Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Last Loyalty

  Restless youth is spent in dull silence, and the uneventful days are enough to drive one nearly mad. In the midst of a terrifying war where danger lurks everywhere, yet in the endless days, an inexplicable unease arises, just as the desolation of time makes one's heart feel like it's being cut with a knife, and the dull days are tasteless and dry.

  Dreaming that one day I accidentally stick my head out and get shot, saying goodbye to the dull life of hiding in trenches, bidding farewell to the listless years. Every day someone gets shot by a sniper, every day there's artillery fire and smoke, but I'm still alive, only gradually realizing that life really has no hope, nobody knows how long this standoff will last...

  In the dull days, life is dull and unremarkable. In the long and tedious years, it's empty and tasteless. When we welcomed new things, we found ourselves isolated from the world for a long time. Seeing the soldiers who came over from the East Line, we felt like seeing our relatives. We thought they were here to accompany us to sleep in the artillery cave and squat in the trenches, but it turned out that's not the case at all.

  The boring days ended from that time, and the earth shook more often. Those heavy trucks that could pull over 10 tons, one after another, like a long snake, transported supplies to the rear. In the rear wartime warehouses, boxes upon boxes of supplies were stored, making us all feel itchy. After inquiring, we learned that our lives would likely improve soon because the great German Empire had completed its war mobilization. Countless factories joined the war production effort, and countless cars joined the logistics transportation...

  Then, cigarettes began to appear in our lives, although they could only be hidden in secret places for a few puffs, fearing that this would trigger the other side's artillery fire, and then there was an intense artillery battle, with shells flying everywhere that could wipe out us poor infantrymen at any time. So it was still hard to get through the days, but life had hope, after all we could write letters, and have a change of taste for three meals, even if it was just swapping one canned food for another.

  Moreover, at that time, some older soldiers who had served for a longer period of time began to boast, saying that in their experience, all this was the result of the General Headquarters adjusting its strategic focus. Stockpiling large quantities of supplies behind the front lines must be preparing for an even larger-scale war. The Western Front would soon witness one of the most brutal battles in history, and we would also have the possibility of launching a counterattack on the enemy's position, that is, being hit by the enemy's firepower. Of course, all this was just speculation, but no one expected that these boastful remarks would become a reality.

  The Fifth Army Corps is extremely powerful, and the one that William II attaches the most importance to. They have been strengthened as never before, which also indirectly confirms that previous speculation must be true.

  On the morning of February 21, 1916, our revered artillerymen unleashed the most violent roar since the start of the war with over a thousand large-caliber guns on a front 40 kilometers wide. The gigantic cannonade was almost deafening, and the dust raised by the initial blast filled the sky. The massive shockwaves bent tree trunks and made leaves and branches rustle, but couldn't conceal the fear in our hearts. This massive artillery preparation only meant that our attack was imminent.

  "This god of war, the cannon, must have been created by God himself. We mere mortals can only tremble with fear under its intimidation..." Our company commander was describing the unprecedented artillery bombardment in this way, but we didn't quite catch what he said afterwards, as the deafening sound of explosions filled the air, and the thunderous booms from the shells hitting the enemy's position were almost like someone pounding us, a feeling that can only be described as "five thunders striking the top".

  Fortunately, the ones who launched the attack were the veterans of the Fifth Army Group. They were the real brave warriors who had experienced numerous bloody battles. We could only watch their attack from a distance in the rear, advancing towards an enemy position that was bombed into a potato field. "Our regiment walked in, rather than attacking...", I can only say that I admire the luck of the Fifth Army Group to the utmost. They were able to occupy the enemy's first line of defense on foot with the help of artillery, creating another model for artillery attack. The dense and effective artillery fire made infantry a mere decoration.

  The second and third lines of defense, these defensive lines composed of field fortifications, after being swept away like fallen leaves by the autumn wind, for the five elite divisions of the Fifth Army Group that were good at fighting, the remaining defeated soldiers didn't pose any difficulty whatsoever. Even the French whores were as excited as if they had been fucked, but could only stare blankly as all the field defensive lines fell to us.

