Arc of Fire

October 27th, 0100 hours, at Beachhead One.

Nelly and two battlefield nurses were sleeping in the trench when they were suddenly awakened by footsteps.

Her first reaction was to check for enemies, but it turned out to be the voice of the old sergeant, Malov, "Don’t panic, the platoon leader sent me with a few soldiers to catch some prisoners. With this weather and at this time, it’s perfect. Zaitsev! Haven’t you always wanted to try prisoner-snatching? The chance has come!"

Zaitsev appeared, brimming with energy, "Great! Does this mean I can get a medal if I catch one?"

"During the civil war, yes. But for now, think about how you’ll stay alive to receive it. Let’s go."

Saying this, Malov crawled out of the trench, moving briskly and stooped, belying his age.

Zaitsev quickly followed, asking as they walked, "Is it just the two of us? Shouldn’t we bring more people?"

"More people make it easier to be detected. Plus, if we alarm the enemy, it’s easier for us two to slip back. Shut up and just follow me."

Nelly lay at the edge of the trench, watching them disappear into the night.

Nelly replied, "Nothing much, they went across to grab some prisoners. Did I wake you up?"

"No, I just had a nightmare." The nurse bowed her head and wiped away her tears, "I thought what I saw in the hospital was the nightmare I’d live with, but today..."

Nelly interjected, "The enemy’s offensive wasn’t intense today. If you’re having nightmares today, you’ll never find peace."

The nurse looked towards Nelly, "You’re quite the comforter."

"I’m just telling you the facts. Even if we leave this beachhead alive, none of us are going to sleep peacefully again," Nelly stated calmly.

"Have you been through this before?"

"At Orachi, my first time on the battlefield," Nelly lifted her head to look at the rainy night sky, "The kind uncle who packed extra meat for me yesterday lay in a pool of blood today, his intestines spilling out. And the kind old lady lying in the street, next to her grandchild who hadn’t yet been weaned off her— I’ve seen enough of these scenes."

The nurse continued to wipe her tears, "Why do humans do these things? Why?"

"After we conquer the Prosens, you can ask those who waged this war," Nelly replied.

"That’s what I want to ask," the nurse nodded, "I need to ask!"

She changed the subject, "Miss Nelly, don’t you have nightmares?"

"I do, so during that time I suffered from insomnia every night and had to force myself to keep busy and drink coffee to stay alert. The general thought I was always awake when he woke because I’m a well-trained maid.

"The general, however, sleeps soundly every night despite having seen even more gruesome sights. He never has nightmares and falls asleep instantly. It seems his whole family is like that."

Nelly paused, looking at the nurse as if waiting for her to ask more.

But the nurse merely exclaimed, "The general is amazing, so that’s why he’s a general."

Nelly nodded, "Yes, he’s the general."

The nurse commented, "All these deaths are just numbers to him, aren’t they?"

Nelly replied, "I don’t know; I’ve never asked him about his thoughts. Maybe his wife knows—no, his wife definitely knows, but she isn’t here."

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Wang Zhong yawned and stood up, "I’m going to rest."

Pavlov said, "Hope you sleep well."

Wang Zhong replied, "I’m sure I will. I don’t even know if I still have a conscience, sending so many to their death yet still able to sleep without any burden, and not even dreaming."

"It’s probably genetic; some people just can sleep without any burden," Popov got up and said, "I’m on night duty. Pavlov, you should go rest too. If both of you are down, then it’s just me left commanding the forces as a bishop here, and we’d certainly be done for."

Pavlov thought for a moment and nodded, "Alright, I’ll also rest. Actually, I’ve been unable to sleep recently. Every time I close my eyes, I see march plans, troop placements, supply arrangements… I’ve even seen a doctor about it, the one Yegorov is fond of, you know? The female doctor Yegorov found..."

Yegorov’s family had all died, so he and a female doctor supported and warmed each other, a fact known by everyone who had fled from Upper Penie.

Wang Zhong asked, "How is the female doctor? I mean, in medicine."

Pavlov replied, "I haven’t tried her medicine yet, I’ll see tonight. Hoping the report formats are correct this time so I don’t get too annoyed. Let’s go."

Popov said, "Take care, gentlemen of the night shift, now it’s our turn to hold the fort. Let’s hope the Prosens don’t suddenly acquire the ability for night attacks."

Wang Zhong and Pavlov then walked shoulder to shoulder toward the door, as Yakov and Pavlov’s deputy officer approached, offering their coats and military caps to the two men.

Outside, a light drizzle continued to float down, and since the Prosen people were not accustomed to night bombings, the hospital across was brightly lit, and faint screams from the ongoing surgeries could be heard.

