Arc of Fire

“I think the Judges are pretty nice,” Wang Zhong said with a shrug.

“If I were tight with the Crown Prince and he was madly sending over heavy equipment, I’d think they were nice too.” Pavlov seemed to awaken a talent for playing the straight man, achieving a level one-tenth that of Yu Dad.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than another Judge walked in!

Pavlov instinctively raised both hands, “I didn’t say anything!”

The Judge cast a sharp glance at him, then turned to Wang Zhong and said, “The Front Army intercepted enemy communications. The enemy’s 15th Armored Division Commander, Lord Rendolf, has died. They’re asking if we know what happened?”

Wang Zhong, “I did it. I personally drove—commanded—Tank 422 to within 850 meters of the enemy headquarters and attacked with high-explosive shells and machine guns. The entire tank crew can testify. Just reply that to headquarters.”

The Judge nodded, turned to leave, then suddenly turned back, snapped to attention, and saluted Wang Zhong, “Salute to you, General!”

Wang Zhong nodded his head.

The Judge turned and left,

Wang Zhong gestured at his retreating figure and said to Pavlov, “See, they’re pretty nice, right?”

This time Pavlov couldn’t find a reply and only blinked, forcibly changing the subject, “I’m currently reassembling the units. By tonight we should be able to reorganize. I wouldn’t count on your help, but can you call Bishop Popov back?”

“I can,” Wang Zhong affirmed.

Pavlov continued, “I need you to patrol the positions. We’ve had heavy casualties and need to boost morale. Otherwise, come nightfall, when the soldiers remember the faces of those who’ve left us, organization will collapse.”

Wang Zhong, “I think they’ll be fine. I have confidence in them.”

While speaking, Wang Zhong suddenly remembered how Peniye had been supported by countless soldiers’ hands when he fell off the tank with a fever, then he thought of just recently, how pair after pair of hands had pulled him out of the depths of despair and helped him stand.

How could an army like this, a people like this, possibly be defeated.

As if guessing his thoughts, Pavlov said, “It’s your duty, General. It’s even more important than commanding the battle yourself! After all, commanding a battle can be delegated to a capable officer, but this task can only be done by you.”

Wang Zhong, “You’re right.”

Pavlov, “Best mount your… uh, Bucephalus, was it?”

“Bucephalus, is it okay?”

“The stables got hit by enemy artillery, we thought all the horses were done for. But it just came out on its own and was eating grass in the yard. Not a scratch on it. I had the Guardian Army take care of it.”

Wang Zhong nodded, no longer disturbed the busy chief of staff wrestling with documents, and turned to leave the headquarters.

Just as he reached the door, he saw Grigori leading Bucephalus and another chestnut horse towards him.

Grigori looked much worse off than in the morning—his clothes were wrinkled and torn in several places, dirty enough to turn water into ink.

But he seemed completely uninjured, with hardly any blood on him.

Wang Zhong, “Where’s your ammo pouch?”

“It got shot off in the fight. Don’t worry, I’ve got a new one.” Grigori pulled a canvas bag from behind him with about four magazines in it.

Wang Zhong also noticed that the Sergeant Major’s submachine gun had been cleaned, shining with oil, clearly, he had maintained his weapon before coming to meet him.

“Did Pavlov order you to bring the horse over?”

“No, I thought it’d be more convenient to move around the city on horseback. The city is… full of wreckage and craters left by enemy cannons, not good for driving.”

Wang Zhong nodded, about to reply, when two BT-7’s thundered into the combat team’s location.

The lead BT-7 was the platoon commander’s vehicle, with a radio antenna.

The platoon commander didn’t wait for the tank to stop before he climbed out and approached Wang Zhong in three steps, “General!”

Wang Zhong, “Only these two left?”

“A few got stuck, enemy grenade launchers damaged them. We’ve come to receive combat assignments, General!”

Wang Zhong, “There shouldn’t be fighting tonight. You guys can get some good rest.”

At that moment, the crew from the BT-7s all climbed out and gathered around Wang Zhong’s T34 command tank, buzzing excitedly as if they were looking at a large animal newly bought to the village.

One of the drivers, while inspecting the tank’s engine, asked Beliyakov, “How thick is this armor?”

Beliyakov recited the approximate armor data like it was a menu.

“Wow!”

“Compared to this, we’re practically running around naked!”

“Damn the marshals, why don’t they equip us with this thing! It could save a lot of lives!”

Wang Zhong jumped in, “There are eight T34s that were lost due to breakdowns, just outside on the plains. Tonight we plan to go out and repair them. Some of the tank crews probably took losses too. Once the crews are consolidated, if there are extra tanks, you guys can take them over.”

The tank operators were shocked to hear this, “What?”

“Really?”

Wang Zhong, “Really.”

At that moment, the platoon leader asked, “With such thick armor on the tank, how could we still lose eight of them?”

