My soldiers are all Fourth Calamities!

15. The twilight here is quiet...

Krasnov did not return to the location of the granary. Instead, he rode his horse leisurely towards the village. During this process, the player "AIR" raised his Mosin-Nagant and aimed it at Krasnov's head, who was riding on horseback.

But this action was quickly stopped by a hand, which steadily pressed down on the barrel of his gun. Looking in the direction of the hand, he saw the owner of the hand—Guo Ruhe.

Guo Ruhe shook his head at him, "It's not the right time yet. If the enemy hears the gunfire, their troops will quickly assemble here. It will be troublesome if they start fighting back. Don't cause trouble for Commander Rochester."

"We have a minimap, what are we afraid of? We have such a big advantage in close combat," AIR said, though he didn't quite understand, he still put down his Mosin-Nagant.

"There are still villagers in the village, and they also have a follow-up force. It would be very troublesome if they were exposed."

"Okay, okay."

Meanwhile, in Rochester.

When most of the red dots on the minimap were concentrated at the other end of the village, Rochester ran to the old man, Ilyich, and helped him up from the ground. "Don't be afraid, folks, we're from 'Redwitt's' team."

"I...I have no food."

"My friend, rest assured, we will not take a single needle or thread from the people," Rochester said, but to be more precise, he corrected himself, adding, "At least we, the 'Army of Benevolence,' will absolutely not take a single needle or thread from the people."

Rochester's words do need to be more precise. He does not deny the achievements of the new regime and its impact on the world, but he must admit that there were indeed a lot of bad policies during this period.

For example, the policy of surplus grain collection was originally intended to protect the fruits of victory, win internal and external wars, alleviate urban famine, and ensure the food supply for the army and workers.

However, its implementation has shown great harm and oppression to farmers, and even led to large-scale riots in some areas.

While Rochester couldn't guarantee how his other troops would behave, he was certain his own troops would never do such a thing, which was why Rochester would later need to reform the mindset of his troops.

However, Rochester didn't have much time to explain or say anything to his fellow countryman. Some stereotypes can't be resolved with words; the most important thing is to do something.

After Rochester settled the old man Ilitch in, he led the players toward the village. "Follow me, we're going to deal with those White bandits."

However, what Rochester never expected was that there was another group of troops in the village, a group from the "White Army"—they called themselves the "Redwitt Alliance," soldiers who were corrupting the new regime, and that was the problem.

The old man, Ilyich, wanted to help the general named Rochester, who had never fought in a war and was not particularly shrewd. He also did not understand the difference between the two armies.

Ilyich stepped out of the house again, not taking the main road, but instead taking a forest path known only to him, and hurriedly ran into the depths of the woods.

He crossed the ditch and passed through the woods.

He walked to a place with many buildings, and suddenly the blurry figures of several people appeared in front of him.

They were wearing the same uniforms as Krasnov; the uniforms of the two armies were so similar that Ilyich couldn't tell them apart.

"Who is it?" a muffled voice asked, its tone a mix of questioning and excitement, a excitement that frightened Ilyich.

"It's me..." Ilyich murmured, his whole body going limp and trembling.

"Who are you? What's the password? What are you doing running around like this?"

"My name is Ilyich, from the other side of the granary. I have something to say."

Several blurry figures looked at each other. They had specifically told the local residents to tell them any news, especially news from their "allies".

The "allies" they referred to were the "Red Witt" forces.

"What's the matter? Come with me to the officer! You go first..." someone shouted.

Ilyich, limping, hurriedly followed the soldiers inside.

They stopped at a makeshift camp covered with shelters. The escorts stepped forward, stood at the entrance to their command post, and pulled back the curtain with one hand. "Come in!"

A small lamp was lit in the window. They went inside.

Ilyich sneezed because of the smoke, and when he saw an Orthodox icon hanging in the command post, he hurriedly made the sign of the cross in the direction the icon was hanging.

"Sir, we've encountered an old man who wants to report something."

The officer they were referring to lifted his disheveled head, covered in down, from the table. Though still sleepy, he asked sternly, "Where are you going?"

Ilyich took a step forward and told everything.

"A bunch of White bandits just came to my house and took all the wheat to feed the horses! ...They even tried to play tricks on me...Their leader made me swear a sincere oath not to support you, and forced me to eat dirt!"

Did you say so?

"I didn't say anything, I didn't explain anything, and then your ally came, named Rochester."

"Well, our allies, the guys from the Redwitt Alliance, oh, and those damned White Army—" the White Army officer nodded repeatedly, feigning surprise, "So where are they now?"

"It's right there in the village, in front of my house. I came all the way here to report to you. Please go and help them as soon as possible!"

"Good! Good! Good!" The White Army officer sat up from the stool, smiled at the old man, lazily rolled up his coat sleeves, and shouted to the soldiers outside the door, "It should be Captain Krasnov. Go and send someone to help him. Oh, and bring his mute son with you too."

Upon hearing this, Ilyich was momentarily stunned, seemingly realizing something was amiss, but it was too late.

"What should we do with this old man?"

"Kill him, what else can we do?" the White Army general said cheerfully. Before Ilyich could utter a single word of pleading or explanation, a gun was already pressed against his temple, and he tapped it lightly. "Take him out."

Soon, two White Army soldiers dragged him to a place with a foul stench, in front of a pit containing corpses.

He wanted to say something more, but it was too late.

With a gunshot, he slumped limply into the ditch. The White Army officer walked over to Krasnov's mute son, patted him on the shoulder, and said, "Go, don't disappoint your father, show him your bravery!"

Krasnov's mute son nodded excitedly.

Krasnov may be a beast, but he is at least a decent father when it comes to his son—even though his son is mute, he still puts him in the army.

A mute child is practically considered useless in an ordinary farming family, likely to be bullied his entire life. But in the army, as long as his father is an officer, he can hold a gun, eat military rations, and be a superior person—he decided to pave a path for his son—even if that path is stained with blood.