Arc of Fire

"The lucky ones are gone instantly, the less fortunate end up in the hospital, missing limbs, facing a lifetime of hardship!

"Don’t fall in love with soldiers, girls, don’t! After the war is over, find a lucky fellow with nimble legs to marry—that’s the right way! The only right way!”

The aunt’s words silenced the soldiers.

After a moment of silence, Pavlov said, “Auntie, this time it’s different from the civil war! We’ve seen with our own eyes that the Prosen devils are like demons, they slaughter civilians at will!

"We’ve witnessed them dump entire families spanning three generations into manure pits!”

"If we don’t fight, if we don’t annihilate them, everyone will be killed, they will take our land and use our corpses to fertilize their fields!”

The old lady stirred the potato and carrot soup in the big pot while replying, “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m cooking for you.”

While she spoke, the aunt suddenly couldn’t hold back her tears and began to sob quietly, reminded perhaps of some sorrowful memory.

The girls gathered around to comfort her, but the aunt shouted, “Peel your potatoes! The soldiers are waiting to eat! They are still waiting… to eat…”

————

Meanwhile, at the command headquarters.

The Chief of Staff of the 41st Army Group placed a map on the table.

"This is a map drawn by the staff officers. If it were the ignorant Rokossov, he definitely wouldn’t be able to clearly explain how they made it to Upper Peniye,” boasted the Chief of Staff, “He would be exposed instantly, and all his lies would collapse without a fight!”

The Archbishop of the Army Group came over to look at the map and asked, “Is this map accurate?”

"Accurate, drawn strictly to scale. The biggest difference from a real map is that this one includes landmarks based on aerial photos, all specifically picked according to the route described by Captain Sergey. If it was indeed Rokossov who directed their retreat to Upper Peniye, he would definitely remember!”

The Archbishop nodded and turned to the Duke, the Commander of the 41st Army Group.

The Duke said, “Very well, let’s use this to test Count Rokossov’s mettle! If his previous display of ignorance was all an act to charm the Crown Prince, then we shall recommend him for a medal.

"If he truly is ignorant, then we must find the real person who commanded this battle and put them to good use!”

————

The Tribunal’s vehicle stopped in front of an unimpressive little building.

Wang Zhong looked at the building with confusion, “The headquarters is here? It looks just like an ordinary house.”

It was even less impressive than the mechanical mill in Upper Peniye.

The driving Judge pointed toward the city hall building not far away, “Look over there, we’ve put up a military and national flag on the roof, and it gets bombed everyday. Fortunately, the building itself is made of reinforced concrete, which is quite sturdy.”

Wang Zhong replied, “I see, it’s to avoid air raids.”

The Judge said, “A traitor tried to guide the Prosen Air Force to the headquarters with a Smoke Bomb, but we caught and executed him by firing squad. Now, military vehicles are not allowed to stop nearby, nor hang colors that are easily identifiable from the air. After you get out, I’ll have to drive the car away. Hurry on, my lord Count.”

Only after Wang Zhong opened the door and got out of the vehicle did the jeep drive away, and once everyone else had gotten out as well.

At the entrance of the headquarters stood a young officer with a golden aiguillette on his uniform. Looking at that cord, Wang Zhong felt it resembled the “adjutant cord” of a Sturmtiger, with a golden one indicating the adjutant to a general.

The adjutant made a welcoming gesture.

Wang Zhong, however, was not in a hurry. He observed the plain headquarters, adjusted his clothes, and then strode confidently towards the entrance.

Upon entering the headquarters, he heard the familiar “beep-beep” of telegraph machines, and by looking down the hallway, he could see a room full of telegraphs with a crowd of operators busily working.

The Judge led Wang Zhong into the room opposite the telegraph room.

Inside was a table with a map, around which stood a crowd of high-ranking officers in lavish uniforms, their medals nearly dazzling Wang Zhong’s eyes.

Wang Zhong shifted his perspective to survey the room and got a rough idea of who was present, then saluted the highest-ranking among them, the Duke of Vozdrom, “Your Excellency the Duke, Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossov, at your command.”

The Duke returned the salute, “Konstantinovich, I’m glad you could make it. Come, tell us how you managed to escape from the encirclement in Ronied.”

As he spoke, the Duke pointed to the map in front of him.

Wang Zhong immediately went forward and began to explain, using the map.

He was already well acquainted with maps, having spent years playing various war games before he was transported to this world, some of which were purely about map exercises and aiming for realism.

And on his way out of Ronied, he had constantly shifted to an overhead view, becoming thoroughly familiar with the terrain.

About fifteen minutes later, Wang Zhong stopped talking.

The adjutant with the golden cord immediately passed him some water.

The Duke and the other senior officers looked at each other, perplexed.

Eventually, the Archbishop of the 41st Army Group spoke up, “Aleksei Konstantinovich, weren’t you last in your class at the military academy? Our understanding is that you could barely read a map.”