Arc of Fire

“`

July 9th, 1050 hours.

By now, the view outside the train car—well, the stuffy boxcar didn’t have windows, and the door hardly showed any trace of the war’s scars anymore.

In the glow of the rising sun, the fields of the Kazaria Kingdom were lavishly revealing their beauty.

Before crossing over, Wang Zhong had seen an anti-American war film by a famous director, and the scene that impressed him the most was when the protagonist, traveling by train to the border, opened the door to glimpse the grand landscapes of his homeland.

Although that scene looked somewhat cheap due to budget cuts in favor of high-profile celebrities, the scenery was undeniably picturesque.

Now, looking at the grasslands of Kazaria, Wang Zhong was reminded of that moment.

As he was reflecting, Yegorov said, “I’m starting to think this grassland really isn’t suitable for defense. In the future, when our power increases, I wouldn’t be surprised if the battles here turned into tank tug-of-wars, and then, there will be destroyed tanks everywhere.”

Wang Zhong admitted he was right.

Yegorov continued, “General, what rank do you think you’ll be promoted to when you get back? Maybe another two ranks, to major general?”

Wang Zhong, currently a brigadier general, also known as a brigade general, would add a star to become a “two-bean” major general, commanding a division.

Then the next rank up was the three-bean lieutenant general, in charge of an army, or possibly becoming a deputy in an army group, or the head of a major military region without active combat, and there was some chance he could become the commander of a smaller strategic direction in the Front Army.

Wang Zhong wasn’t familiar with the Ante Empire’s promotion system, but he knew very well the Soviet promotion system on the Eastern Front during World War II.

There were many instances of officers being promoted to major general on the battlefield, but rising to lieutenant general was much more difficult, usually requiring three years from the start of the war.

So he said, “They’ll probably make me a major general and then continue to stuff me with mixed forces.”

Ludmila joined the conversation, “Why do you think so? Maybe they’ll give Alyosha a reorganized division.”

Wang Zhong: “No, no, I’d rather they didn’t give me a reorganized division. The 31st Guards and… and the Parade Tank Regiment as well as the Parade Artillery Regiment, they’re all seasoned troops, tried and tested. With a new unit, it would take time for them to get used to me.”

What Wang Zhong meant wasn’t that he would have trouble commanding new unit members—military hierarchy is strict, and even new officers will have their orders obeyed, as that is the nature of the military.

What Wang Zhong was referring to was his own “cheat code”; if the men didn’t “accept” him and genuinely acknowledge him, he would face limitations in gaining insight on the battlefield.

Of course, once the fame of the ‘White Horse General’ grew such that any new unit would wholeheartedly accept his command, things would be different.

“No matter what rank you reach, I think you should get an orderly to look after your daily life as soon as possible. I’ve noticed that your clothes are just thrown there as soon as you get them back from the laundry squad! You need an orderly to take care of you!” Ludmila said.

Wang Zhong: “Don’t I have you?”

“I can’t stick with you all day!”

So it can’t be? Disappointing.

“Don’t look so disappointed. I’ll try my best to be with you!”

Sofia watched the two of them and said, “If the general becomes a major general and division commander, then as a Hymn Monk I must always be by the general’s side. How about I take on the role of orderly? I’m quite skilled at household chores!”

Wang Zhong: “That could work. But would that be proper? Would Popov have any objections?”

Yegorov and Ludmila answered in unison, “Definitely.”

So they definitely would! Then I’ll get one with a big chest, who also wears a maid’s outfit.

Ludmila: “Don’t even think about bringing a maid into the troops. Even if one came, she would have to wear the orderly’s uniform, not a maid’s outfit.”

What? That’s a shame!

But in reality, Wang Zhong was just entertaining the thought; what truly concerned him was the war situation.

Having had his fill of the view outside, Wang Zhong returned to the map.

From this map, the state of the entire Kazaria Kingdom was clear. As part of the Ante Empire, a third of it was now occupied by the Prosen people.

There were reports of telegrams still coming from Bogdanovka, emphasizing that the city was fighting and in need of relief.

But every junior officer understood that under such circumstances, relief was virtually impossible, and it was only a matter of time before the Bogdanovka forces were entirely wiped out by the enemy.

Based on the position and number of arrows representing the enemy on the map, Wang Zhong judged that Argesukov would be the enemy’s next objective in a pincer attack.

The enemy’s second armored group was fighting north of Argesukov, apparently not yet intending to surround and encircle the city.

But Wang Zhong, well-versed in history, had a nagging feeling that the armored offensive would soon turn southward and begin to encircle Argesukov.

The ‘Sturmtiger’ on Earth fought that way, and even though they achieved stunning victories, they delayed the push towards Moscow by a month, dragging it out until the arrival of ‘General Mud’.

The ‘Sturmtiger’ armored troops were mired in mud, barely managing to continue their advance.

As soon as General Mud left, General Winter arrived, and in the year of the ‘Sturmtiger’s offensive, tanks and planes didn’t have antifreeze lubricants—they were literally frozen to the ground.

At that time, to start a ‘Sturmtiger’ tank, one even had to light a fire first to melt the solidified oil in the engine.

Of course, in this world the terrain was different, and Prosen Empire was not the ‘Sturmtiger’; they might not follow the same course of action.

Just then, Ludmila said, “There’s Argesukov! Look over there!”

Wang Zhong, following her slender index finger, saw a line of smokestacks on the horizon, many churning out thick smoke.

Could Argesukov really be an industrial city?

Wait, why isn’t such an industrial city close to the frontline being rapidly deconstructed and the factories relocated further back?

