My soldiers are all Fourth Calamities!

08. An army of benevolence, an army of righteousness

The shells bounced off and crashed down on us.

Rochester instinctively crawled deeper into the crater, his left hand grabbing haphazardly to his side, trying to find something to cover himself with—planks, stones, tree roots.

The first thing my fingertips touched was a rough fabric, followed by something cool and soft.

He opened his eyes abruptly, trying to see what it was. By the light of the fire, Rochester could see what he was grabbing—a sleeve—an arm attached to a corpse.

At this moment, Rochester disregarded all principles and respect for the dead; in war, only the survivors could talk about the future.

He pulled the entire corpse down and covered himself with it.

The bombing lasted for an unknown period of time before finally stopping.

Rochester, still shaken, pushed aside the lifeless body and staggered out of the crater. The entire camp was in ruins, in complete chaos, with the air thick with the smell of gunpowder and burnt protein.

Not far away, a young soldier lay slumped by the trench, barely breathing. Rochester rushed over to check on his injuries.

His leg joint had been shot—shards of bone mixed with dark red flesh were rolled out, a gruesome sight—this young man would never be able to walk again.

Rochester untied the military water bottle from his waist and fed him the murky liquid. As the liquid slid down the soldier's throat, a sliver of light finally returned to his unfocused pupils.

Rochester discovered that the soldier's arm was also bleeding.

"Medic! Medic!" Rochester roared with all his might.

He frantically tore a strip of cloth from the soldier's trouser leg, trying to make a makeshift tourniquet.

"Medic! Medic!" Rochester continued shouting, then looked at the soldier, "I...I'll go get a stretcher, I'll go get bandages, I'll be right back!"

"Don't go..." The soldier suddenly grabbed his wrist with astonishing strength, actually managing to grab Rochester. "Don't leave me..."

"I'll go find a stretcher and be right back." Rochester tried to pry his hands off, but the young man clung to him like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood, whimpering and refusing to let go.

For a moment, Rochester wondered if the other man had gone deaf or was incapable of understanding his words. He began to sob like a child, the uninjured hand gripping Rochester tightly, "Don't go...don't go..."

Just then, a red figure broke through the smoke of battle.

A woman wearing a white nun's headscarf and a small red cap ran over.

Medical Nun?

Judging by her appearance alone, she has fair skin, delicate and soft features, and golden hair that peeks out slightly from the edge of her headscarf.

But judging from her physique, that's clearly not the case; that strong body... Battlefield Sister Noble.

Oops, no, no, right, right, no, no.

The nun skillfully bandaged his arm, then took out a scalpel and, without hesitation, plunged it into the rotten flesh, removing the shrapnel.

A piercing scream shattered the brief silence.

The piercing cries attracted the attention of some of the survivors.

"Commander Rochester, are you alright?" Golikov ran out of the smoke and dust, his face blackened.

"I'm fine." Rochester glanced one last time at the soldier who was being held down on the ground and groaning, a hint of pity flashing in his eyes, before turning away.

"It's good that you're alright, it's good that you're alright. Time is tight and the mission is heavy. The command post is very close to us. The people in their camp will take care of everything. You need to go to the command post immediately if the enemy launches a second round of artillery fire..."

The two men traversed a maze of trenches, amidst groans and stretchers.

As soon as they stepped out of the camp, they bumped into a group of staff officers and adjutants.

They were in a hurry, relaying orders all at once, all pointing to the same thing—how to find that damned artillery position.

The two did not stop, but quickened their pace. After passing through a forest, Rochester saw the firelight again.

"Commander Rochester, we've arrived."

......

......

......

at the same time.

the other side.

The Tsaritsyn Command, the remnants of the 3rd and 5th Ukrainian Armed Forces, merged with the newly formed division's southern front group command.

The city, which will one day be known as "Joseph," is unusually quiet in the night.

Joseph, dressed in power armor, ordered his men to bring him Georgian red wine, as he, being a Georgian, had a deep affection for his hometown's wine.

After finishing his second glass of red wine, Joseph went to bed early.

He was so concerned about the situation that he couldn't sleep. Although the dampness of the night made his cold worse, at one o'clock in the morning, he got out of bed again, blew his nose and went into the command room, loudly asking if the Western Army Group had launched an attack. After learning that no attack had been launched, he nodded in relief.

