Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 9: The Observations of a Minor Character
Russian military position, makeshift dressing station.

A short, stout man in a sergeant's uniform was standing in front of Qin Hao, while Lieutenant Colonel Kazman, the highest-ranking officer here, was looking at him arrogantly.

"Tatars?"

"No, Lieutenant Colonel, my hometown is China. The Tatars you're referring to should be..." This was the only point Qin Hao couldn't admit.

"It doesn't matter, it's all the same." The lieutenant colonel waved his hand casually, interrupting Qin Hao, and then asked, "Are you newly transferred here to help?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Have you studied bandaging?"

"I worked as a helper at a hospital back in my hometown," Qin Hao replied, bowing his head, his response perfectly evasive.

"The Tatars can at least be of some use after all." The short, fat man snorted through his nose, still unable to shake his habitual glibness, and then instructed, "Watch out for those faking injuries. Report them immediately if you suspect anything. These swine are always thinking about deserting..."

A few minutes later, the commander left, and whispers arose among the soldiers:
"An arrogant nobleman," "A bastard who doesn't treat soldiers like human beings," "An idiot who only knows how to order people to charge."

Seeing the commander's expression, Qin Hao was glad he hadn't directly told him about the possible German attack.

Because this arrogant fellow would never believe the words of a "Tartar" he calls himself, and might even think he's making up a lie to desert.

It seems I still have to find a way myself. Qin Hao touched the rifle lying to the side.

Just like last time, Qin Hao managed to get admitted to the treatment center again, but this time he was uninjured, in good spirits, and had time to do more things.

For example, you might hear news that you didn't notice last time because of your injury.

People are often most vulnerable when they are injured. Under the threat of death, many people are in a state of "a dying man speaks kind words".

A soldier with a high fever kept muttering, "I... I've been a thief, a shameful horse thief, but I only did it to make a living... The crops aren't yielding well, and the taxes are too high..."

Meanwhile, a soldier whose stomach had been ripped open and who was unlikely to survive was frantically cursing the quartermaster in his final moments: "That bastard Petrov embezzled everyone's rations and hoarded a whole case of liquor. I saw it with my own eyes! I curse that greedy guy to eat his own tongue and be fed rats and lizards in hell..."

"I was captured, I was captured, I don't want to fight..." This kind of mentally unstable person is actually the most numerous.

The wounded soldiers either confessed, complained, or left some last words; only a minority silently awaited death.

“Tsk tsk, poor fellow, I’ve heard the seventh person give me their last words today. They might need a priest.” Pavka walked over, muttering complaints as he branded a wound on an amputee, holding a red-hot branding iron.

"Then why not find one?" Qin Hao asked casually while checking his weapons.

"What a joke! How could a unit like ours have a priest!" the veteran exclaimed dramatically. "He's a priest, and the entire army group only has a handful of him. If he were here, even the commander might have to listen to him."

Qin Hao pondered for a moment and nodded slightly. He had read relevant information before, and the special profession of battlefield clerk was indeed quite rare in the Russian army, so its status was quite respected.

"Okay, pretend I didn't say that."

Qin Hao casually changed the subject, steer the conversation to what he was concerned about: "Did you bring what I asked for?"

"Hehehe, you've come to the right person. Look what these are." Pavka pulled over a not-so-large bag and carefully opened it.

Inside were bright yellow 7.62mm caliber bullets.

He handed over all the compressed biscuits in his pocket to a seasoned soldier, who then had Pavka obtain them through a private deal within the military.

"Why is there only so little?" Qin Hao weighed the bag in his hand, which he could easily hold in one hand.

“Dude, this is a full fifty rounds. If your goods weren’t so good, we wouldn’t have been able to get this many. Besides, there are freebies here.” Pavka muttered as he shoved another round object into Pavka’s hand. An egg-shaped hand grenade.

“It’s British stuff. It was a lot of work to persuade them to exchange it. Only I could have helped you find such a good item,” Pavka chuckled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

Although he knew that the slippery guy must have skimmed some money in the middle, Qin Hao didn't care too much. He reached out and took the bag, then stuffed the grenade into his pocket as well.

It's somewhat laughable that in a fighting army, some people were using bullets and grenades as "hard currency" to exchange for supplies, which shows how corrupt the Tsarist Russian army had become at that time.

"Pavka, how many people are in this business?" Qin Hao asked while tightening his ammunition pouch.

"Fortunately, most veterans will do some work, some hoping to save their lives on the battlefield, while others just want to fill their stomachs. The leader is Petrov, the guy who was just cursed to eat rats. His private warehouse has enough stuff to arm a whole squad."

Pavka watched as Qin Hao, who was putting away his ammunition, answered without any hesitation, and then asked with some doubt.

"Hey buddy, is this really necessary? We're perfectly safe here. As long as we're careful not to go to the battlefield, isn't that enough?"

Carefully tucking the last few bullets into his pocket, Qin Hao turned around and said, half-jokingly, "If I told you that the Germans would launch an attack in a few days and surround us, would you believe me?"

"Don't joke around, buddy. Although we're not doing too well, we outnumber the Germans five to one. How could we possibly be surrounded..." Pavka waved his hand, as if he had heard something extremely ridiculous.

"Oh? Five times? Who told you that?!" Qin Hao immediately retorted.

"Um, not long ago, on the loudspeaker..." the soldier said in a somewhat uncertain tone.

"Idiot, do you believe what the broadcast says? They even told you that the grain they collected will be returned to you after the war ends?!" Qin Hao interrupted the other person, then lowered his voice, "I served as a messenger in the Sixth Army. I know the news from the front lines. I personally heard those officers say that there are more Germans than we thought. They have transferred more than 100,000 soldiers who were fighting the British."

Strictly speaking, Qin Hao wasn't lying entirely. In fact, the German General Staff had always been wary of Russia, the "steam roller." Although they achieved great success in 1914, annihilating 20 Russian troops, they still had to transfer some troops from the western front to reinforce the eastern defenses the following year.

Qin Hao was simply telling the story of what would happen a year later in advance, hoping to scare this timid guy.

There's not much that can help him right now. Pavka may be a cunning fellow, but he's a veteran who fought for ten years, so he's still a fighting force.

"Is...really?" Pavka hesitated as expected. He was just a country peasant and had never had the concept of being loyal to His Majesty the Emperor.

"You'll find out then. Stick with me these next few days, and I'll take you with me when I run away."

Seeing that the other person didn't seem to be joking, Pavka nodded involuntarily.

Over the next few days, taking advantage of the opportunity to transport wounded soldiers, Qin Hao toured the entire Russian army position and marked several special locations.

On August 26, as the German Eighth Army's First Corps completed its final maneuver by train, the main German force finished encircling the Russian Second Army, while the Russian First Army was still facing off against a small number of German decoy troops at the Angrap River, 70 kilometers away.

To avoid any unforeseen complications, the German main force of 15 troops launched a surprise attack on the Russian army that night, striving to divide their immediate adversary in the shortest possible time.

Hindenburg threw a beautiful left hook at Samsonov.

That night, a German force of 2000 men launched a surprise attack under cover of darkness on Russian troops stationed at a stronghold, with the intention of capturing this important transportation hub.

At first, everything went very smoothly. The scouts successfully approached the front line of the Russian positions, which was 60 meters away, and the attack was imminent.

The next second, a dark, round object was thrown out of the position, tracing an arc, and landed right in the ranks of the scouts.

boom! ! ! ! ! ! !
A massive upheaval has begun!

(End of this chapter)