Chapter 128
Wang Zhong confirmed the enemy was retreating, then shouted into the radio: "Cease fire! Cease fire! Save the shells!"
While shouting, he picked up a branch knocked off the turret top by artillery fire and threw it at the messenger who was focusing entirely on the enemy.
The messenger flinched from the hit, turned his head, and looked at Wang Zhong in confusion.
Wang Zhong: "Cease fire! Tell all tanks to cease fire!"
"Oh!" The messenger finally sprinted off along the communication trench.
It took a full two minutes for all 30 T34s to completely stop firing.
No one knew what the enemy was doing under the cover of smoke.
Wang Zhong continued speaking to the messenger: "Order the infantry battalion to advance! Check the prisoners' ranks-capture any Captain or higher, especially those with staff armbands, adjutant sashes, briefcases, or map cases."
The messenger asked, "What about prisoners below the rank of Captain?"
Wang Zhong's first reaction was: "The enemy fought bravely, none surrendered. We should commemorate their fighting spirit with a monument."
"Yes, sir!" The messenger turned and ran.
"Wait a moment!" Wang Zhong called out to him.
If they kept enemy officers, it could have serious consequences. Plus, someone had once said that if you never take prisoners, the enemy you face in the counterattack phase will always fight to the death.
After a second of silence, Wang Zhong changed his orders: "Forget what I said about prisoners. For enemies below Captain, wound their arms so they can't fight for three months. Then send them walking back toward their own lines."
The messenger nodded and turned to leave.
Though they weren't slaughtering prisoners, the 151st Temporary Infantry Division was in no shape to handle them. Better to use them to feed the enemy false intelligence.
Wang Zhong: "Order all tanks to rev their engines-make them louder!"
The entire ambush position erupted into deafening roars, as if an entire tank army was advancing.
--
Filippov approached the highway littered with tank and vehicle wreckage with his platoon.
Yes, Filippov had already been promoted to platoon leader, but it wasn't a special promotion-after all, as artillery cadets, they were supposed to graduate as warrant officer platoon leaders. This was just starting early.
Aside from the squad leaders, Filippov's platoon was all rookies. They'd already lost seven or eight during the march. Who knew what kind of nonsense they'd pull now that they were seeing dead enemies for the first time.
It made Filippov extremely nervous.
After cautiously approaching the highway with the entire platoon, Filippov ordered, "Spread out, don't bunch up! Don't you remember what I said during training? Bunching up gets you killed faster-machine guns love clustered targets!"
"If you move alone, the machine gunner won't want to waste ammo on you."
Actually, that was an Ant Army concept-their ammo had always been limited and needed to be conserved.
A different army would unleash full firepower at a lone enemy-machine guns and rifles together.
After watching his rookies spread out, Filippov was the first to step onto the main road.
As far as he could see, Prossenian corpses were everywhere, and some tanks still smoldered on the road.
A messenger on horseback galloped down the road: "The General orders-capture officers of Captain rank or higher. Wound the arms of lower ranks and send them running back. Wounded enemies must carry themselves back!"
Filippov: "You heard him! Semyon, take your squad and check the tanks. Don't look inside-just pop the hatches and throw in grenades."
Squad leader Semyon immediately led his squad toward the tanks.
Filippov was still shouting, "Take the enemy weapons first! Their grenades are made well-better than ours! And their submachine guns are top-notch. Look at me, I'm not switching-mine complements the Tokarev perfectly!"
As he spoke, Filippov adjusted the position of the MP submachine gun slung over his shoulder so it was ready to fire.
At that moment, a veteran who had fought in Loktov shouted to Filippov, "Filippov, these guys' uniforms look different! Are they the Emperor's Guards from Prossen?"
"Could be," Filippov said, tugging on his rain cloak-a mark of the Guards infantry from Ant.
Just then, squad leader Semyon shouted, "Grenade going in! Don't get spooked!"
No sooner had he spoken than a muffled blast rang out, and smoke burst from the hatch of enemy tank number 235.
Squad leader Semyon jumped down and rushed to the next tank with his men.
At that moment, Filippov saw rookie Alexei standing in front of a dead enemy, seemingly deep in thought.
He walked over and asked, "Alyosha, what are you thinking?"
"Platoon leader! Nothing, really. I was just wondering-is war really this simple and pleasant?"
Filippov: "We thought the same thing after repelling the first wave at Loktov. One precise artillery volley from the General, and the enemy completely collapsed. We thought we'd be attacking Prossenia the next day."
Alexei: "And then?"
"Then, half of us didn't live to see the next sunrise," Filippov said. "Or rather, we became the colors on the General's flag."
Alexei opened his mouth wide, like a goldfish gasping for air.
In the distance, squad leader Semyon shouted, "Grenade going in, don't-"
Suddenly, a Prossenian tanker popped his head out of the tank and gunned down the rookie about to throw a grenade inside.
The grenade dropped right at squad leader Semyon's feet. He only had time to curse, "Cyka," before being blasted to the ground, his severed leg flying high.
The Prossenian tank crew on the turret fired his submachine gun at Semyon's squad, instantly downing three rookies.
