lunchbox, with something suspicious inside that he was stirring with a spoon.

The thought of some disgusting possibility filled Qin Hao with terror as he struggled with his last ounce of strength.
"Damn it! Take that thing away! I'd rather die than... Waaah..."

The other person then shoved the spoon into Qin Hao's mouth, interrupting him.

Hmm, it doesn't have a foul smell, it's sweet.

It's sugar water.

"Where did you get the sugar?" Qin Hao asked with his chapped lips after taking another spoonful.

“Hehe, I traded with the guys in the kitchen. I have my own connections. I have relationships with logistics and the quartermaster. As long as there’s something good, I can get you even a field gun.” Pavka grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Why?" Qin Hao asked, still a little confused. Although he had only been here for a few days, he already knew how precious sugar was on the battlefield. The stingy veteran opposite him seemed to have no reason to treat him like this.

“Because it’s worth it.” Pavka looked unusually serious. “You know what? Since you came, at least 10 more people have survived here every day than before. Saving you means at least a platoon can live more.”

“We are country folk, we are illiterate, they call us pigs, but we also have families, and we also want to live…” Pavka’s expression softened surprisingly as he said this.

The veteran paused for a moment, then resumed his cunning demeanor. "Besides, saving a big shot would also benefit me, wouldn't it?"

"A big shot? Me?" Qin Hao looked down at his dirty uniform, not understanding why the other person would think that way.

“This stuff isn’t something an ordinary soldier could produce.” Pavka slyly waved the half-pack of Furongwang cigarettes, then continued, “You’ve never done heavy labor, you’re a battlefield first-aid specialist, and you’re literate and speak foreign languages. You’re not some nobleman, are you?”

"What if I were?" Qin Hao asked, half-jokingly.

"If so, considering we've been eating potatoes together, give me a manor or something after the war, or even a job as a butler if all else fails..." Pavka chuckled, his slick demeanor returning.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked, "By the way, it's been so many days, and you still haven't told us your name?"

Qin Hao tilted his head and thought for a moment, then subconsciously uttered the Russian name he was most familiar with: "My name is Putin."

"Putin? What a great name, I..."

boom! !

Gunshots pierced the night sky, an aluminum lunchbox fell to the ground, and sugar water spilled all over the floor.

(End of this chapter)