Arc of Fire

Chapter 677: Chapter 15 Old Friends Raise Their Glasses

Orel sector, Kazarlia Front Army position.

Admiral Eugene dismounted from the Willys Jeep and strode towards the bunker under construction.

The Colonel, who had been waiting at the entrance to the bunker, approached: “Admiral, the bunker has already

Admiral Eugene raised his right hand to stop the Colonel: “I’ll take a look for myself. Although I’m a miner and my main job is drilling, I also know a bit about concrete. After all, we had to reinforce some non-expanding mines with concrete underground from time to time.”

He walked past the Colonel, casually patting him on the shoulder.

The Admiral arrived in front of the bunker and carefully examined it for a few seconds, then gestured with his hand: “Pile the dirt a bit higher on the front, a thick enough layer of earth in front of the concrete will greatly improve its defensive capabilities.”

"Yes, Admiral,” the Colonel immediately turned and made a gesture to his aide-de-camp, “You heard the Admiral’s orders, get moving!”

Admiral Eugene circled around the bunker and nodded: “Good, the construction technique is very experienced. Was the person in charge working in a related field before the war erupted?”

Eugene: “Oh? Then how did you become a Colonel?”

"Crash course. I was made a major after finishing, and last year during General Gorky’s offensive, all the officers ranking above me were sacrificed. That’s how I became a Colonel.”

Eugene patted the Colonel’s shoulder again: “I’m even less qualified; I didn’t even go through a crash course. I just crammed a bunch of basic knowledge during a rest period at night school, and now I’m already an Admiral.”

Colonel: “But you’re different, you’ve been through so many fierce battles, following Rocossov all the way from Orachi.”

Admiral Eugene: “Don’t speak with such envy. I didn’t know what I would face at the time. I just joined the army with passion, and got the rank of Lieutenant Colonel because of my position in the mine. But I was quite proud of myself. I went home in uniform to show my wife, delightfully displaying the insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel.”

Eugene stopped, looking into the distance—not so much at the horizon as at his former self from the distant past.

Eugene: “At that time, none of us were prepared for this brutal war. Everyone thought that we would quickly drive the Prosens out of our homeland and then rush into their land. Everyone believed it was going to be an exceedingly easy war, even the parish priests thought the same. Now, of all my good friends who enlisted with me, only I am still alive. My wife managed to retreat to the rear, but many neighbors didn’t manage to evacuate in time, remaining in the enemy-occupied zone; I don’t know how they are now.”

Colonel: “We’ll take it back this year, everyone says so.”

Eugene: “Let’s hope so. In fact, my hometown is very close now. Walk a hundred kilometers in that direction, and you’ll reach the coal mine where I was the mine manager. I was also the manager of the neighboring iron mine. I know both mines well; going down the mine felt like taking a stroll in my own garden.”

The Admiral pointed in the direction where the enemy was entrenched.

Colonel: “Then maybe you’ll get to go home before this campaign is over.”

Eugene smiled: “I hope so.”

Then he changed the subject, gesturing towards the communication trench next to the bunker: “The depth of the communication trench is not enough. Dig down another 15 centimeters.”

Colonel: “We dug according to the latest construction manual.”

Eugene firmly said: “Dig down another 15 centimeters. You’ll thank me when the fighting starts.”

Colonel nodded: “Okay, we’ll start right away.”

As the Colonel gave the orders, Admiral Eugene climbed to the highest point beside the trench, hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the distance, his thoughts unknown.

The Gold Star Medal on his chest shone brightly against the morning sun.

Kazarlia First Front Army Headquarters.

"Report!”

Pavlov turned to the person who spoke: “Oh, you guys are here. I still can’t match your names to your faces, since the new ID cards don’t have photos. Introduce yourselves, please.”

"Yes.” The foremost Major General answered loudly, “I’ll start. I am the second Division Commander of the Guard First Red Flag Mechanized Infantry Division, Nikolai Petrovich Kamenning.”

"Hmm, seems more reliable than Yegorov. Did you know I was his Chief of Staff?” Pavlov said, “Later, I went to the General’s Headquarters as Chief of Staff, and because of my performance, I continued to be promoted with the General, while Yegorov is still on the front line

Popov: “Actually, he was injured and went to the rear for half a year of recovery; otherwise, he might not have been promoted slower than you.”

Pavlov: “That’s right. This damn war, as long as you survive, you get promoted quickly… I wish I didn’t climb the ranks so fast.”

Becoming promoted quickly meant that senior officers were suffering heavy casualties, which was not a good sign.

Pavlov pointed at the second Major General and asked, “And you?”

"Yes, I am the new division commander of the Guards Eighth Mechanized Infantry Division, Vasily Aleksandrovich Levanievsky.”

After completing the defensive mission in Abawahan, the 225th Division withdrew and was awarded the title of Guards, becoming the Guards Eighth Mechanized Infantry Division.

