Cannon Fire Arc - Chapter 52 Sunset on the Battlefield (Extra for 8000 Monthly Votes)
An hour later, Wang Zhong had the map staff gather around the old man, holding the map and asking about the surrounding grassland terrain piece by piece according to the map’s numbering.
Military maps are divided into coordinate grids, each with its own number, and there are even smaller grids underneath.
In this way, when necessary, countless maps can be pieced together into one large map according to their numbers.
The old man was, after all, aged and had no idea what the numbers meant, so the maps had to be pieced together like a puzzle before he could “identify” each location.
Fortunately, the command post was now in a barn, with plenty of space for the staff to assemble the puzzle.
Wang Zhong stood by, unable to get involved as he was not as savvy in military cartography as the staff. He was just an enthusiast—how could he understand how to piece together maps?
After about half an hour, the command post’s guard brought in the old man’s son.
The young herdsman representative froze upon seeing a large group of people gathered around his elderly father: “Eh?”
Wang Zhong stepped forward, “Your father is helping us confirm the terrain of the surrounding grasslands. Without confirmation, we wouldn’t have known how rugged the terrain under the grass truly is. Without your father, our combat operations could have been significantly hindered.”
“Eh?” the herdsman looked bewildered, “I came over worrying that my father was caught as a remnant criminal… This…”
At this moment, the old man turned his head and shouted at his son: “You fool! Why didn’t you tell me that the man leading the troops is His Majesty the Tsar’s sworn brother? The Tsar is our father and mother, and his brother is our uncle!”
Wang Zhong and the young herdsman: “Eh?”
Then they exchanged a glance. Had they suddenly become in-laws?
The herdsman was the first to recover: “Dad, you can’t count it like that, it’s disrespectful to the general! We are just ordinary herdsmen, representatives living in the city!”
The old man: “Stop talking, go get my old map pack. There are a few places I can’t remember. Their new map is too new, too precise, not to my liking. I can only recall when I look at the old map! Quick, run!”
Wang Zhong: “Vasily, drive him there, and bring the maps back as fast as you can.”
“Alright!” Vasily stuffed the map he was holding to another staff member, clearly relishing the task.
It was apparent that he did not enjoy piecing together maps.
After Vasily left, Wang Zhong glanced at the busy staff and said to Pavlov: “I’ll take a walk outside.”
Pavlov: “When you say outside, do you mean outside the city or just outside this warehouse?”
“Of course, just outside the warehouse, no wait, perhaps I should tour the whole city to boost everyone’s morale.”
Popov immediately stood up: “I have to accompany you. I can’t let you take all of my work.”
Wang Zhong: “You can just say you want to keep me from leaving the city.”
“That is not the case. I believe what you’re most concerned about now is the updated map; I am merely fulfilling my duty as a Military Bishop,” Popov said before gesturing to his aide, “Prepare the horses.”
Wang Zhong walked straight out of the warehouse.
In truth, using a warehouse as a command center gave Wang Zhong a very strong sense.
As a child, after watching “The Rock,” he was deeply impressed by the scene of the FBI storming into the warehouse at the docks to set up a command center—although there were many impressive aspects of that movie.
Wang Zhong walked slowly, observing the people at the command post busily at work.
With one hundred thousand combat personnel, not to mention the numerous laborers and support staff, managing such a vast entity was no small task for the command post staff.
This hectic scene always reminded Wang Zhong of the stock exchange on trading days.
If Wang Zhong had not experienced the front lines firsthand, and only observed the command post, he might have erroneously concluded that “front line soldiers just need to follow orders and fight the enemy, while the rear staff have to consider a lot more.”
As Wang Zhong ambled along, Popov couldn’t help but ask, “You’re not really here just to relax and kill time, are you?”
“Of course not. I am inspecting the situation. It’s just that the departments are operating normally now, and they don’t need my input,” shrugged Wang Zhong.
Popov nodded and then the conversation turned to today’s battle.
“Although we won today, we let the enemy’s veterans escape. After they reorganize and rest in the rear, those veterans will be a big problem.”
Wang Zhong nodded: “Yes, we must strive to fight annihilation battles that deplete the veterans and technical soldiers of the Prussian Army and prevent the enemy from replenishing their ranks.
“Unfortunately, annihilation warfare requires superior forces, terrain, and a little cooperation from the enemy.”
Speaking, Wang Zhong shook his head, “I was hoping to achieve results on the grasslands with my new tide warfare technique. But now I find out that the grasslands are full of impassable complex patches, not as open as the desert.”
Popov laughed: “The people of Kazarlia are used to the black soil.”
His mood suddenly dropped: “I wonder how long before we can recapture Kazarlia, recapture the black soil.”
“Don’t worry, that day will come,” said Wang Zhong.
During their conversation, the two men (along with several guards) stepped outside the warehouse.
It was already 9:30 pm, and the sun was setting in the west, coloring the entire sky with fiery red clouds. Even obscured by the city’s buildings, the view was still breathtakingly beautiful.
