Arc of Fire

Now the road was much wider, because the walls on either side had been blasted to pieces, and the houses behind the walls were half-collapsed, tattered and broken.

Wang Zhong looked back at Grigori, who was helping him carry the flag, “Is this the place?”

Grigori, “Yes, just go straight ahead.”

Wang Zhong walked a few steps forward, turned a corner, and saw a burned Prosen Tank, with a member of the Guardian Army collecting the weapons and ammunition of the dead Prosen soldiers beside the tank.

Next to the Guardian Army soldier was a mule cart piled high with ammunition and weapons.

Amidst a pile of Prosen bolt-action rifles, Wang Zhong spotted a few Tokarev semi-automatic rifles.

Bucephalus, as if sensing his intention, walked directly in front of the mule cart, allowing Wang Zhong to pick up one of the rifles.

The blood on the rifle’s body had already coagulated, and when Wang Zhong opened the chamber, he found it was nearly impossible to use because of the blood; the gun would jam if fired without a thorough cleaning.

The bayonet on the gun was very clean, perhaps its owner hadn’t had the chance to use it before sacrificing his life.

At that moment, the Guardian Army soldier collecting the equipment said, “General, the young man who was carrying this rifle has already been taken away, all of our boys have been taken away.”

Wang Zhong, “Where have they been taken to?”

“Over there to the stack area, it was originally meant for stacking fertilizers that were to be shipped out, but now it has become a huge morgue, a huge morgue!” The Guardian Army soldier probably hadn’t received much education and could only repeat the adjective “huge.”

Wang Zhong placed the rifle on the mule cart and said to Grigori, “Let’s go, take a look.”

After speaking, he gently kicked Bucephalus’s belly.

The horse stepped lightly, as if it did not want to disturb the silence encompassing the battlefield.

The stack area was not far away, just past the wreckage of seven Prosen Tanks.

Though it was called a stack area, it was actually just an open piece of land with weeds on it—it seemed more accurate to call it a meadow, as usual, reflecting the Ante Empire’s carefree nature.

Now, the meadow was filled with bodies dressed in khaki military uniforms.

Several old women, pushing a cart, were covering the young men with black cloths.

The leader was a nanny, who shook the bell in her hand while humming a requiem.

Soldiers from the 31st Guards Regiment gathered beside the stack area, watching the nanny bid farewell to their comrades. Perhaps because of the heat, they took shelter in the shadow of the neighboring chemical factory’s tall building.

The light of the setting sun crossed the already dilapidated building and fell upon the open stack area, coating everything with a layer of red.

The silhouettes of shadows seemed like the border between two worlds, the living gazing upon the dead.

Only the requiem echoed in the lonely scene.

Wang Zhong closed his eyes, recalling the faces of the young, the enemy had come too quickly, and he had not been able to match all of their faces with names.

But that did not prevent him from escorting them on their last journey.

Wang Zhong dismounted, glanced at the flag Grigori was holding aloft, then took out a notebook and pencil, and walked into the range of the setting sun, into the domain of the dead.

He came to the first body at the bottom right corner of the stack, loudly read out the young man’s name, and then wrote it down in the notebook with the pencil.

Thus he continued, slowly walking past each person, reading out each name, and recording it in the notebook.

The soldiers from 31st Regiment all stood up, silently watching him.

Wang Zhong did not know how many names he had read, he only knew that he wore down his pencil several times and had to stop to whittle it with a small knife before continuing.

Seeing his actions, the old lady silently asked the aunties to temporarily stop their work on covering with black cloth, and the chant of the requiem also paused.

The voices of the living echoed in this region dominated by death.

Wang Zhong suddenly stopped, gazed intently at the body before him, and with a heavy heart, he read out the name, “Aleksei Balfyonovich. May you reunite with the girl in heaven.”

The old lady made the sign of the cross over her chest and whispered, “Amen.”

Wang Zhong continued to record names until the shadow of the fertilizer factory completely engulfed the stacks.

He stood on the edge of the shadow and turned back to see the blood-like setting sun.

Unbeknownst to when it began, all the surviving soldiers of the 31st Regiment had already gathered at the edge of the stacks, watching Wang Zhong, watching their general.

Grigori held the flag, standing among them.

Wang Zhong walked towards the soldiers.

Perhaps because the scene was too solemn, no one used a command to break the silence.

Wang Zhong made his way to the people, “I promised to remember the names of all of you. But I haven’t managed to do so yet.”

The young soldiers watched Wang Zhong with pursed lips.

Wang Zhong lifted the notebook in his hand, “This notebook records the names of everyone who sacrificed today. Surely many more will join this notebook in the future.

“One day, when I become an Army Group or even a Front Army commander, the number of deaths will be so great that notebooks will hardly suffice to record them.

“But I promise, I remember every drop of blood shed for victory. Look at this flag!”

Wang Zhong gestured to Grigori.

The sergeant major stepped forward five paces to a position where everyone could see the flag in his hand.

Wang Zhong, “This flag was brought out by an old soldier named Rezenov. He sacrificed himself to rescue me when I was in trouble. To save me, many, many have sacrificed, their blood splattered on this flag.

“I hold this flag to remember those civilians who sacrificed themselves to save me.

“Now, I have decided to use dye, to thoroughly redden this flag, and it will represent all the soldiers who sacrificed today.

“It will represent every defender of the homeland who has fallen since the war began!

“Each one of us, upon seeing the red flag, will recall our sacrifices, remember the price we paid for victory!

