Arc of Fire

Chapter 732 -70 Red Flag Flying in Shepetovka

Wang Zhong gazed upon Shepetovka, truly observing the city from a bird’s-eye view.

His bird’s-eye view, of course, couldn’t cover a large city with a population of a million. Beyond the “illuminated” area, he could only see buildings in the night.

He quickly located the house he had lived in while in Shepetovka. It seemed that a certain senior officer from Prosen had also taken a liking to the house, as he could see a Prosen-style guard booth and sandbag bunkers at the entrance of the yard from the bird’s-eye view.

However, under the bird’s-eye view, the machine gun had been dismantled, and there were no bloodstains on the road ahead.

Two years ago, it was here that the Shepetovka textile workers handed the Red Flag over to Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong remembered that the dyer Bolutkin had struggled to achieve a “blood-like color” for the flag, which was then presented to him by Radilov.

It seemed in his memory there was also an old worker, the leader of all the workers.

He recalled the old worker’s face, feeling it didn’t resemble the elderly man who had just been sent off to rest.

At this point, footsteps approached. Wang Zhong couldn’t shift his point of view quickly enough, so he switched back to his own eyes, turning around to see Grigori returning with a cigarette in his mouth.

Wang Zhong asked, “Grisha, was that old man just now the one who gave us the Red Flag back then?”

"Not really. The one who brought the Red Flag seemed more charismatic, like an old general, with a square face and a general’s belly,” Grigori said. “You could tell he was the kind of person who could raise his arm in a factory and get an immediate resounding response from all the workers. Even the factory director and nobles had to give him some respect.”

Vasily asked, “Back then?”

"Yes, after the civil war ended places like the textile factory, integral to people’s livelihoods, were taken over by the Church.”

Wang Zhong thought back to the old man he had just seen; indeed, he seemed quite different from the commanding figure in his memories who had led the presentation of the flag.

He looked back toward the city under the night sky, murmuring softly, “I hope they are well.”

Grigori, puzzled, asked Vasily, “Who is the general referring to?”

"The people who gave the general the flag,” Vasily sighed and added, “But the best scenario is that they retreated with the withdrawing troops. The worst

At that moment, Nelly approached, “General, I have already arranged for that old gentleman. Please, take some rest as well. It’s still a long time until dawn.”

"I know, I know,” Wang Zhong murmured, still gazing at Shepetovka in the night.

The next morning, Wang Zhong climbed onto the freshly painted No. 422 Rokossovsky Type heavy breakthrough tank, looking back at the energetic troops lined up behind the tank.

Wang Zhong cried out, “Put on your medals! You are no ordinary troops; you are the cloaked troops, the Guard! Every one of you is a hero on the battlefield! You do not need medals to prove yourselves, but the citizens do!

"It’s been so long since they’ve suffered under the enemy’s iron heel; let them see their heroes’ sons returning!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the soldiers shouted in unison, “Hurrah!”

Wang Zhong said, “Not everything warants a hurrah!”

"Hurrah!”

Wang Zhong shook his head, climbed into the tank turret, put on his headset, and patted the top of the turret, shouting, “Forward!”

Then, from the driver’s side, came the familiar “duang” sound.

Over the past three years, Wang Zhong had commanded tanks ranging from T28 to BT7 then to T34W, until now the Rokossovsky Type—the “duang” sound of the wrench hitting the control rod had remained unchanged.

The tank engine roared, its massive body starting to move forward.

Not long after hitting the road, Wang Zhong saw crowds lined up to welcome him.

Girls holding flowers started throwing them as soon as they saw Wang Zhong’s tank, aiming straight for his face.

Wang Zhong exclaimed, “All right, girls! Save the flowers for the young lads behind!”

Just as he finished speaking, two young girls charged in front of the tank, tossing flowers into the driver’s hatch.

From the internal communication came the driver’s wail, “Not like this! Sukabule, the petals are sliding into my collar.”

Wang Zhong could only smile amid the shower of flowers, ignoring the petals hitting his face.

Behind the tank, the girls also launched their assaults on the soldiers; having thrown all the flowers, they began kissing the young soldiers.

Wang Zhong, observing through his bird’s-eye view, suddenly grew curious and asked the nearby crowd in a louder voice, “Girls, why is everyone wearing lipstick? Where would you get so much lipstick during the war?”

A few girls exchanged glances, then burst into laughter and replied, “We stormed into the homes of the mayors and high officials appointed by the Prosens and took all their lipstick! Everyone got some to apply!”

Wang Zhong declared, “I see. In that case, we need to record the names of those traitors serving the Prosens. They can run with the Prosens now, but once we’ve annihilated the Empire of Prosen, we’ll settle our scores with them!”

This statement immediately won cheers.