He had just nodded when the sound of hurried boots came from outside the door.

A telegram arrived from Zhytomyr-Dnieper, along with a representative of Army Group West and another man of Joseph's rank in the "Red Witt Alliance"—Lev Davidovich Trotsky.

Judging from his power armor and the two huge power hammers on his waist, it's not hard to tell that he is no ordinary person.

The man with a goatee handed the Kaifeng telegram to Joseph.

Trotsky and Joseph were two people who didn't get along.

Similarly, there is a great deal of conflict between the Western Army Group and Joseph, who recently had a quarrel in the Union capital.

Joseph submitted a formal proposal in the capital, requesting the establishment of a special investigative committee to find out the root causes of the chaos, the mistakes, and the responsible parties in the war between the "Redvet Alliance" and the "Vistula Federation".

The suggestion was opposed by everyone except Joseph—some had already prepared a scapegoat—of course, for Joseph—for them, truth and responsibility were not their concern at the moment.

The war strategy may be flawed, but the "Redwit Alliance," as a newly formed regime, cannot be recognized, as this would severely damage internal unity.

Joseph sat down with the two men who had come, opened the map on the table, and looked at the opened telegram. "You intercepted my telegram?" Joseph squinted at the document in the representative's hand.

"I just brought it along, Comrade Joseph," Trotsky continued. "Besides, I am also entitled to read this report from the Zhytomyr-Dnieper River."

Joseph took the telegram and quickly scanned it. It was written by Regiment Commander Sokolov, who had successfully garrisoned the Zhytomyr-Dnieper River and established a defensive line.

Besides this information, there was a report of a man named "Rochester" who had accomplished a great feat. The description was quite exaggerated: a force of more than twenty men successfully opened the enemy's cans and killed a "knight".

Joseph put down the telegram and let out a meaningful sigh.

"The situation is starting to tilt in our favor again." Trotsky walked to the map, his finger emphatically pointing at the defensive line. "Army Group West desperately needs reinforcements. I'm taking this guy named Rochester from the telegram. He can be of greater value to Army Group West."

Joseph's face darkened.

This is blatant poaching. The Western Army Group has suffered heavy casualties and urgently needs to be replaced with elite troops; while the Southern Army Group, as his core force, is relatively well-preserved.

Trotsky's apparent desire to recruit was essentially aimed at weakening Joseph's forces—after the war, the entire army could easily fall under the control of Army Group South, a situation that no one else wanted to see.

Joseph refused, naturally seeing through the other party's intentions. The entire Army Group South was a force he had built up himself, and most of its generals were his confidants. It was absolutely impossible for him to send troops there.

Furthermore, it was impossible for the commander named Rochester to relinquish his command. A company that could open cans—that required an incredibly high level of skill and a very capable commander to train such a unit.

With proper training and promotion, the strength of the Southern Army Group would be greatly enhanced.

"This war was doomed from the moment it began to be pushed back," Joseph said coldly. "During the initial offensive, we faced three things: first, Curzon's note; second, the ongoing uprisings in 'Britannia' and the 'Alemany Republic'; and third, the continued advance of Army Groups West and South."

Therefore, at the time, if we had accepted Curzon's suggestion, we would have risked giving the Vistula Federation and the imperialism of the entire world a chance to breathe.

But now, the situation is different; it's too late.

"That was the enemy's last stand," Trotsky retorted, his gaze piercing. "The Vistula Federation is on the verge of collapse; their main force has been crushed. I ask you, besides those outdated fears, what else do you see?"

"I see arrogance!" Joseph slammed his fist on the table and stood up. "You bastard! If we think the Vistulas on the front lines are finished, we are sorely mistaken. I'll say it again: we are not just fighting the Vistulas, but the entire Allied Powers from that war, which mobilized all the old powers, including the Alemanni Republic, the Habsburg Republic, and the Kingdom of Romania, and kept supplying the Vistulas with all sorts of provisions!"

Furthermore, let's not forget that they also have reserves, which have been deployed to the front lines. Their actions will undoubtedly become apparent in the coming days. They still have fighting, and it will be the fiercest fighting of all.

Most importantly, the arrogance and complacency that some people in our army exhibit are unrealistic and detrimental to the cause.