Filippov's rookies froze. The veterans had already hit the ground.
Filippov himself dropped to one knee and raised his submachine gun.
In that split second, Alexei opened fire.
The first round from his Tokarev semi-auto missed, sparking against the edge of the turret.
The enemy tanker immediately turned his aim, but Alexei's second shot came through and punched through his shoulder.
Alexei shouted and kept firing until the Tokarev's magazine was empty.
Actually, the last few shots all missed, hitting the trees behind the tank.
The now-lifeless enemy slid back into the tank under the pull of gravity.
Alexei kept shouting, pulling the trigger desperately, not caring that no bullets remained.
Filippov grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it in one smooth motion-the smoking "little flying stick" dropped into the tank hatch.
A muffled bang, and the tank fell silent.
Alexei collapsed to his knees, then slumped sideways.
Filippov thought he had been shot and rushed over: "Where are you hit? Are you okay?"
A quick check showed he hadn't been shot at all-he was totally fine. But he lay on the ground like a wilted eggplant.
Filippov ignored him and ran to Semyon's squad: "Medic! Medic! Nurse!"
"Here, here!" A female nurse in uniform rushed over, felt squad leader Semyon's neck, shook her head, and moved to the next.
After handing over the wounded to the nurse, Filippov returned to Alexei's side and found him clutching his stomach in pain.
"What's wrong, Private?" Filippov asked.
"My stomach... it's cramping. I can't feel my legs. Am I dying?"
Filippov grabbed Alexei's shoulder and hauled him up: "No! You're fine! You're just too tense! Stand up!"
But it was useless-the rookie Alexei collapsed like a puddle of goo, sobbing, "I'm dying... I'm dying..."
Filippov tried comforting him again, then shouted, "Priest! Where's the priest!"
Priests were professionals at handling this kind of situation-no doubt about it.
But after shouting for a while, Filippov got no response.
Just then, he had an idea.
He flung rookie Alexei aside-the latter collapsed like a puddle of goo.
Filippov climbed onto the enemy tank, pulled out the submachine gunner who had ambushed them, and dragged him in front of Alexei.
Then Filippov pulled the rookie up again and forced him to look at the tanker: "Look closely. This is the enemy you shot!"
Rookie Alexei stopped crying and stared at the enemy: "I shot him?"
Filippov: "Now, as your platoon leader, I order you to pee on his pants!"
Rookie Alexei froze: "What? Why?"
"I'll tell you why!" Filippov said while subtly reducing his grip on Alexei. "Isn't our commander, Brigadier General Rokosov, brave? If you don't know how brave, ask the tankers-ask the old guys from the 23rd Tank Corps. They'll tell you: back when BT tanks only had two-man turrets, the General stood outside the tank in the rain of bullets, commanding and mowing down Prossenians with the roof-mounted machine gun!"
Rookie Alexei showed admiration: "I've heard of that! But what does that have to do with peeing..."
"Do you know what kind of man he used to be? Ask the veterans of the old Third Rear Amur Regiment-they all know! Before the war, the General was a coward, and no one wanted to follow him to the front. When the war started and Prossenian tanks fired their first shell, the General pissed himself!"
Rookie Alexei looked even more puzzled: "I know that... but that doesn't change the fact that he's now our brave and fearless General, sir."
"You still don't get it?" Filippov said. "That piss-the General pissed away his cowardice! That's called courage born of shame! You're a coward now, but you killed an enemy! All you have to do now is what the General did, and you'll be fine!"
Filippov pointed at the enemy: "Pee! On his pants! What are you hesitating for? Weren't you just about to piss your own?"
Rookie Alexei squeezed out a word: "Yes."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
Rookie Alexei gritted his teeth and peed on the enemy.
When he was done, Filippov stepped back: "Does your stomach still hurt?"
"Eh? That..."
Filippov: "Check your legs-are they still limp?"
"Wow! I... I really do feel braver!"
The others looked at each other in disbelief.
"Wait a second, I just remembered," someone shouted, "I'm the one who killed that enemy! He's mine!"
"Get outta here, that's clearly from a machine gun. Your Tokarev can't make a hole that big! I think this one I peed on is the wrong guy-I shot him, I'm peeing on him!"
"Then I'll take this one!"
Just then, the company's priest finally arrived, frowning as he looked at the scene before him: "Hold on! What are you all doing?"
He spoke while holding his nose-it reeked too much.
Filippov: "We're carrying out a courage-boosting ritual for the rookie!"
The priest looked at the enemy corpses and understood.
The priest: "You all... collect the weapons first, then pee! These weapons-who's going to use them now that they're dirty? Whoever peed on them collects, cleans, and uses them! Got it? Move it!"
That night, the regimental chaplain of the 1st Company, 1st Battalion, 31st Guards Infantry Regiment wrote in the log: "I originally thought the rumors about the General's dark past would weaken our unit's cohesion, but now it's clear I was completely overthinking it. In fact, these dark past stories, in a bizarre way (scratch that-in a ridiculous way), have enhanced the General's authority. This is very much worth deeper study."
I swear this is the last time we use a pee joke (seriously)
(End of Chapter)