  When we all wished that the officers would shout slogans and let us join the battle group to continue expanding our victory, but who would have thought that the Fifth Army Group, which was attacking, suddenly stopped its attack and turned to build a large-scale defense line. Machine guns, mortars, steel-reinforced bunkers... everything that could be thought of and done was required by the officers to be built. Those responsible for logistics transportation were also working like crazy to send us a large amount of supplies and ammunition, enough for us to use for nearly two years according to past standards. And yet, they still wanted us to prepare for defense? This made us very curious.

  "Carry out orders, absolutely carry out orders", this is our only choice on the battlefield. The entire Western Front began to frantically build fortifications overnight, and it seemed like we, the German-Italian army, were at a disadvantage and had to defend passively. We spent two or three months in constant doubt and execution of orders, until we started chatting and gossiping in the trenches with nothing to do, and when we were bored, we would watch how the brothers of the Fifth Army slaughtered the French in their futile counterattacks. Those damned Frenchmen always had endless people to die, attacking day and night without rest. This tactic of adding fuel to the fire only earned them a large number of casualties, I don't think they gained anything else.

  We soon experienced the ruthlessness of the French artillery, who finally deceived us with over a million corpses at Verdun. They and the British launched a large-scale counterattack on the Somme River, while we were foolishly watching the scenery here for a long time. Especially they broke our artillery record on the Somme River, both in terms of shell firing speed and total amount, breaking the record set by our artillery at the beginning of the Verdun battle. What's even more frightening is that they also have a certain number of long-range howitzers...

  Before we could even prepare to support the Somme River direction, those French people who refused to die again carried out their tactic of adding oil to the fire, launching a desperate charge against us with a crowd as numerous as ants, once not succeeding and coming again, until the Fifth Army Corps finally couldn't withstand it and some troops were rotated in to replace us, putting us on top to hold our ground. At that time, we were all wondering why these French whores had become even more crazy than before? Had they taken drugs or something?

  It wasn't until later that I realized it was the British pigs who made our navy lose its strategic advantage. The German Navy won a tactical victory in the Battle of Jutland, but failed to gain the initiative strategically. So they started to blockade us systematically and step by step. I guess from now on we can no longer see large quantities of delicious Chinese sweets on the market, replaced by monotonous canned food. What I hate most is mashed potatoes, eating it continuously for a month will drive people crazy.

  "Like steel rods standing upright on the battlefield, blocking the French and British devils' attack. Even if the British and French whores win, it will be on our corpses... Facing the swarming French army, we have no choice but to muster even greater courage to deliver a resolute blow and resistance. We also wish that our brothers on the other side of the Somme River must hold on, otherwise, if there is even one breach in the front line, what awaits us will inevitably be defeat."

  "Indeed, my numb career as a killer began on that day, no one knows which day it was. I learned to use machine guns to sweep and torture the enemy, creating pain like using a broom; My marksmanship improved, and in my spare time, I could quietly guard the battlefield alone, letting the not-yet-dead enemies cry out louder, so I would occasionally add another shot to let them die slowly in their wails..."

  Never has an enemy breached our lines, although under the intense bombardment of the enemy's artillery and the filling of corpses, our terrain slowly became disadvantageous. However, in the frenzied slaughter, we possessed powerful firepower, enough to turn living people into human skewers. When fiercely sweeping across the enemy with your machine gun, there would be someone beside you supplying ammunition at all times, maintaining two spare drums ready for use. One drum contained seventy-five bullets, which might not last long, but those seventy-five bullets could exert a usage value far beyond their actual worth. A single bullet could make a precious life disappear; life is so precious, yet that bullet was not even worth as much as a loaf of bread. Nevertheless, it took the enemy's life, truly getting its money's worth.

  What people fear most is not losing money, family or career, but losing themselves.

  When we are all lost in the confusion of torturing life, when we are all trapped in the struggle of human nature and fall into sin, when we are all driven mad by the questioning of our conscience, we become real sinners. The commanders often have to shout "cease fire" many times, because some people who have already fallen into numbness are still pulling the trigger, especially those who control the heavy machine guns, which are still pouring out a rain of bullets, but there is no one left on the battlefield.

  Why bother? Why do we keep asking ourselves, but it's not as good as putting down the gun and smoking a cigarette to feel better. In the hazy smoke, we can only feel a little peace. The thunder of gunfire and the turbulent air have long lost their meaning to us, unless this shell is going to hurt us, otherwise, we're too lazy to move.

