Arc of Fire

Chapter 655: Chapter 97 Drinking Horse by the White Sea

January 14, 916, by the White Coast.

Kiriyenko rode his horse across the highway, passing by a recently captured supply convoy.

"General, would you like a Prosen cigarette?” a soldier distributing supplies called out loudly.

Kiriyenko smiled, “You all share it; I’m not used to their cigarettes. The ones I roll myself are stronger!”

After saying this, he took out a cigarette rolled with newspaper from his pocket, placed it in his mouth, and continued to ride forward.

His Deputy Officer shouted to the soldiers, “Don’t just focus on grabbing cigarettes, alcohol, and food, distribute the ammunition as well; we still have to continue fighting deep into enemy territory.”

"Got it!”

Kiriyenko’s Cavalry Troops had been “Prosenized,” wielding Prosen submachine guns and grenades, all for the sake of logistical convenience.

As for food, the local villagers had offered everything they had, even sparing all their stored fodder to the troops. Seeing their cattle and sheep wouldn’t survive the winter, they decided to slaughter them to reward the troops.

With the support of the villagers and the “supply” from the enemy, Kiriyenko’s troops infiltrated for seven days, growing “fatter” as they fought.

After crossing the highway, Kiriyenko climbed a small hill beside it, and his view suddenly broadened.

The glittering White Sea stretched from beneath his eyes to the horizon.

Kiriyenko exclaimed, “The White Sea! I never thought I’d be so thrilled to see it one day.”

The Deputy Officer agreed, “Yes, before the war, I had the chance to vacation by the White Sea, but I chose to go to a mountain villa instead.”

Kiriyenko laughed, “Same here, I chose to go fishing for Baikal salmon.”

After speaking, the two fell silent, gazing together at the White Sea.

Kiriyenko’s horse seemed bored, constantly shifting its hooves left and right.

Just then, a messenger rode up the hill, saluted, and reported, “General, the Fifth Guards Cavalry has captured an artillery battery, including 21 cm heavy artillery. They are asking for instructions.”

Kiriyenko responded, “We can’t take the heavy artillery with us. Tell them to stuff the gun barrels with explosives and destroy everything. Detonate the ammunition as well, try to make a big firework, preferably one that the nearby Prosens can see!”

"Yes, sir.” The messenger saluted again, turned his horse, and galloped down the hill.

Kiriyenko watched the messenger descend and then looked again towards the White Sea. “A week ago, I thought Rocosov’s tactic of infiltration was inappropriate. Now, it seems my view was absurdly wrong. The difference between Rocosov and me is that I didn’t anticipate the tremendous support the villagers would give us.

"Even though the local Church had been almost destroyed by Prosen Constitutional Guards and the Imperial Ministry, and most parish priests were hanged, some still dangling from the trees at the village entrance,

"Yet, they supported us unconditionally, risking execution by the Prosen Constitutional Guards.

"Rocosov had predicted this! He told me and Kashuk once that in Loktov, he had been in grave danger, and the local militia made a great sacrifice to rescue him. He said there was immense power within the villagers!

"At the time, I didn’t pay attention. Now, I finally understand—he was right!”

Kiriyenko paused, took a deep breath, looked at the White Sea, and repeated, “He was right.”

As his words faded, more hoofbeats approached from behind. Kiriyenko turned and saw several cavalrymen in Melianian People’s Army uniforms riding towards the high ground.

The leading Major General saluted Kiriyenko, “First Division of the Melianian People’s Army Cavalry, reporting for duty.”

Kiriyenko returned the salute, “Did you encounter any problems on the way? Didn’t the locals, unfamiliar with your uniforms, mistake you for a servile army of the Prosens?”

The Major General, speaking broken Antenese, replied, “They hadn’t seen our flags, but seeing the Red Flag, they thought Rocosov was coming.”

Kiriyenko looked up, gazed at the Melianian’s “Great White Goose” flag on a red field, and burst into hearty laughter.

The Melianian Major General looked towards the White Sea, “Is your homeland Kazarlia?”

Kiriyenko shook his head, “No, I am a fellow countryman of Grand Patriarch Belinsky, fond of Chanaky stew.

"However, I once lived in Ronied for a while, and from my dorm window, I could see the White Sea. Outside my dorm was a flagpole; a flag was raised every day wishing venturing ships smooth sailing.”

The Melianian sighed, “How wonderful that you are back by the White Sea. My homeland is in Pomerania, and I grew up watching the waves of the Baltic Sea.

"My route from school passed by the seaside where I loved to take off my shoes, walk in the shallow waters, and catch some hermit crabs occasionally.”

Kiriyenko looked at the Melianian, “You will return to your homeland, you will! We shall fight alongside you, from the Suhayaweili River to the sea, Melania will eventually be free!”

"May your words come true! Did Rocosov and Davarish also say this?”

"Yes, I stole it from him,” Kiriyenko smiled. “The General plays the fool, pretending to be a frivolous dandy, but he is actually eloquent and often speaks memorable words.”