Wang Zhong: "Why are they screaming so terribly? Are we running out of anesthetics?"

"Well, on our side, we have an abundance of morphine that we can’t use up, supplied like it’s free by the Allied Nations, but the proper surgical anesthetics... mainly, it’s because we need to perform too many surgeries. You should see the doctors; they’re all as tired as moving corpses."

Due to the lack of education in Ante, there is a severe shortage of doctors, to the extent that all doctors are almost forced to convert to trauma surgeons.

It is said that even pediatricians are now treating gunshot wounds on the front lines, and the mortality rate among children in remote areas has greatly increased.

Wang Zhong: "By this time next year, the situation will have drastically turned around."

"I thought you would say, by this time next year, we would have liberated Argesukov."

Wang Zhong chuckled softly, "You have to eat your rice one mouthful at a time, my dear Pavlov Davarish."

At that moment, a small piece of ice crystal stuck to Wang Zhong’s forehead.

Confused, he raised his hand and touched it, but he only felt the melting water of the ice crystal.

Just when he thought it was an illusion, a second piece landed on his forehead.

Pavlov felt it too.

They were less than five meters away from their "dorm," but they stopped together and looked up at the sky.

The fine rain was mixed with ice crystals, and a cold wind howled down the Valdai Hills River.

Wang Zhong: "What is this? Has the cold air arrived so soon? Didn’t the weather forecast say it’s still ten days away?"

Pavlov: "Maybe General Winter saw our dire situation and couldn’t help himself?"

At this time, Yakov with his notebook said, "I’ve seen local climate records before; on average, every ten years, winter comes a bit earlier, ending the mud season by the end of October. So maybe this isn’t an abnormal climate?"

Wang Zhong, mouth agape, looked at the sky, "Damn! Trouble, the early end of the muddiness means Prosen’s supplies will be restored!"

"Congratulations, General," the Chief of Staff of the Prosen Sixth Army Group said to General Frederick, "the mud season has ended early, and we can move again. This mud period, lasting less than a week, is a gift from heaven!"

General Frederick rebuked, "Is this a time to be happy? With the mud season ending early, the enemy’s transport will also improve, and their tanks scattered behind us will be more convenient and quicker to maneuver! (Actually, the tank units responsible for the raids were already wiped out, but Frederick’s headquarters had yet to obtain this intelligence)"

After the rebuke, Frederick shifted to a more gentle tone, "Ensure the smoothness of supplies, eliminate the impacts caused by the Anteans, and quickly resume the offensive. We have at most one to two weeks until the weather gets so cold nobody can move! We need to capture Abawahan urgently.

"To ensure this, the 41st Armored Army should eliminate the Antean beachhead within a few days!"

The staff officers who had just gathered to celebrate with the General hastily dispersed to resume their duties.

The General then relieved himself, undoing his tunic’s disciplinary button, and gestured to the Deputy Officer, "Get me something to drink."

"Vodka okay?"

"No, no alcohol; I need to stay alert—get me some coffee," General Frederick said in an even more placated tone than before, "We need to ensure the input of follow-up troops, due to Rocossov’s action, I estimate we need at least two more armies to take Abawahan."

Chief of Staff: "Isn’t that being too cautious?"

"It’s better to be cautious, to prevent those people at the Army Group Command, sitting safely over a hundred kilometers away, from talking nonsense." After brief consideration, General Frederick amended, "Make it three armies in the telegram, we need the extra three armies to conquer Abawahan."

The Chief of Staff nodded, "Alright, I will draft the telegram right away."

After speaking, he left.

Frederick looked at the map on the wall as if appreciating a piece of art, with a whole large section added on the right side showing all the "fruits of victory" of the Sixth Army Group.

Of course, Frederick knew, between himself and Group A, there was a large barren grassland, and both sides had only limited maneuver forces responsible for vigilance in this area.

The troops on Prosen’s side keeping watch here belonged to the 16th Armored Grenadiers of Group B, known as the Greyhound Division after its emblem of a greyhound.

This was an obscure unit, but its reliable fighting strength was highly regarded by Maximilian von Geron, the Marshal of Group B Command.

Frederick looking at the map, remembering the appearance of the Greyhound Division Commander, just when the Deputy Officer came in with a tray holding the coffee.

General Frederick took the coffee cup, took a sip, and his brows immediately furrowed, "Damn it, this coffee is too refined; no finely ground coffee beans, use the instant coffee we’re issued!"

Deputy Officer in shock: "But that tastes like mud!"

"Exactly, that’s how it should be!" General Frederick asserted.

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