  I know that in many places, there are many people who are just like us. Perhaps our enemies have it a bit better. They send off batch after batch of comrades, and when they fail to attack, they return to their quarters with only a few people missing at most. But they leave the dead here with us, emitting wave after wave of foul odor that constantly reminds us that this is a battlefield where one can die at any moment, and if we're not careful, we'll end up like them, lying on the ground in all sorts of shapes, perhaps with our limbs and torso not even as neatly arranged as others.

  It wasn't long before the French army stopped their foolish attacks, they didn't continue to launch fierce offensives against us. It was only then that we realized that on the other side of the Somme River, they hadn't gained anything good, our brothers had given them a warm welcome with machine gun bullets and dense artillery fire. Perhaps it was time for them to make defensive preparations, and for us to turn from being passive to taking the initiative. But we were very grateful to those who had ordered us to prepare our defenses earlier. If we had foolishly tried to expand our gains back then, I reckon we would now be souls lost under machine gun fire. Fortunately, we had made good defensive preparations, and after withstanding the peak attack of the British and French armies, they suffered heavy losses and entered a period of weakness. But we still had plenty of energy left, the killing machines were already unaccustomed to days without bloodshed.

  And at that time, I heard that the British used a mobile bunker on the battlefield, which was a combination of a tractor and a gun tower. It really scared the brothers on the other side of the Somme River, as bullets hitting it would only make a loud noise without penetrating, but instead sparking bright sparks. The monster, emitting black smoke, led the infantry to attack them, but they were not invincible. Cannons of certain calibers could still blast it into scrap metal, and when encountering trenches, they couldn't get past... This made those guys on the other side jump in surprise and then watch a lot of jokes.

  It's hard to say we're lucky, anyway, our Verdun side never encountered that monster tractor, but even if we did, we wouldn't be afraid, we have to prepare for a counterattack.

  Fate won't always favor one person, her time and energy are limited, and she also has to strive for fairness to everyone, which means my good luck has come to an end.

  The tentative attack on the French army's position at Verdun ended in failure, they also had a very strong firepower defense, we could only be targets one by one when we rushed up, maybe I was a bit smaller and became a smaller target, but still couldn't escape being shot.

  When Italy, Ottoman Empire, Bulgaria and Austria-Hungary dropped out or defected to the Allies one after another, our German Empire became a lone warrior. The Battle of Verdun, which was originally intended to be a stalemate, had to change. The Supreme Command decided to give the Allies a heavy blow to decide the outcome of the war. Therefore, whether we are facing steel fortresses or human flesh, we must enter Paris at the fastest speed to gain strategic advantages and force the Allies to surrender.

  So, we were mobilized to launch the first all-out counterattack. This unexpected counterattack was very effective, as it had always been them attacking us, and now a big turnaround made them unaccustomed to it. When we achieved good results, bad news arrived. As a low-ranking soldier, even though I had already "promoted" to second lieutenant after sending off hundreds of new recruits to become corpses, the information on the battlefield was not smooth. It wasn't until the damn Americans joined the Allied Powers that we knew they had launched a campaign against us.

  But the soldiers of the German Empire were good at it, whether it was the Second Battle of the Marne with American participation or the Saint-Mihiel offensive launched by the Americans alone. The seasoned warriors gave the American Expeditionary Force, composed of a group of young and inexperienced soldiers, a heavy price to pay to prove that this war was not child's play. Little did they know that we were once like them, full of passion and thinking that we were invincible on the battlefield, and that all it took was a quick turn to win medals and victory, only to end up with the most reckless ones dying the worst deaths.

  Laughing and joking about yesterday's news, we still have to make good preparations for our own battles.

  In mid-November 1919, our army launched the largest-scale full-line counterattack since the start of the war on the Western Front, also known as the third offensive action. With sufficient preparation, we once attacked to a place just over twenty kilometers away from Paris, and even many people saw the towering Eiffel Tower, I was one of them, but this battle had to end in defeat, because even someone like me who is favored by God was wounded in the left arm, almost losing it, and those who were more unlucky than me were even more miserable. In this offensive, I lost tens of thousands of people, and my division was also dispersed. I thought there would still be a chance to rebuild, but I had to be reorganized into the Fifth Army Corps.

