The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

The next morning, Harris led Joseph into Captain Wilson's bunker.

Captain Wilson took the map and studied it for a long time. He was Welsh, in his early forties, with the weariness of long service on the front lines in his eyes, but beneath that weariness lay a layer of clarity—something unique to those who survive the battlefield.

"Are you sure about the blind spot of that sentry post?"

"Confirmed. Although it was a visual inspection, the error is minimal."

"Where's the barbed wire?"

"There are two lines on the outside and one on the inside, about ten meters apart. There is a rotten wooden stake on the outside, and the iron spikes have separated from the wood. It would take no more than three minutes to cut it open."

"If the ammunition depot is blown up—" Captain Wilson looked up.

"The German heavy artillery supply on the western flank has been cut off for at least two days," Joseph said. "The three 105mm guns are out of ammunition; they're just three piles of scrap metal. These two days are our window of opportunity to repair our fortifications."

Captain Wilson flipped the map over, then back over, and looked up at him: "How old are you?"

"Twenty years old, sir."

Captain Wilson put down the blueprints and leaned back in his chair. "I need to report to the battalion commander. Go and wait for news."

*************

While waiting for news, Joseph wrote down the night raid plan on four pages.

Route, time window, barbed wire handling, division of labor between assault and cover teams, retreat signal, alternative plans—every step has variables, and every variable has a countermeasure. He wrote quickly, his thoughts were clear, and in his mind, that logic had already been processed more than once.

O'Connor, sitting beside him, nudged his arm with her unlit cigarette: "What are you thinking about right now?"

"plan."

"You've been thinking about this for two hours." O'Connor shifted her position. "You know, most people, while waiting for approval, are actually praying in their minds that it won't work, so they don't have to take the risk."

"The same to you?"

“No.” O’Connor paused, his tone unusually devoid of sarcasm. “I’m waiting for you to finish writing those four pages. Because as long as you’re still writing, it means you believe this action can succeed. And I’ve never seen anything that you believe can succeed fail.”

This was probably the most direct thing O'Connor ever said to him.

Joseph folded the fourth piece of paper and put it in his pocket.

At 2 PM, the messenger arrived; the operation would take place at midnight tonight.

*****************

An hour before midnight, Joseph explained the plan to the twelve men who had set out. They gathered around the muddy ground at the bottom of the trench and pieced together a topographical map using sticks and stones.

"Splitting into three groups," Joseph said. "The assault group—me, O'Connor, McDonald, and Wilkins—will handle the barbed wire, the assault, and the destruction of the target. The cover group—" he pointed to four men, "will suppress the outposts on both flanks from these two positions, and not fire unless spotted. The support group will guard the trench entrance and make sure someone picks us up on our way back."

"Retreat signal: Two short whistles, mission accomplished, everyone retreat along the route. If there is only one whistle, or no whistle at all—the cover team immediately pulls out smoke to create chaos, then everyone runs."

No one asked any questions.

"What does someone want to say?"

Wilkins raised his hand: "Can I bring my lucky coin?"

"Bring it, but it can't make a sound."

Wilkins took the coin out, tied it with a strip of cloth, put it back in his pocket, and nodded in satisfaction.

O'Connor said in a low voice, "I thought he was going to ask if I could bring the mouse."

"Check your equipment. Assemble in one hour."

******************

For that hour, the trenches were very quiet.

Tom sat leaning against the trench wall, his gun beside him, which he had already cleaned three times that day. He just sat there, his gaze fixed on some non-existent place.

Joseph sat down beside him. "Scared?"

"A little scarier than the last reconnaissance mission," Tom said honestly, "but a little less scared than my first time on the battlefield."

“That’s right,” Joseph said. “Just enough fear keeps you alive, too much makes you make mistakes, and too little makes you careless.”

Tom nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Joseph, tonight...we can all be back, right?"

"I've calculated everyone's location and route," Joseph said. "I've calculated everything that needs to be calculated."

Tom leaned back against the trench wall and said nothing more. That was enough—Tom didn't need assurances; he just needed to know that someone had done the math.

*******************

Midnight. The no-man's-land was pitch black. Thick clouds hung low, and not even a star could be seen.

Joseph crawled out of the trench, activated his perception mode, and scanned the area—two sentries ahead, still in their positions. The sentry to the left, also in his usual spot. Same as last night.