By doing so, they could prevent the Prosen people from capturing Ante factories and, once relocated, the factories could resume operations and continue supporting the Ante Empire’s resistance.

Why aren’t they quickly evacuating the factories?

It looks like there’s yet another issue to complain about to the Crown Prince.

It’s just uncertain how much power the Crown Prince has over the war.

After all, the forces the Crown Prince managed to send before were the professional units accustomed to parades, hardly reflecting his influence over the military system.

“`

What kind of person is the Crown Prince?

Wang Zhong pondered, trying to dig out a sliver of memory about the Crown Prince from his mind—since this body belonged to the original owner, it made sense that some memories would linger, right?

Unfortunately, after quite an effort, he still couldn’t recall the slightest bit.

So Wang Zhong fabricated a lie, “To tell the truth, I don’t know if it was from being blasted by heavy artillery, or if my brain got fried during a fever, but I can’t seem to remember what the Crown Prince looks like.”

Ludmila: “It shows, you were about to ask whether he was a man or a woman.”

Wang Zhong could certainly detect the mocking tone in Ludmila’s words, but still cheekily asked, “So can you help me recall a bit?”

Ludmila shook her head: “You both entered the Reserve Infantry Officer School in the same year, and later studied together at the Suvorov Military Academy. You two were bottom of the class, one last and the other second to last.”

Is the Crown Prince that bad?

Now a distinguished general of the Ante Army, Wang Zhong thought somewhat arrogantly, even though his status as a well-known general was due to support from the Crown Prince, who acted as a “transportation commander.”

At that moment, Wang Zhong noticed more railway tracks appearing alongside the current ones, and soon the train flashed past a deserted small station.

Yegorov: “We’re reaching Veishorei, it’ll start slowing down soon.”

Wang Zhong: “You’re quite familiar with the railways near Argesukov!”

“Of course. I fought many battles here during the civil war. Back then there weren’t as many railroads converging here, but Veishorei had rail access at that time.”

“Forces of the Sanctified faction were holding Veishorei, constantly trying to launch attacks on Argesukov. We were lined up on either side of the railroad, even bringing armored trains for fire support,” Yegorov recounted with familiarity.

“Back then I was under the command of…”

Just then, the train’s whistle blew, signaling its imminent arrival at the station.

Pavlov also countered with his sonorous snores.

Wang Zhong watched the increasingly numerous houses outside the train window over the fields and suddenly remembered something.

He turned around to the table and picked up his portable small bag, from which he retrieved a letter stained red with blood.

Argesukov, 43 Krugen Street, Alexeyevna.

Wang Zhong hurriedly asked Yegorov, “Since you’ve fought around Argesukov for so long, you must know where Krugen Street is, right?”

Yegorov: “Yes, I do. What, are you really planning to deliver the letter yourself? Couldn’t the military postal system handle it?”

“No,” Wang Zhong declared firmly, “I want to personally deliver it and have a word with this old lady Alexeyevna, to tell her just how brave her son was.”

Yegorov: “But… he’s already dead…”

Wang Zhong stubbornly said, “No! I want to go.”

In fact, this was not only for the sake of those who had passed away, but also to strengthen Wang Zhong’s own resolve and bravery.

So that one day in the future, he could issue the command, “I don’t want casualty numbers, I only want victories,” without guilt.

Ludmila, looking at Wang Zhong’s side profile, suddenly laughed: “Alyosha, I never knew you had such a tender side, just like I never knew you were a speaker!”

Sufan: “So you didn’t know either?”

Ludmila: “Now I do! And I know which way he leans too…”

Wang Zhong: “Let’s not go into details on that!”

But Yegorov curiously asked, “General, which side do you ‘lean’? I prefer…”

“Let’s not talk about that either,” Wang Zhong adopted the bearing of a general, “Let’s talk about the letter!”

Yegorov: “43 Krugen Street, eh? I actually do know where it is. Once the troops are settled in, I’ll take you there on your signature white horse.”

Suddenly, Wang Zhong had an illusion that he heard a horse’s neigh, which should be impossible. Bucephalus was mixed in with pack horses and mules carrying supplies for the troops, staying in carriage number 11; its whinny could not possibly travel against the wind to reach here.

The train then began to slow down, and the surrounding countryside scenery swiftly diminished, soon morphing into a cityscape mingled with black and red.

Everywhere one could see garrisoned troops and the assembling Guardian Army.

Unless in formation, they all uniformly gazed towards the train.

Yegorov commented, “I bet they’re staring at the red flag on your tank. After all, the Ante Empire has never seen a red flag before.”

The train continued to decelerate, finally reduced to the pace of a human walking.

The locomotive’s whistle sounded again.

Suddenly, Pavlov exclaimed loudly, “I can’t take it anymore! Where’s my staff team?”

He then sat up and wide-eyed looked around at everyone in carriage number one.

Wang Zhong: “Don’t worry! We’ll definitely provide you with a full staff team this time!”

Pavlov was clearly still confused, his brain not quite kicking into gear yet. He looked at Wang Zhong, “Really? Then I want a ninth-grade civil servant! At least ninth-grade!”

Wang Zhong: “How about a sixth-grade one?”

He wasn’t familiar with the civil servant rankings and just counted up one level according to the sequence of three, six, nine.

Finally awake, Pavlov retorted, “Stop joking, General. A sixth-grade civil servant could serve as a school affairs committee member at a university! They’d have authority over professors!”

Really?

Right then, the platform outside abruptly came into view.

Next, the sound of martial music rose, playing “Farewell of the Slavic Woman,” clearly, a welcoming ceremony was prepared at the station for Rocossov’s combat group.

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