Arc of Fire

Chapter 617: Chapter 60 In the Blizzard

The 532nd troop transport train was trapped in the heavy snow.

Train conductor Nikolai had no choice but to order the soldiers on board to get off and clear the snow to make way.

However, the soldiers only had sapper shovels and no specialized snow-clearing equipment, so progress was extremely slow, and the train could only move forward at the pace of a walking human.

Nikolai was so anxious that he went to shovel snow himself, but the snowfall was too heavy. No sooner had he cleared a small area than a few centimeters of fresh snow fell upon it.

As the train was on the verge of being buried by the snow, a soldier trudged through the snow to report, “Train conductor, people are coming from behind, a lot of people!”

"What? Have the Prosens crossed the river to attack us?” Nikolai asked with a tense face.

"No, look!” The messenger turned around, pointing behind them.

Nikolai looked and indeed saw a large group of people approaching through the snowstorm, holding flags.

Those people quickly arrived, and Nikolai could see clearly that they were not carrying weapons but various snow-clearing tools.

"Who are you?” Nikolai asked loudly.

"Comrade train conductor, we are students from nearby schools, organized by the Church to clear the snow!” the leading young man shouted.

Nikolai nodded, then looked at the flags they were carrying, “Why are you carrying Red Flags?”

"Because we heard that now the bravest fighting units are awarded Red Flags, and while we are too young to go to the battlefield, we can win Red Flags first! We dyed them ourselves!” the young man shouted fearlessly through the blizzard.

Nikolai looked at the young faces and then at the Red Flags, shaking his head, “You should go back, this storm is very dangerous!”

"And could that be more dangerous than the battlefield?”

A soldier clearing snow beside them laughed, “That’s true indeed, Train Conductor Davarish, let them work. It’ll get us to the rally point sooner.”

Nikolai took a deep breath, and by the time he exhaled, he had made up his mind. He waved grandly: “Onward, kids!”

The leading boy turned back, “Onward! Dig out the train!”

All the boys—no, the girls too—rushed towards the train, tools in hand.

Nikolai watched them for a few seconds, then started walking down the railway towards the end of the train, seeing many Red Flags along the way, with words written on them:

"Youth Assault Team of the Tenth Middle School.”

"Youth Vanguard of Badayev Village.”

"Youth Rescue Team of Karinka.”

…

Suddenly, someone began to lead, and the young people started singing loudly, “Listen to the blizzard’s roar, see the shooting stars fly~”

"My heart calls to me, to the turbulent distance~”

At the same time, the 420th Motor Regiment of Prosen.

Major Hansen almost didn’t hear someone knocking on the door of his vehicle. He opened the door of the command car and saw someone almost turned into a snowman outside. He struggled to recognize through the rank that it was the battalion commander.

"We can’t move!” the battalion commander shouted, “We’re completely stuck! And if it keeps snowing like this, there’s a risk of us being buried! We should find shelter nearby!”

Major Hansen looked up at the sky, sighed, and said, “Moving through the snow is dangerous at this time. Just wait in the trucks for the storm to pass. Use the radio to inquire at the military depot, see if anyone can come to the rescue.”

No sooner had he spoken than the radio operator in the command car said, “It’s no good, the radio won’t reach anyone. It might be frozen or the ionosphere is in chaos due to the blizzard. Anyway, we can’t reach anyone.”

Major Hansen cursed, “Don’t you know what to do? Keep calling! Until you get through to someone!”

At the Prosen Sixth Army Group Corps Command.

General Frederick looked at the creaking window, which was already fogged up, completely obscuring the view outside. Still, through the creaking noise, he could feel the chill of the north wind outside.

"General Winter,” the general scoffed, “just had to show up now, quite the timing.”

His Chief of Staff was on the phone, and just at that moment finished talking and looked over, “General, the transport column that set off this morning still hasn’t reached the next station. Our entire transport line is paralyzed. This is more lethal than getting stuck in mud.

"However, the good news is that the enemy—the Anteans—are no better off in such a blizzard, as the railways must also stop.”

The general was silent, staring at the white fogged window, lost in thought.

The Chief of Staff waited a while before asking, “General?”

"Ah? Oh, yes, that’s the only good news. They must have more troops than us, and running out of supplies will make it harder for them.”

In Badayev Village on the East Bank.

The Marekhov family’s door was violently knocked open. Old Marekhov grumbled as he opened the door, “What’s the matter? Can’t you rest in this kind of weather? Huh? Parish Priest, what’s wrong?”

The Priest spoke seriously, “The railway line has been blocked by the blizzard, Mr. Marekhov. You have experience with transportation in the snow. We need to organize a supply team, could you

Marekhov looked at the sky, “Transporting in this weather, many people will die, Reverend.”

"We priests will also join the transportation.”

Mr. Mayerkhov sighed, “Then what else should I say? Old woman! Bring me my coat!”