He pointed two fingers forward, indicating that he was moving forward.

The twelve men split into three groups and entered the no-man's-land. The assault team was at the front, led by Joseph. He had walked this route the night before; he knew exactly where every shell crater was and where to avoid the spikes. He didn't need to fumble around; he just kept going.

The mud is still icy, it doesn't matter, I'm used to it.

At seventy meters, Joseph stopped and focused his senses on both sides—the left side was a sentry post, still; the right side was a blind spot, empty, unchanged. He beckoned, leading the three men closer to the rotten wooden stake.

The second barbed wire fence. They lay here yesterday, carefully observed what they needed to see, and then retreated the way they came. The first fence already had an opening; they came in through the old cut. This one hadn't been touched yet.

McDonald was in position, and Joseph gestured: Cut.

McDonald took the wire cutters out of his collar and held them close—

The barbed wire made a clicking sound.

The sound of metal loosening was crystal clear in the silence.

All four people lay still.

Five seconds. Ten seconds. The sentry posts on both sides remained still.

McDonald continued, slowing down and pausing for ten seconds after each cut. The second barb on the inside was denser, and it took him nearly ten minutes to cut a gap large enough for a person to pass through sideways.

Joseph went first, followed by O'Connor, McDonald, and Wilkins, the four of them passing by sideways one by one.

The distance from the inside of the wire mesh to the earthen embankment is approximately thirty meters.

The four of them climbed for nearly ten minutes, because they had to confirm safety before taking the next step. They used their senses to track the left and right sides, and if there was any change in density on either side, all four of them would lie down and wait until it was stable before continuing to climb.

The sentry on the left stood up and took a few steps—

All four of them lay face down, their breaths suppressed, becoming part of the mud.

The German soldier stopped, unzipped his pants, and began to urinate, about five meters from the bomb crater where O'Connor was hiding.

O'Connor was completely petrified, not even daring to move her eyes.

After the German soldier finished urinating, he fastened his trousers and glanced casually in this direction.

It paused for two seconds.

Joseph's heart pounded ten times faster in those two seconds. He even worried that the person might hear the sound.

Then that person turned back and walked away.

did not see it.

O'Connor slowly lifted her head out of the mud, turned her face to the side, and silently moved her lips twice. Judging from the shape of her lips, it was probably an interjection, not appropriate to repeat in a formal setting.

*****************

The earthen embankment has been reached. Joseph switches to visualization—the ammunition boxes are still there, in the same position, and fifty meters away, the heavy artillery muzzles are pointing directly at the British positions.

He gestured to McDonald, indicating that he could start planting the explosives.

McDonald nodded and reached into his backpack for explosives.

Joseph waved and gestured to O'Connor and Wilkins: "Cover the left and right sides. If I give the signal, run immediately, no matter what happens. Don't wait for me."

O'Connor made no gesture, only glanced at him for a second, and then crawled away.

Wilkins gave a "good" sign and crawled away.

McDonald started crawling toward the ammunition box.

Joseph lay prone on the edge of the earthen embankment, simultaneously tracking his senses along three lines: McDonald's location; the left sentry post; and the right sentry post. He couldn't afford to lose sight of either.

There is a gap at the bottom of the ammunition box, just big enough to fit an explosive charge.

McDonald pushed the explosive charge in. The sentry post on the right was just thirty meters away from him; the German soldier was leaning against a wooden stake, his rifle butt tapping on the ground, half asleep, his hat askew.

McDonald continued his actions.

The explosive charge is stuck.

The gap was narrower than expected. McDonald's hand stopped; he changed his angle, pushing gently, even more gently—

The rifle at the right-hand sentry post slid slightly. The man jerked his head up, scanned the area, yawned, and leaned back down.

Joseph focused his perception on that density, held his breath and counted to three, and only turned his gaze back after confirming that the other party had not continued to move.

The explosive charge was stuffed inside.

McDonald began attaching the fuse. He held the explosive charge down with his left hand to prevent it from shifting, and with his right hand, he inserted the fuse into the tail of the detonator and secured it.

Joseph's senses swept across the right side—

The density at the right-hand sentry post is shifting; it's moving in this direction.

Shift change.

Joseph immediately calculated the pace and stride in his mind: in forty seconds, he would reach the ammunition box.

McDonald's isn't finished yet.