Some were not content with the victories at the front, shouting "Marching on Warsaw!"; others were not content with merely defending our alliance from enemy attacks, even arrogantly declaring that they would not rest until "Warsaw has changed color."

.........

At the same time, on the Zhytomyr front.

After successfully holding the line along the Zhytomyr-Dnieper River, Regiment Commander Sokolov heard about Rochester's glorious deeds of successfully holding the important trenches and opening several cans of food, so he sent him an order to report to headquarters.

While Joseph and his two "friends" were having a friendly discussion at the Tsaritsyn command post, Rochester straightened his filthy uniform and followed the messenger Golikov into the command post.

What makes this command post different from other places is its quietness. Despite being relatively close to the front lines, it is indeed quiet.

Its quietness is puzzling. Judging from what Rochester has experienced recently, the front lines are never peaceful. The front lines stretch so far that even remote logistical positions cannot be discussed.

The sounds of gunfire and the muffled roar of artillery fire constantly echoed in his ears. Since Rochester's arrival, he had never been to a place where he couldn't hear gunfire.

Only a small oil lamp illuminated the entire command post, maintaining a dim, half-lit atmosphere in the somewhat desolate room.

A burly man wearing somewhat rudimentary red power armor was standing in front of a table covered with a map.

Hearing the commotion outside, he looked up, his gaze first falling on Golikov, then shifting to Rochester behind him. When he saw the somewhat disheveled Rochester, Commander Sokolov frowned.

The messenger briefly recounted the shelling incident and gave a general account of the casualties on the position.

"I understand." Commander Sokolov looked the two men up and down, then dismissed Golikov.

After a moment of silence, Regiment Commander Sokolov lit a cigarette and said to Rochester, "Although I should let your troops rest and recuperate, the current situation is not optimistic."

"I can understand during wartime."

Sokolov nodded and said nothing more.

Half a minute later, many more generals came in from outside the door.

Two minutes later, everyone had arrived.

Sokolov introduced Rochester to the others, "This is Commander Rochester, from our regiment's independent anti-tank company."

The generals warmly extended their hands to Rochester, shook hands, and exchanged a few polite words.

Sokolov walked to the map, picked up his baton, and began to gesture on it. "We have built a strong fortified area by relying on Zhytomyr, an important railway and highway hub. Although the enemy has committed a large number of troops, their attempt to advance towards Kiev has been completely thwarted by the layers of resistance. The front is now in a stalemate, but a relatively stable situation has been formed."

"However, in the previous fierce fighting, our brother regiment formed a salient deep into enemy lines in the northern part of Zhytomyr (in the direction of Berdichev-Fastov). This salient has been noticed by the enemy. According to our latest intelligence, the Polish-Ukrainian forces will be deployed around this objective, intending to cut off and destroy the troops in the salient through a pincer movement."

"Remnants of the Tsarist regime have recently been spotted in the south, and we need to support our fraternal forces in the north, also to prevent us from being caught in a pincer movement."

"In addition, Budyonny's First Cavalry Army is assembling in the rear and will come to our aid as soon as the Southern Front Command gives the order. We must hold the line until they arrive."

"This is our plan," Commander Sokolov said, looking at Rochester. "Rochester..."

Rochester understood immediately. "So, should I go and support that brother unit? But I'm afraid..."

"Just tell me what difficulties you're facing."

Seeing that Sokolov had spoken up, Rochester also revealed his own thoughts, "I need another unit, and similarly, I want this unit to have its own designation and to obey my command. I've already decided on the designation: 'Righteousness.'"

Sokolov agreed to Rochester's request without hesitation.

After he agreed, Rochester's system panel suddenly lit up.

[Become the commander of two independent unit designations]

[Gained Reputation [1000]]

Current Reputation [650] → [1650]

Rochester was overjoyed upon seeing the message. A full 1000 reputation points meant that without changing the soldiers' equipment, he could recruit a full 100 men. This group would be enough to fulfill his previous plan: a force composed of players and another force composed of people from this world.

Rochester gave a crisp salute. "I'll get the job done."

Sokolov ordered everyone present, "Each of you send ten soldiers to assemble here, led by Rochester."

After issuing this order.

Sokolov also selected several generals to participate in this support mission, bringing the total force to less than a thousand men, including Rochester.

Given Sokolov's current military strength, this is the maximum number of troops he can muster.