  In early 1920, in order to connect the two salients of Amiens and Marne River, we launched a crazy attack on Paris again, which was also our fourth offensive. However, facing the well-prepared US, British and French armies, we still ended up with nothing. We "won" another defeat, but fortunately, I didn't get injured this time, not even a scratch.

  In February 1920, the fifth offensive arrived, and this time I felt bad from the start. In fact, the scale of this offensive was even larger, but our losses were even more severe. After looking for a long time, I didn't see even the shadow of an iron tower, and instead, during the retreat, my left arm was disabled by a sniper's bullet. When defending the Xingdenburg line, I no longer qualified as a main force soldier and could only choose to return to the rear to train soldiers with my experience and verbal abuse. It was clear that at this time, the soldiers who were recruited were no longer as crazy as they were when I enlisted. The families who received the recruitment orders were no longer celebrating together but crying bitterly.

  Women, children and the weak have all entered the factories to engage in production work. We can recruit very few soldiers, so they are extremely precious. The war is tense, so we must intensify training and strive to get the new recruits onto the battlefield as soon as possible. After several baptisms of fire, eliminate those who should be eliminated, and leave behind a group of old soldiers to continue helping Wilhelm II achieve his grand ambitions in spring and autumn, and make the efforts that they should have made for their own past cheers and applause. Of course, all this is just futile effort!

  April 9, 1920, when I received the order to stop training new recruits, I knew that this damn war was over. The formal signing of the Compiègne Armistice Agreement announced the official surrender of the German army and also announced my official unemployment. Back in my hometown, which had become close to the front line due to the defeat of our troops, my home had long since been reduced to ruins. If the armistice agreement hadn't been signed early, I reckon this wooden hut would have taken even more shells, not a single plank would be left, and our fields would have become another bloody battlefield...

  Of course, all of this is now meaningless. The war has ended and Germany, along with the rest of the world, will usher in a new era, but in the days to come I, alone, may not even be able to eat disgusting canned food, I am destined to become one of the countless dead in this war, an insignificant small person, destined to be forgotten by history.

  ………

  Karl finished writing the last few words, threw away the pen in his hand, and slowly rolled up the papers, silently putting them into his bag. Originally, he still wanted to write a bit more, such as some words that were still in his mind, but with the sun about to dip below the horizon and bring the last rays of sunset, Karl needed to worry about tonight's food and lodging.

  After searching for the best place, Karl finally found a corner that could block the wind and rain. He took out the last half can of food and spoon from his backpack and placed it on the ground. Leaning against the wall in the corner, he pulled up his legs and tightly closed the can, then let his trembling right hand carefully scoop out the food at the bottom of the can with a spoon, which was his hope for survival tonight...

  After a "perfect" last supper, Karl curled up in the corner, quietly watching the sun that was about to set, and the golden clouds beside it, and farther away, some small cloud clusters were slowly moving, lonely and lost.

  The cloud's departure was the wind's urging, or perhaps it was human neglect. After the last rays of sunlight faded away, the earth slowly turned gray and murky. As night approached, the earth also slowly began to blow with wind, Karl curled up even more tightly, and he too gradually closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

  The wind has picked up, and the cool evening breeze blows gently across the land. The small grass that was once green is now a dull black in the darkening night sky. The gentle breeze also disperses the pungent smell of gunpowder in the air, and a faint mist of smoke begins to drift slowly over the ruined village, flying over the scarred battlefield, lingering in the air for a long time, yearning for the master who brought them to this battlefield. Now their bodies have quietly rotted and sunk into the earth, and tens of thousands of war spirits wander with the wind, how can they find the master's soul, and return home together?

  "War gives birth to heroes, creates miracles and honor; war brings destruction, builds disappointment and sorrow..."

  History is always verified repeatedly, but history will not simply repeat itself. In the long river of history, war has never gone far and has never disappeared. It repeatedly engraves on the monument of history and repeatedly verifies a truth rather than a truth in human development history: soldiers are born for war, although war is cruel and inhumane, but soldiers are forever loyal.

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