Pavlov asked, “How did you get the Venus Medal?”

"I earned it during the defense against the Prosen at Galikov, where I destroyed six Prosen tanks by myself,” said Major General Levanievsky, his head held high and his tone full of pride.

"Very good,” Popov clapped his hands, “We need tank-hunting experts.”

Levanievsky looked at Popov, “Military Bishop Davarish, my soldiers asked me to inquire why our division doesn’t have a nickname? Look, we are all mechanized infantry divisions and direct troops of Rocossov. The Guard First Mechanized has the ‘Red Flag’ title, so we should have one too, right?”

Popov replied, “The previous commander of your division, Admiral Eugene, was very good at earthworks. How about your nickname being ‘Mole’?”

Levanievsky looked troubled.

Pavlov spoke, “Don’t feel insulted by being good at fortifications; it’s an important skill!

"Admiral Eugene is now commanding the 63rd Infantry Army Group and is busy building fortifications. When the enemy starts their attack, his troops will be the first to bear the brunt. I believe he will give the Prosens a tough time.

"If he knew you were frowning over the issue of a nickname, he would come over and knock on your head! I think ‘Mole’ is quite good.”

But Popov changed his mind, “We should also consider the soldiers’ feelings. Well then, Comrade Vasily Aleksandrovich, go back and hold a soldiers’ meeting, discuss what name you want, vote for one that everyone accepts, and submit it through your military bishop.”

"Yes.”

At that time, the third Major General said, “Then should our division also get a cool name?”

Pavlov said, “Although we’ve already figured out who you are through the process of elimination, please introduce yourself.”

"Yes! Commander of the Guard First Melian Division of the Melania People’s Army, Yane Yemiyevich Vishliyevitsky.”

Pavlov said, “I am very sorry about your predecessor.”

In the cruel battles of Abawahan, the commander of the Melian First Division did not make it.

Vishliyevitsky said, “He, along with countless compatriots, now rests in foreign soil. Ever since Melania fell, there have already been countless compatriots resting in foreign lands. But as long as our homeland is restored, they will have no regrets, General.”

Pavlov nodded.

Popov said, “The Melania forces have proven themselves. Rocossov personally said that the Melania forces have become one of the most reliable.”

"Thank you very much!” Yane Yemiyevich Vishliyevitsky stood tall and proud, his face beaming with pride.

Pavlov said, “We’re now acquainted with all three of you. What about Yegorov? As the commander of the Army Group, he sends you three over here. Where is he hiding?”

"I am right here!” A resonant voice came from the entrance, and Yegorov walked in with a firm step, carrying a basket of buns. “Ever since the division commander’s farewell dinner, I have been remembering Ceres’s culinary skills! So, I went to the kitchen first, but the cook followed the division commander to Yeburg! Only the cook’s young apprentice was bustling about in the mess hall!”

With that, Yegorov stuffed another bun into his mouth: “Fortunately, the craftsmanship is still good, quite tasty.”

"Humph.” Pavlov stood up, walked over to Yegorov, and extended his hand, “Long time no see.”

"Long time no see,” Yegorov shook Pavlov’s hand, “Don’t be too proud. I’ll be Admiral myself soon, after this battle! You’re staff and it’s hard for staff to become General, but I’m different. Once the war’s over, I might even become Marshal!”

Popov also came over, “Starting to worry about promotions means you’ve recovered from the grief of losing your wife.”

Yegorov’s expression froze, but quickly relaxed, “One can’t always live in the past. Besides, I’ve killed so many Prosen devils, that’s revenge for my wife and child. What’s left is to march into Plowsonia. We can’t rush that. The division commander said to take it slow and we’ll eventually get there. I’ll listen to the division commander!”

Popov patted Yegorov’s shoulder lightly, “Good, that’s better! But you should also be kinder to the doctor.”

"Don’t worry,” Yegorov’s expression visibly softened, “After the war is over, I’ll have plenty of time to be good to her.”

Pavlov empathically replied, “When the war is over, we should treat them well. It’s fine for me, I have always been at headquarters, but for you who have been at the front all the time, you might need time to adjust to peaceful life.”

Popov said, “By then, there will be plenty of time to adjust, don’t worry! Come, it’s rare for us to gather here when there’s no war waging. Orderly! Bring the wine!”

The orderly quickly brought the wine, mock-complaining about Popov, “Is it really okay for a military bishop to lead in drinking? The soldiers will follow suit!”

Popov responded, “Do you think if I don’t drink, they won’t? What troubles the military chaplains the most is sneaking drinks! But never mind that, cheers!”

Yegorov raised his glass high, “Aren’t we saying a toast? I’ll do it, to defeating the Prosen devils soon! Cheers!”

"For victory, cheers!” Pavlov added.

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