Chapter 275

Twenty minutes after the battle ended, the troops continued moving forward.

The remaining journey was relatively smooth. They crossed the third lake area at 3:55 a. m. and arrived at the designated assembly point at 4:00 a. m. —a wind‑sheltered pine forest.

Degjun engineers had already prepared hot food here: a thick pea soup with floating pieces of meat, along with black bread and hot tea. For the Sakura Nation soldiers who had frozen through the night, it was a heavenly reception.

Zhongcun sat on a fallen tree trunk, cradling the hot soup and sipping it in small mouthfuls. It was very salty and greasy, but the heat was rapidly spreading through his frozen body.

Hans walked over and sat down beside him.

"We have just received word from the corps headquarters," the German captain said, "the other units have also arrived at the designated positions on schedule. The main assault will begin in two hours, at 6:00."

Zhongcun glanced at the sky—the eastern horizon was beginning to pale, but the sun had not yet risen. A 6:00 attack meant they would be thrown into battle at dawn.

"Our mission?" he asked.

"As the second wave," Hans said, "the first wave is being handled by two divisions of Degjun's 10th Group Army. Your corps' task is to widen the Breakthrough and then push in depth."

Zhongcun nodded. This matched expectations—Degjun would not assign the mercenary units the primary assault from the outset.

"Also," Hans pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, "this is a telegram we just received, forwarded through your Sakura Nation's communication channels."

Zhongcun took the paper and unfolded it. It was written in Japanese, brief and formal:

"To all units of the European Expeditionary Force: Domestic reports indicate a victorious first battle, and Your Majesty Tianhuang is greatly pleased. May you all fight bravely, and raise the Empire's martial might in foreign lands. The first batch of battle‑result bonuses has been disbursed and will be delivered with the next supply convoy. Headquarters, Taisho 4, January 17."

It was unsigned, but Zhongcun knew it came from Tokyo, from those who decided to send them here.

"Good news?" Hans asked.

"Words of encouragement," Zhongcun folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, "nothing special."

But in fact, that sentence echoed in his mind: "The battle‑result bonuses have been disbursed." Thus, their fighting here was truly quantified into money and sent back home.

"Major Zhongcun," Hans suddenly changed the subject, "how do you view this war?"

"What do you mean, how to view?"

"What I mean is," Hans chose his words carefully, "why do you Sakura Nation people volunteer to come? So far, so cold, to fight a war that has no direct relation to you."

Zhongcun remained silent for a long time, watching the sky outside the forest gradually brighten.

"For survival," he finally said, offering a partial truth. "Our country… needs to live on. And war is sometimes a way to survive."

Hans seemed to understand the answer, or at least thought he understood.

"Deguo also fights for survival," he said. "Yingguo, Faguo, and Russia want to lock us on the European continent, preventing our development. This war is our chance to break the shackles."

A typical Deguo viewpoint. Zhongcun had heard similar statements from Hans and other German officers. Every nation finds a legitimate reason for its participation, believing it fights for survival.

"Do you think we can win?" Hans asked, this time a rare hint of hesitation in his voice.

Zhongcun turned his head to look at him. In the German captain's eyes, the usual confidence and composure were gone, replaced by hidden fatigue and uncertainty.

"I don't know," Zhongcun answered honestly. "The war has only been underway for half a year, yet it is already so brutal. Who can see the end?"

Hans nodded and drank the last sip of tea from his cup.

"Regardless," he said, "thank you for coming. At least today, you have proven yourselves reliable warriors."

Reliable. The word sounded somewhat harsh to Zhongcun. Reliable tools? Reliable mercenaries?

But he only nodded: "We will do our best."

Breakfast ended, and the troops began final battle preparations. Soldiers inspected weapons, distributed ammunition, and officers gathered to study maps and confirm the attack routes.

Zhongcun walked to a relatively quiet spot, pulled a small notebook and pencil from his chest. This was the "Combat Log" specially requested by Lanfang, to record in detail the usage, malfunctions, and soldier feedback of weapons and equipment.

He opened the notebook and began to write:

"Taisho 4, January 18, early morning, east side of Mazuli Lake area.

First combat contact, attacking the Russian sentry company's positions.

Weapon and equipment usage status:

Eleven‑year‑model light machine gun (crooked stock): two units deployed. One overheated after about ninety continuous rounds and had to pause for cooling; the other jammed after roughly one hundred twenty rounds. Reloading was difficult in the severe cold; soldiers wearing thick gloves struggled with the ammunition tray. Suppressive fire was initially effective but lacked endurance.

38‑year‑model rifle: no special issues, but the anti‑freeze grease performance requires long‑term observation.

Hand grenade (type 91): explosive power sufficient, fragment dispersion good.

Recommendations:

Design a more effective cooling system for the machine gun or a quickly replaceable barrel.

Improve the ammunition tray design to facilitate loading in severe cold.

Consider equipping the machine gun with a snow‑camouflage cover."

After writing these, Zhongcun paused, then turned to the notebook's last page. There were no lines, just blank space.

He hesitated for a few seconds, then wrote:

"Soldier condition: fatigued but morale still acceptable. Generally doubtful of the combat purpose, yet obeying orders. The severe cold is the greatest enemy; frostbite exceeds combat injuries.

Commander's observation: Degjun's tactical organization is tight, but they regard our forces as auxiliary. An initial victory might alter this impression, but more proof is needed.

Personal reflection: We fight here, and money reaches home. It is a transaction, but the soldiers pay with their lives. Is this trade worthwhile? I cannot answer."

He stopped writing at that point. Zhongcun knew that if superiors saw these words, they would cause trouble. Yet he needed to record them, to give concrete form to his chaotic thoughts.

He closed the notebook and placed it back in his chest. In the distance, engine sounds rose—the Degjun trucks and artillery units were moving toward the front line, preparing for the main assault.

A new battle was about to begin. More brutal, larger in Scale, with more deaths.

Zhongcun stood, brushed the snow off himself, and walked toward his unit. The soldiers had already formed ranks, awaiting orders. Their young faces appeared pale in the morning light, eyes filled with fear yet also resolve.

"Gentlemen," Zhongcun raised his voice to ensure everyone could hear, "the upcoming battle will decide whether we can fulfill our mission. Remember, we fight not only for ourselves but for the country behind us, for the families awaiting our return."

These words were clichéd, but the soldiers needed to hear them. They needed some sort of meaning, even if it was fabricated.

"Long live Your Majesty Tianhuang!" someone shouted.

"Long live!" more people responded.

The shouts echoed through the forest, startling a flock of crows that croaked hoarsely as they flew toward the gray sky.