Wang Zhong stared at the fiery red clouds, honestly admitting to himself that he never grew tired of such sunsets, no matter how many times he saw them after 9 o’clock.
Popov: “What are you planning to do with the cavalry?”
Wang Zhong looked at the Military Bishop, “Isn’t it obvious? We should disrupt the enemy’s supply convoys. Cavalry can sustain themselves for quite a while on the steppe; horses can carry a considerable amount of compressed forage, and there’s water in the grasslands for replenishing our canteens at any time.
“As for the horses, I believe they’ll take good care of themselves. If a rider falls in battle, his horse will probably enjoy a free and easy life on the steppe, heeding the call of the wild.”
Popov said, “That sounds reasonable, but how do we deal with the enemy’s rear guard forces?”
“We don’t engage them,” Wang Zhong looked at Popov. “If we encounter them, we go around. We never meet the enemy head-on; we only attack those convoys that aren’t accompanied by substantial defense forces—the enemy can’t possibly assign adequate escorts to all their convoys.”
At that moment, Popov’s aide led a few horses over.
Wang Zhong’s “old flame” was mingling among the herd, like a dandy surrounded by admirers. He snapped his fingers, and Bucephalus immediately left the mares, frolicking towards Wang Zhong and attempting to flip his cap when he arrived.
Wang Zhong said, “Alright, behave! Don’t mess with my cap!”
Bucephalus stopped and stood erect, half-raising its body as if being reviewed by a soldier.
Wang Zhong beckoned the horse, saying, “Alright, you can relax; come here.”
Only then did the horse take small, leisurely steps towards Wang Zhong.
Wang Zhong mounted and with a squeeze of the horse’s sides, he made the horse trot off.
Popov and the guards hurriedly mounted to follow, but it seemed only Grigori managed to catch up with Wang Zhong.
“General, warn us before you sprint off next time!” the senior sergeant said.
Wang Zhong replied, “Didn’t you keep up?”
“When I was in the village, I was the runner-up in the horse races.”
Wang Zhong teased, “Only runner-up?”
“The lord’s son had a much better horse than I did, so much better that despite all my skills, I couldn’t outrun him. After that, I never raced horses again.”
Wang Zhong said, “Now you’ve caught up to my Bucephalus.”
Grigori replied, “Because I am riding a good horse too. You might not know, but all of the horses in our Army Group have turned into fine steeds, selected from the stables of the nobility—many noble stables are now state-run, which is why they can provide good horses for us.”
Wang Zhong thought to himself, do we have this now?
He had no idea!
Bucephalus glanced back at Grigori’s horse, then focused ahead, starting to accelerate.
Clearly, it felt a little challenged.
Grigori also kicked his horse’s belly and leaned low, lying flat on its back.
Wang Zhong did the same.
The two of them raced through the city until a cart pulled by oxen suddenly appeared ahead; Wang Zhong yanked the reins hard, and Bucephalus skillfully turned around, coming to a stop in front of the cart.
Grigori, showcasing his superb horsemanship, lightly guided his horse’s head, threading the gap between the cart and the wall before turning back.
The cart driver, an old man, angrily exclaimed, “Running horses in the city, what’s the meaning of this—oh, it’s you, sir general. I have some home-pickled cucumbers here, would you like to try some?”
Wang Zhong said, “Yes, let me have a taste.”
By then, Popov and a big group of guards finally caught up, seeing Wang Zhong snatching cucumbers from the local, Popov remarked, “Who decided that we wouldn’t take even a thread from the people?”
Wang Zhong replied, “I’ll pay for it.”
The old man was instantly moved, “Our own army is the best. When the Prussian Army was here, they smashed a lot of my cucumber jars and didn’t pay me a cent! General, please drive the enemy out quickly!”
Wang Zhong said, “We will fight here until August. You should take this time to evacuate to the rear. Everyone needs to go.”
The old man froze, “Only until August? Wasn’t it said that we wouldn’t cede an inch of ground?”
Wang Zhong explained, “Last year, His Majesty the Tsar’s order was to not give up an inch of ground, and as a result, we needlessly lost millions of troops. The thing about war is that we need to preserve lives even if we lose territory. Lost land can be recovered one day, but lost lives mean losing everything.”
The old man asked, “When will you come back?”
Recalling Earth’s history, Wang Zhong said, “Probably in the spring of 916, or if we’re quick, we might push back by this winter.”
The old man felt relieved, “That’s not too long. I’ll just wait here for you. My son went missing in battle; maybe he’ll make his way back, and if I leave, he won’t be able to find his way home.”
Wang Zhong hesitated, then turned to look at Popov.
Popov muttered quietly, “There you go, putting it on me!”
He then assured the old man, “Don’t worry, your son is surely out there fighting as a guerrilla! When we triumph, he will definitely return!”
Or he might have become an unnamed grave somewhere.
But there was no need to voice such possibilities.
The old man looked very pleased and handed over two jars of pickles, “Then I’ll take your word for it. Here, have some! Eat!”