Wang Zhong replied, “The enemy is very experienced. I estimate they’ve learned from fighting the Carolingian heavy tanks. They aim for tracks and turret rings, and since these T34 units are parade professionals, once the turret ring gets stuck, they abandon the tank.”

Actually, Wang Zhong wasn’t certain where the Prosen people had gotten the experience to deal with “hard” tanks, as he wasn’t even sure if the Carolingians had B1 heavy tanks on this side or not.

But, in the history of Earth, the first Armored Division to encounter the T34, the Sturmtiger, did indeed quickly find a method to deal with the T34: hit the tracks and turret rings, then leave the rest to the infantry.

Early T34s, blind as they were, would be finished once the infantry got close enough after they lost mobility.

As for the KV, even if its tracks were broken, it could still inflict heavy casualties on infantry, fighting until running out of ammo and supplies.

The tank operators of the 23rd Armored Division looked at each other, then in unison declared, “We would never do that!”

Then the “parade professionals” got offended, “Oh, getting cocky, are we? Let’s see how you do in a T34, then we’ll compare!”

“Hey, and now we’re boasting! Do you see the tank markings on my vehicle? Those are my victories! I’ve scored this many even driving a BT-7, and it was all achieved today!”

Today, Wang Zhong led the remaining men of the 23rd Tank Division to achieve quite impressive results.

Wang Zhong coughed to interrupt the arguing tank operators.

When all eyes were on him, he said, “Today, you’ve all performed splendidly! The Prosen people have always looked down on our armored forces, but from today onwards, they’ll have to take us seriously!

“Tomorrow, we face another tough battle. The enemy’s entire armored cluster has already crossed Bogdanovka, so more and more tanks will appear in front of us.

“You don’t have to worry about not getting your share of victories. We’ll be here, making sure the enemy recognizes our strength!”

The tank operators wore expressions of determination and, after Wang Zhong finished speaking, they shouted in unison, “Ura!”

————

Vasily prodded the ground with the muzzle of his Tokarev where a Prosen soldier lay.

This was the enemy he had personally killed when they had retreated. This was the only enemy he could be certain he had killed thus far.

The battle had been too fierce before, and Vasily had been too busy firing desperately out the window to notice whether his bullets had hit someone or not.

He lifted the enemy’s helmet with his rifle to see a young, lifeless face.

Someone yelled from behind, “Don’t move, raise your hands!”

Vasily turned around to see it was Filippov.

Filippov was also startled, lowering his gun while asking, “Why are you wearing a Prosen’s backpack?”

Vasily replied, “This is the radio taken directly by the general from the enemy! Just now, the enemy reached our command post, so I had to join in the fight and ended up carrying this thing.

“If you had fired, and broken it, the general would have made you carry manure as punishment!”

Filippov laughed, “Damn, acting like we’ve never carried it before.”

Leaning against the wall, he slowly sat down and took out a rolled cigarette.

“You smoke now?” Vasily asked, teasingly approaching.

Filippov replied, “I suddenly found out that not smoking for health reasons doesn’t seem to make much sense. After all, you see, we might die before we even have to worry about health.”

Vasily nodded and said, “Give me one, too, to try it out.”

Soon after, the two who had never smoked before both started coughing violently.

After stamping out the cigarette butts, the two old friends sat side by side leaning against the wall.

“Nikolai is dead,” Filippov said. “And Barfinovich, too.”

Vasily was silent for a few seconds, then said, “Dmitry is alive and kicking.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Yes, I had wanted to mention who had died, but since I was always at the command post, Yegorov and the veterans are too crafty to die that easily. I saw him throw back Prosen’s grenades at least three times! Three!”

Filippov laughed, “That impressive? I only blew up three of the enemy’s tanks together with Nikolai. It was unrealistically easy; Nikolai threw Molotov cocktails, and I covered him with a submachine gun I picked up, shooting the Prosen soldiers as they climbed out of the tanks.

“Later, Nikolai was shot while throwing a Molotov cocktail. The bullet hit his arm, the bottle fell, and started burning at his feet.

“He was rolling around, begging me: ‘Put me out of my misery, please! I’m begging you, Filippov!’”

Vasily asked, “Did you grant his wish?”

“I didn’t hear him, the enemy was coming up, and I spent two magazines before I drove them back. When I looked again, Nikolai had already taken his own life.”

Vasily: “If you didn’t hear him, how do you know what he said?”

Filippov laughed, “Damn it, Vasily, you truly are a bastard. Damn it.”

Vasily: “Maybe you’re right. Do you know? I’ve met Nikolai’s mother, she works at the agricultural station, and she’s a part-time preacher at the local church’s women’s group. When we go to visit him later, you can’t tell this story.

“You should say that Nikolai fought against seven or eight Prosen devils, managed to kill one and then was treacherously ambushed by the enemy.”

Filippov was silent for a few seconds, then nodded, “You’re right! Nikolai killed a whole platoon of devils with his submachine gun! Then he died heroically while reloading!”

“Exactly, just like that! He did good! Just like that!” Vasily repeated emphatically.