"General Rocosov, perhaps the greatest military strategist of our time?” mused a Melianian. “We’re lucky to have him on our side.”

Scarcely had he finished speaking when Kiriyenko waved his hand dismissively, “If you were to say that in front of Rocosov, he would tell you that his current situation isn’t his own doing, claiming that history has chosen him.”

"History chose him, did it? What a humble man the general is,” remarked the Melianian.

As the words settled, silence suddenly descended.

Only the constant echoing of the waves from the White Sea seemed to reflect the restless throbbing in everyone’s chests.

On January 15th, General Sheeplin scrutinized the wreckage of the 21 cm heavy artillery that had just been towed back by a trailer.

"So, Rocosov’s cavalry has reached the White Sea shores? Damn, where did they get the stamina to keep fighting?” Sheeplin demanded.

Chief of Staff said, “Apparently, the local people provided them with stored forage and winter food, and the Constitutional Guards are trying to punish the locals supporting them, but without much success, and they’ve suffered heavy losses due to cavalry attacks.”

"Locals! Are you telling me locals had enough forage and food to supply more than a hundred thousand cavalry, even after we had already requisitioned supplies?” Sheeplin challenged.

"Yes, it seems the locals had quite a bit hidden away.”

"Damn it, I knew these people couldn’t be trusted! We should have the Imperial Ministry and the Constitutional Guards arrest them all and hang them!”

After a brief pause, Sheeplin sighed, “But talking about this now is useless, they’ll soon be ‘liberated.’ How’s the counterattack going?”

Chief of Staff replied, “We couldn’t retake Prinka, but we were successful in some of the villages lost yesterday.

"We reclaimed fifty-five percent of the positions we lost yesterday.”

"That’s very good, excellent. Keep sawing back and forth with Rocosov’s forces, buy us time for the retreat.”

Just then, a motorcycle approached, and the Captain aboard it jumped off before it had fully stopped, quickly stepping up to the Chief of Staff to whisper a few words.

"What’s happening?” Sheeplin asked.

Chief of Staff replied, “Yakolevo fell, Achteka has reported sighting Ante army.”

Sheeplin pursed his lips, pausing briefly before saying, “It seems like the territory we recaptured in the counterattack doesn’t even compare to the new positions we lost today. How many troops does Rocosov have, anyway? His forces seem to be everywhere.”

"We have formed a semicircle facing the front of the Eleventh Army Group,” Pavlov stated while drawing a circle on the map with a map stick. “This is a scaled-down version of the offensive launched by General Gorky last October. We will initiate attacks all along this arc, and wherever there is a breakthrough, we will throw in subsequent echelons.”

Wang Zhong lamented, “It’s a shame the front isn’t long enough, the enemy’s density is still too high.”

Pavlov replied, “The attack on Prinka has proven that the combat effectiveness of the Eleventh Army Group hasn’t recovered. Judging by the composition of the prisoners, they have many new recruits, and the combat vets lost over the past six months have not been replaced.

"If we delayed our attack and waited for their wounded vets to return, the situation could get complicated.

"Also, by launching a full-frontal assault, we can effectively target the enemy’s counterattacks. They regained quite a bit of ground yesterday, but today… today we’ll attack across the entire arc, and no matter in which direction the enemy counterattacks, they can only regain ground from one lost direction.”

Wang Zhong was pleased, “Very good. How long do you think it will take to capture Bolsk?”

After mentally calculating, Pavlov answered, “I originally thought it might take ten to fifteen days, but given the fight put up by the Eleventh Army Group, seven days should suffice.

"They lack manpower and equipment, the prior combat experience that used to be their advantage isn’t overwhelmingly superior anymore, and their fortifications aren’t as strong as we expected. Probably they never thought we’d counterattack so soon.”

Vasily immediately agreed, “Yes, I took a look at Prinka, all the permanent reinforced concrete fortifications there were built during the time Duke Meishikin defended this place. Our attack forces got detailed blueprints and knew exactly where they were.

"The new permanent fortifications are essentially non-existent, the semi-permanent ones are makeshift at best, and most fortifications are just sandbags that absolutely can’t withstand a sidelong B4 bombardment.”

Popov snorted, “A sandbag fortification surviving a B4 barrage would be absurd.”

Vasily just shrugged.

At that moment, Ludmila rolled a cart into the headquarters, “Everyone, it’s time for supper!”

Wang Zhong looked at her, “Didn’t you just have a day’s shift near the Divine Arrow?”

"It’s quite relaxing on duty,” Ludmila said with a smile. “And the supper isn’t even prepared by me, but by your Ceres’s chef. He’s really amazing, able to make such a plentiful meal with so simple ingredients!”

"What kind of supper is it?” asked Wang Zhong.

"A sweet lotus seed soup, I think it could replenish the sugar lost from our mental exertion,” explained Ludmila, opening the pot.

Wang Zhong laughed upon seeing it, “What lotus seed soup? This is Ceres’s common sugary treat: Qingbu Liang.”

"Give me a bowl, let me see how this odd-looking ‘lotus seed soup’ tastes!” he exclaimed.

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