As No. 422 got closer to the city, more and more people gathered along the roadside to welcome them, and Wang Zhong suddenly understood what it meant to be “warmly welcomed wherever he went” and what was the “vibrant flourishing of all life.”

The desire of the people for victory after two years of suffering could no longer be restrained.

Children ran alongside tank number 422, asking as they ran, “General! My grandfather said that this winter you will reach Prosen!”

Wang Zhong replied, “Yes, this winter, we shall reach the border! Next year, we will enter the territory of the Empire of Prosen!”

As he finished speaking, everyone erupted, shouting, “Hurrah!”

When entering the city, tank number 422 had to slow down because the crowds had spilled onto the road, and any faster might have resulted in injuries.

It would be a hellish joke to die under the treads of one’s own tank upon such a victory.

Wang Zhong heard someone yell, “Look! The words written on the Red Flag! Shepetovka textile workers! Hurry and notify the factory guard!”

Wang Zhong shouted, “Let the factory guard head to the central square of the city!”

He was unsure if his words could be conveyed.

At that moment, someone carried out a radio, which broadcasted Olga—His Majesty the Tsar’s speech: “Compatriots! Today, General Rokossovsky leading the Kazarlia First Front Army, has recaptured Shepetovka!

"This signifies our restoration—our liberation of the first city with a population of a million! The once invincible Pulosen army has crumbled!

"Let us sing to celebrate this great victory!”

Then, the melody of The Holy War emanated from the radio.

People lining the route ceased their cheers, joining the radio in singing the well-known song.

As tank number 422 entered Shepetovka’s central square amidst singing, Wang Zhong immediately recognized the crowd dressed in uniform workwear, sporting red armbands on their sleeves.

From a distance, he thought these were all young workers, or at least middle-aged, but a closer look revealed, aside from a few middle-aged men, these were all elderly people over 50 whose hair had begun to gray.

Wang Zhong immediately understood why it was so and barely managed to hold back his tears.

General Rokossovsky could not weep in front of everyone: the star of victory does not cry.

Tank number 422 drove right up to the group of workers, and without Wang Zhong’s order, the driver abruptly braked.

Wang Zhong wanted to use an external device to check everyone’s names, but that would take too much time. Thus, he directly asked a middle-aged man who climbed onto the tank, “Davarish, when I left Shepetovka, worker Radilov handed me this flag, dyed by the exceptional dyer Bolutkin.

"I haven’t seen them. And the old man who was leading the workers back then hasn’t appeared either. Did they retreat with the troops?”

Worker Davarish shook his head, “No, they were ordered to stay and organize underground resistance, and all were sacrificed last year.”

Wang Zhong asked, “Where are they buried?”

"The Prosens used to hang the bodies of captured guerrillas and underground members for public display right there,” the representative pointed toward the east of the square, “We tried to retrieve the bodies for burial but failed. When the Prosens retreated, they burned all the bodies and the gallows; we have collected the remains, now kept in the ruins of the Church.”

Wang Zhong took a deep breath, “I want to take a look, carrying this flag. Grisha, take down the flag! Be careful!”

At that moment, still on the command vehicle outside the city, Ludmila turned off the radio.

The conversation between Rokossovsky and the worker’s representative had just come through the radio—probably the general got too emotional and forgot to turn off the transmission.

Ludmila covered her mouth, beginning to cry.

An old worker sighed while sitting in the command vehicle, “Madam, why are you crying?”

Ludmila replied, “Because Alyosha cannot cry in these circumstances, so I thought, maybe I could shed tears for him.”

Old worker turned to Nelly, “Dear, try and comfort the lady! Her makeup is all ruined, such beautiful makeup too.”

Nelly simply offered a handkerchief.

Old man sighed, “This

Nelly apologized, “Sorry, my eyes were injured, my tear glands are damaged, so I’ll have to ask Madame to weep on my behalf.”

The old man then looked at the maid and back at Ludmila, sighing deeply.

Wang Zhong gently touched the charred remains in front of him, asking the priest who entered the city earlier, “Is it impossible to separate the bones?”

"They are inseparable now, General. After the organics burn out, it’s hard to distinguish human bones from wood.”

Wang Zhong considered for a moment, then said, “Conduct a ceremony to properly soothe the spirits, and once everything is settled, send me a small portion that this box can hold.”

As he spoke, he patted the small box at his waist that once held black soil.

The Priest nodded, “Understood. We will handle it well.”

Wang Zhong looked at the others who had come with him: “The heroes have departed, yet millions of heroes have risen anew! You were not frightened by the brutality of the Prosens! This heroic city was not intimidated either!

"In this war, it was you who won! You drove away the wicked invaders! I, on behalf of all the soldiers of the Kazarlian Army, salute you!”

With that, Wang Zhong stood at attention, raising his right hand solemnly, saluting to the workers, to all the citizens of Shepetovka.

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