色中色 地址

————

Wang Zhong actually spotted the defense line of the 63rd Army even earlier than the scouts did.

In order not to attract the attention of the people around him, he specifically waited for the cavalry scouts to return and report before issuing the order, “Go immediately and inform our allies that we are the Third Rear Amur Group of the Vanguard of Upper Peniye, along with us are the Ronied Support Battalion, and the field hospital. Do not fire.”

The scout saluted, turned his little gray horse around, and galloped away at full speed.

Wang Zhong left the formation and put on the air of an officer, shouting to the soldiers, “Soldiers! I know you have fought bravely for a day and marched all night, and you are very tired!

"But now a new mission falls upon our shoulders! We must exhibit the demeanor of a victorious army and inspire the morale of our comrades! Let them know the Prussians can be defeated!

"All troops, attention!”

The troops in front of Wang Zhong immediately came to a halt, and the command to stand at attention was passed down.

Soon, the whole unit stopped moving.

Wang Zhong: “Dress right! Eyes front! Raise your heads and puff out your chests, and walk in step! March — in unison!”

The previously disordered steps now became uniform, and everyone’s feet “spoke” with one voice.

Wang Zhong stood on a mound, watching the forest of bayonets passing in front of him, and nodded in satisfaction.

Although he felt that it was time to sing a song, considering that the soldiers were indeed very tired, he decided against it.

————

The soldiers of the 510th Regiment of the 75th Division of the 63rd Army watched with amazement at this ragged but high-spirited unit.

The regimental commander, Borokino, stepped out of his command bunker and stood on the hill watching this small unit.

The military chaplain stood by his side, marveling, “They look wretched, but every one of them is full of energy. It feels like they are not the remnants of a defeated force, but a troop that has won a victory?”

Borokino: “Don’t you know? They broke through from Ronied, and then, without any reinforcements, held up against a Prussian assault group of elite forces at Upper Peniye. They destroyed dozens of tanks alone.”

"Oh.” The chaplain let out an admiring sound, “That’s impressive. Who commanded them?”

"Count Rocossov.”

The chaplain was stunned, turned his head with an incredulous look at the commander: “Who?”

"Rocossov.” Borokino repeated.

"Which Rocossov?” the chaplain asked again, as the Rocossov surname was quite common in Livonia and Moravia, and parts of these regions were under the rule of the Ante Empire, which, to consolidate its rule, once had the local nobles exchange lands with the native nobility.

Borokino: “The one who graduated five classes after me, at the bottom of his class.”

"That Rocossov?” The chaplain was shocked.

Borokino pointed at the troop: “Look, that one, walking next to the formation. Don’t be fooled by his robust appearance, he worked out just to pick up girls.”

The chaplain scrutinized that Rocossov from a distance and said, “He doesn’t seem like the Rocossov from the rumors. At least by appearance, he looks now like a seasoned warrior of many battles.”

Borokino pursed his lips, not answering.

Suddenly, he stepped forward two paces and shouted, “Aleksei Konstantinovich!”

————

Wang Zhong now no longer reacted slowly when hearing his own name.

Looking up in confusion, he saw a colonel he did not recognize at all.

Shit, he thought, who the hell are you?

But he quickly realized that looking at an ally from an overview perspective would display a name, so he decisively switched to remember the name and then switched back.

"Borokino Aleksandrovich, hello!”

"I heard you did a good job this time!” the other side said.

Wang Zhong’s expression darkened.

If this were the past, Wang Zhong would definitely have started to strut and show off by now.

But now, he could not feel happy at all when he heard the praise.

He thought of the soldiers who had sacrificed themselves in battle.

He said: “It’s not good enough. I didn’t do well enough. You see, Aleksandrovich, take a look at my troops, so few have returned, and they are all wounded. I did not do well enough.”

The man across from him was taken aback: “Ah? Uh… you are Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky, right?”

Wang Zhong just nodded.

The man was completely baffled: “Uh… it’s already enough! After all, you’ve broken through and held your ground all alone, it’s enough!”

Wang Zhong just nodded his head and passed by the “acquaintance” with his troops.

————

Borokino looked at Rocossov and then at the military chaplain.

The chaplain said, “He really seems to be blaming himself, thinking he didn’t fight well enough. So this is the kind of person Count Rocossov is…”

Borokino stroked his cheek: “Something’s not right, definitely not right.”

At that moment, the regimental staff officer emerged from the command bunker, reminding, “We should report to the rear the passage of Count Rocossov’s unit through our defense area.”

"Oh yes, report it quickly. I need to make a phone call.”

————

Wang Zhong’s troops had just arrived on the outskirts of Bogdanovka when a jeep pulled up in front of the unit and brought the entire contingent to a halt.

A major with a staff badge jumped off the vehicle and asked loudly, “Are you the Third Rear Amur Group?”

Yegorov stepped forward, “Yes, what’s the matter?”

The major nodded, “Duke Vostrom has ordered that we arrange lodging and provide meals and medical supplies for you. The houses have been cleared out, and the food is ready. Follow me.”