“I think in this great war sweeping everything, in the early chaos, many did not leave their names before they died.

“This red flag will represent each one of them! We will never forget!”

Wang Zhong paused, looking at the faces of those as young as the dead.

Someone began to shout loudly, “We remember!”

The others joined in, “We remember!”

“We remember!”

“We remember!”

After the shouting in unison ended, Wang Zhong continued, “If one day, I too fall, this flag will bear the elegance of my bloodstained wind. Grigori! Go dye the flag, turn it to red at its base!”

Grigori took off running, leapt onto his horse, and disappeared in a flash.

“`

After watching the flag disappear, Wang Zhong looked again at the young people, “Vasily! Is Vasily here? Or has he been injured?”

Vasily: “Here! I’ve got your precious walkie-talkie, and it’s not broken! Don’t punish me!”

Wang Zhong: “I wasn’t going to punish you, or do you actually want to go shovel manure?”

“No, I don’t want to at all!”

Wang Zhong: “I heard your father is a music professor?”

“Yes.” Vasily looked somewhat displeased, it seemed he had a deep estrangement with his father.

Wang Zhong: “Then sing us something appropriate for this scene!”

“This… General, in such a situation?”

Wang Zhong: “What’s wrong? Can’t we sing at a time like this?”

“But, such a sorrowful scene…”

“Yes, such a sorrowful scene. But do the dead wish us to weep and wail? No, they want us to muster courage, to fight the enemy for them as well! They wish for us to give as good as we get, an eye for an eye, blood for blood!

“Sing! A song with vigor!”

Vasily furrowed his brow: “This…”

“Didn’t your father give you a musical education?” Wang Zhong asked with doubt.

Filippov yelled from the side: “Report!”

Wang Zhong: “Speak!”

“He did, General! His music is really good! He can even play the trumpet!”

Vasily glared fiercely at his so-called friend.

Wang Zhong: “So, you’ve had a good musical education and you say there’s no song suitable for this scene?”

“At least I’ve never learned one.”

Wang Zhong thought to himself that it was fortunate he knew such a song, but it was a pity he didn’t know how to adapt the lyrics into Ante language, afraid that singing it in Chinese would just confuse everyone.

But at this moment, he especially wanted to sing it because it was so fitting for the scene.

So he hummed a line, only to realize that obviously there was no translation, it was in Chinese.

Although it was very quiet, Vasily heard it—perhaps because he had a musician for a father, his ears were sharp.

“What’s this song? I’ve never heard it! I can’t understand the lyrics, but it feels like I can grasp the meaning with the melody!” Vasily asked curiously, “What is this, exactly?”

Wang Zhong suddenly had an idea.

He asked, “Have you studied composition?”

“Uh… I haven’t tried, but my dad has always forced me to learn music theory. I can give it a shot.”

At this moment, Wang Zhong’s mind became clear: Singing can’t be translated, but I can recite, and once recited, it’s translated. Then leave it to Vasily to worry about how to turn it into singable lyrics.

So he said, “Then take a look, put this tune to music, write it into a song!”

He turned his head to look at the piles of bodies, then began to recite:

The rolling smoke sings of heroes

Mountains all around listen with sideways ear, with sideways ear

The clear sky’s thunder strikes the golden drum

The mighty sea raises waves as harmony

People’s warriors chase away tigers and leopards

Sacrificing life, forgetting death to safeguard peace

Why is the battle flag beautiful as a painting

Heroes’ fresh blood has dyed her red

Why is the earth ever in spring

Heroes’ lives blossom fresh flowers!

Filippov’s mouth formed an O shape: “You’re a poet too?”

Vasily took his notebook and wrote down the words, read them silently again, and then critically said: “The rhymes are a bit off, I’ll need to make some adjustments. But it really has a spirit of sadness without sorrow!”

Nonsense, this is one of the immortal treasures of another time, my real homeland!

Wang Zhong patted Vasily’s shoulder: “I order you to survive, perfect it. Then set it to music.”

“I’ll try my best.” Vasily looked at the lyrics he’d written in his notebook, “These words… ‘Heroes’ fresh blood has dyed her red’… Did you think of this line after seeing the flag?”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

Wang Zhong was about to reply when the sound of engines came from the sky.

He quickly switched to an aerial view, only to discover the enemy’s reconnaissance plane flying high above.

This time Wang Zhong was very careful to confirm that this was indeed not a bomber equipped with Fritz X radio-guided bombs.

Vasily also looked up at the sky: “Damn the enemy, where on earth is our Air Force?”

No sooner had he spoken than something reflected the light of the setting sun in the sky.

A pair of Mig-3s appeared in formation!

The enemy’s reconnaissance plane immediately ejected interception fire, but the two Mig-3s deftly got to its six o’clock position.

After a short burst, the Do 215 reconnaissance plane’s left engine caught fire, and, trailing thick smoke, plunged toward the ground.

The Mig-3s followed the enemy plane as if to ensure its destruction, until it crashed.

Then the planes turned and roared past above the pile of corpses.

Despite just having shot down an enemy from thousands of meters in the air, the burly pilot did not close the glass canopy of the cockpit.

Wang Zhong recalled that only Italian pilots liked to fly with the cockpit canopy open, supposedly “to feel the breath of the wind.”

When the pilot saw clearly what was below, he raised his right hand in salute.

Some of the soldiers exclaimed, “He has six kill stars! He’s an Air Force ace!”

“Hurrah!”

There were cheers all around!

Only Vasily was still looking down at the “poem” Wang Zhong had just “written.”

“`