"Coat? What are you going to do? Going out in this weather, do you have a death wish?” The old man’s wife grumbled as she came out. Upon seeing the parish priest, her demeanor changed immediately, “Oh, your reverence, please come in and sit down.”

The parish priest shook his head, “No, the boys on the front line are waiting for their meal. We need to deliver meat and grain to them. Your three sons might also be waiting on the front line for food.”

"So it is! Let our old man go, he’s especially familiar with the blizzard! What are you doing, old man? Does the parish priest have to kneel down and beg you?”

"My coat!” Mr. Mayerkhov became angry, “I just called for my coat!”

"All right, all right, your coat, I’ll get it for you now!”

Soon, the coat and dry tobacco pipe were delivered into the old man’s hands.

While his wife helped him put on his coat, he spoke to the priest, “The old man next door is a Tatarian, he’s also familiar with the blizzards, we’ll go together, and we can certainly reduce many casualties!”

"He’s been called, he’s already reported to the church! I came especially to ask for you!”

"Alright then, let’s set off!”

So the old man, now fully equipped, vanished with the parish priest into the whirlwind of the blizzard.

The old woman stood at the door, staring long in the direction they left.

November 6th, the blizzard continued.

The headquarters post of Prosen Infantry Regiment 581 had already sealed all its windows, leaving only the machine gun ports.

These gun ports had also been blocked with the coats of dead soldiers – failing to do so would allow the cold wind pouring through one single port to freeze everyone inside the post.

Acting Battalion Commander Major Richard and several warriors huddled together around the small stove, boiling coffee, shivering uncontrollably.

Someone made a substantial decision, picked up the thermometer from beside their feet, then promptly started cursing, “Twenty-seven degrees below zero? And that’s with a fire!”

Major Richard sighed. The moisture he exhaled instantly turned to frost, some of which hung onto the stubble he hadn’t shaved in days – to shave in such weather was too dreadful, the razor was so cold it would likely tremble upon touching the skin, then cut the face.

Major Richard said, “Be content, if you move the thermometer away from the fire, it will freeze instantly and then explode.”

"Will it explode?” the person holding the thermometer asked in surprise.

"I don’t know, I’ve never seen a mercury thermometer freeze,” Major Richard shrugged his shoulders, “You can try and see, consider it a scientific experiment.”

At this moment, the machine gunner came looking for help: “Do you have any spare stuff for burning? The fire under the machine gun is about to go out, and I’m worried it’ll freeze over. It’d be terrible if the enemy attacked.”

"Even the Anteans wouldn’t attack in this ghastly weather, right?”

Someone muttered.

To echo this statement, the sound of Papasha outside rose.

Major Richard yelled, “Battle alert! Get to your positions! Open the gun ports!”

The machine gunner who had come to borrow fuel ran back to his position like a madman, and his assistant had already pulled the coat from the gun port.

The piercing cold wind immediately poured into the room, causing the flames on the little stove to dance wildly, as if they would extinguish at any moment.

Major Richard also rushed to his observation port, trying to pull out the object blocking it. After several unsuccessful tugs, it was clear that it was frozen, likely from water being spilled on it while drinking.

He had no choice but to squeeze past another warrior to look out from the firing port.

Through the swirling blizzard, not a single Antean figure could be seen.

However, the sound of Papasha continued, with several guns joining the “concerto.”

"Maybe the enemy is just shooting into the sky, solely to keep us unnerved,” the last remaining staff officer provided his professional insight.

"I don’t know,” said Major Richard, shaking his head, “Alright then, block up the holes again, or we’ll freeze to death before the enemy attacks. Get to it!”

While everyone was blocking the holes in every conceivable way, the machine gunner screamed out, startling everyone to a halt as they turned to look.

The machine gunner exclaimed, “The gun’s frozen! Damn, just exposed to the cold air for such a short while! How do the Anteans keep their weapons functioning?”

"They have real anti-freeze lubricant,” Major Richard said, “If we engage with the enemy, try to capture some lubricant for our use.”

"Damn, what’s our Science Academy doing that we’re even worse off than the Anteans!”

Major Richard: “Stop complaining. No one has it easy in this kind of winter, and the Anteans are certainly almost immobilized.”

While saying that, the Major took out a piece of stationery, and in the dim light of the stove, he penciled a letter to his wife:

"This detestable Antean winter, it has come so suddenly, so unreasonably. My dear, if only you knew the dire straits we are in, you would cry with pity.

"In such cruel cold, no one can continue to fight

The sound of Papasha’s strafing came again from outside.

People inside the room plunged back at the newly sealed gun ports.

Major Richard bellowed, “Enough! This must be an Antean trick, let them make noise! We’ll wait for the bombs to explode outside the walls before we take action! Stay put!”

The soldiers in the shelter hesitated for a moment but carried out the order.

The Major continued to write: “Our regiment, already worn down to less than five hundred men, are spread across three different fortresses. Calling them fortresses is a stretch; they’re just Antean shoddy brick houses – here, they are the best structures, but in Plowsonia, such would be outdone even by a suburban house

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