The soldiers, who had just been holding themselves up with forced pride, immediately let out cheers of genuine relief.

Twenty minutes later, Wang Zhong’s soldiers and the wounded were settled in a school, and the hospital reopened its doors.

Long tables and chairs were set up outside in the schoolyard, suggesting a makeshift dining area.

The exhausted soldiers rushed to the tables and sat down as soon as they heard the command to disperse.

Right next to the dining area was the “mess,” with rudimentary stoves made of stones and large campaign pots perched on top. A field cooking team, composed of young women from Bogdanovka, bustled about.

The girls, with their floral scarves and rolled-up sleeves, were busy beside the large pots.

Seeing the girls, the spirits of the weary soldiers lifted noticeably, and whistling and bowl tapping became quite a scene.

But the girls were too busy cooking to pay much attention to them, aside from the occasional smile.

Wang Zhong watched the group and thought to himself how quickly they were able to switch gears. Just last night, they were still immersed in the grief for their fallen comrades, and now, they were already flirting with the girls.

But perhaps it was the sight of the brutal battlefield that made them realize they might not make it back the next time, so they seized the chance to approach the girls while they could.

Who knows.

Wang Zhong didn’t intend to reprimand the surviving soldiers, instead, he stood by with a benevolent gaze.

Wait a moment, speaking of which, Ludmila seemed to have a nickname for me, indicating a relationship where we could address each other in such familiar terms—could she be my fiancée?

After so many days since his transmigration, Wang Zhong began to consider this possibility for the first time.

He needed to ask about it as soon as possible.

Just as Wang Zhong turned to look for Ludmila, another jeep drove into the school and stopped next to the major’s jeep that had directed them.

Two burly men in church military uniforms disembarked from the vehicle, their large caps adorned with blue stripes.

In the open-air dining area, a corporal was the first to spot the blue big caps and nudged his buddy, who was whistling at the girls, giving him a forceful shush.

The whistler looked around, annoyed, but upon seeing the blue caps, he immediately sat up straight, as if he’d seen a ghost.

The others curiously turned their heads, and then swiftly shut up, with some signaling to their comrades who were still focused on the girls.

The dining area became deathly quiet in an instant.

Everyone watched the two Tribunal Judges approach.

They came straight to Wang Zhong, saluted him, and asked, “Colonel Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky?”

Wang Zhong returned the salute, “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

"We’ve received reports that you were killed in action.”

"Then allow me to enlighten you about the road back from hell,” Wang Zhong replied calmly.

The battles Wang Zhong had been through could indeed be likened to hell, and he really had returned from it.

Of course, he had also truly died.

The Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky standing before them was, in the truest sense, a changed man, body and soul.

For a moment, Wang Zhong wondered if the Tribunal had sensed something amiss, to consider him some champion of the devil or the like.

After all, in a world where God could guide the Divine Arrow, the existence of demons wouldn’t be surprising, would it?

The Judge, who bore one more star on his shoulder than his companion, began to speak, “We received information from Sergei Nikolayevich Romanov that you were alive, and we’ve learned about your command up until reaching Upper Peniye.”

Wang Zhong’s first reaction was, “Who?”

Then he remembered that Sergei Nikolayevich Romanov was the “duke’s lady’s sweetheart” with whom he had exchanged trousers.

At the mountain front west of Upper Peniye, Captain Lubokov, overwhelmed by tension, mistook Wang Zhong for a Prussian and took a shot at him. Sergei’s head was injured, and he decided to stay put in the hospital, leaving Wang Zhong no choice but to send him back with the wounded in carts from his fellows.

Wang Zhong: “Is Captain Sergei alright?”

The Judge made a face of disgust, “He’s doing very well, ranting all day about us sending him to Ekaterinburg Fortress, apparently, some lady is waiting there for him.”

Wang Zhong frowned—the duke’s lady’s sweetheart, could that actually be true? Now the duchess was a widow, and he—

He shook his head, casting aside these thoughts.

Why bother about others? I, Wang Zhong, just need to figure out how to give the Prussians another thrashing.

Wang Zhong: “I have no connection with him. I hope to replenish my troops quickly. We’re still ready to fight.”

Apart from personnel, he also needed to restock on tanks and artillery, T34s preferred!

Hearing Wang Zhong’s words, the men of the Third Rear Amur Group all looked his way, their eyes sharp and expressions resolute, eager for another round of arm-wrestling with the Prussians.

The Judge scanned the crowd, took a breath to compose himself, and said, “Before that, we need to understand the battle near Upper Peniye. Would you be willing to join us for a while?”

That was when Yegorov stepped in, “Understanding the battle process isn’t the mission of the Tribunal, is it? You don’t handle military matters.”

"You are mistaken, Colonel Ivan Panzhelayevich Yegorov. The Army Group’s bishop wishes to understand the battle process; it’s just us he sent to fetch someone.”

"After all, the staff officers are swamped right now, as are the military chaplains and monks; only we are somewhat idle.”

The Judge cracked a smile that carried a hint of apology.