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There were no emergency repair cars on the train’s head, and the anti-aircraft cannon mounted on the anti-aircraft car had been replaced with a 25mm gun.

Following the anti-aircraft car, as was customary, was a line of black tank cars, though the first car had the church’s sun emblem painted on its top.

The car marked with the sun emblem had noticeably fewer people inside, and Wang Zhong, adjusting his angle, saw through the doors of the tank car, now open, an office desk within.

It seemed that the distinguished guest they were to receive was in this car, while the people in the following tank cars were likely reinforcements being sent to Bogdanovka.

As a brigade-level unit, the Rocossov combat group was about to be assigned a Military Bishop, primarily responsible for managing a large number of Priests and for presiding over more significant Masses.

Of course, what Wang Zhong valued most was the Bishop’s role in communication with the church, and he had already decided that once the Bishop arrived, he would cry poverty to him every day until the Divine Arrow Company was at full strength.

When Wang Zhong switched back to his original perspective, he could already hear the train’s whistle.

The train slid slowly onto the platform.

A solidly built officer in the church’s military uniform, draped in an Imperial Guard rain cloak, stood in the wide-open doorway of the church car, hands on hips, watching Wang Zhong and his group.

Seeing this man, Wang Zhong did not know why, but he felt like marching up to him and saying, “You son of a bitch, you’re my Bishop?”

The train had not yet come to a complete stop when the Bishop jumped down and strode towards Wang Zhong and his party.

Wang Zhong had intended to meet the man, but the unloading of other cars had started, and a large group of young men in khaki uniforms and boat-shaped caps began to disembark, immediately drawing his attention.

By this time, the Bishop had already approached Wang Zhong: “It’s been a long time, Aleksei Konstantinovich.”

Wang Zhong, originally turning his head to watch the new soldiers disembark, immediately focused back upon hearing this form of address, a chill running down his spine. What did it mean, have we met before?

The other party had not introduced himself, so he was definitely someone Wang Zhong knew. However, Wang Zhong had only seen the other’s name in command orders and could not even have remembered it without switching to an overhead view—it was Nikolai Nikanorovich Popov.

Thankfully, it seemed their relationship was not close, and Wang Zhong had never been so grateful for the complex Slavic naming conventions.

So he also referred to Popov by his name and patronymic: “It’s been a long time, Nikolai Nikanorovich.”

Popov examined Wang Zhong carefully: “You seem like a different person, Aleksei Konstantinovich, quite unlike how you seemed when you graduated.”

Wang Zhong laughed: “You jest, I am still the same, maybe just with a bit more of the battlefield’s aura about me.”

"I thought you might say the aura of hell,” Popov said.

It appeared that the Tribunal had already reported that line, “Then I can introduce you to the road back from hell.”

Popov went on, “Before I came here, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince sought me out to ask me to take good care of his dear brother. I promised His Highness, so I will use these eyes to see if your command skills truly are as reported in the telegrams.”

Dammit, Wang Zhong thought, what kind of embellished tales has the Duke of Vostok been telling upstairs?

“`

Lucky for me I had cheats and a wealth of war game experience, or you would have seriously screwed me over!

Wang Zhong: “You won’t be disappointed. Oh, I noticed you’re already wearing the Imperial Guard cloak, so does that mean the Third— the Thirty-first Imperial Guard Infantry Regiment’s equipment is also on this train?”

He almost gave the wrong number.

Popov released Wang Zhong’s hand and shook his head, “No, this is a memento from my time in the Guards Infantry Regiment. Your supplies are on the next train. This train, I’ve brought the Thirty-first Regiment’s Guard flag and reinforcements.”

As Popov said this, several Judges with blue caps came down from the train, followed by three Priests, one carrying a rolled-up flag, another holding the Double-headed Eagle emblem, and a third carrying a box.

Just as Wang Zhong was about to receive the flag, Popov held him back: “The flag must be presented in a ceremony before I can give it to you. These three are special clergy from the Grand Patriarch of St. Ye Katerina Fortress.”

Wang Zhong frowned: “Do we really need to go through this kind of formalism?”

"Trust me, it’s very helpful for the troops’ morale,” Popov said.

Yegorov then said, “But what we’re absolutely not short of is morale, we lack everything but morale.”

The Judges behind Popov immediately gave Yegorov a sharp look.

Sergeant Grigori returned the look with an equally piercing gaze.

Just then, a young man dressed in khaki military uniform ran up to Wang Zhong, snapped to attention, and saluted: “Major General, the 535th Cadet Battalion has assembled.”

Wang Zhong frowned: “Cadet battalion? Which cadet battalion?”

"From the Pokachi Infantry School and Artillery School, Major General,” the young man reported, holding his head high.

Wang Zhong then noticed that his shoulder straps bore no insignia, only a border, which is the mark of a military school student.

"What a mess!” He immediately turned to Popov, “These men will all be officers after some time of training, how can you assign them to front-line units as reinforcements just like that?”

Yegorov also agreed, “According to regulations, the Imperial Guard is supposed to be replenished with veterans returning from recovery, what’s going on with assigning us new recruits?”

Pavlov interjected, “You’re the one causing trouble, the war hasn’t even been going on for half a month yet, where are the veterans returning from recovery? Look, the Major General is just slightly wounded, he just finished dealing with the pus!”

These words made Wang Zhong’s shoulder start to feel phantom pain. He was reminded of the day before, when he cleansed the wound with alcohol during dressing changes.

At this moment, a young man stepped forward from the ranks of the academy, loudly saying: “Report! We have received comprehensive training, our military skills are much better than average recruits!”

Wang Zhong pushed aside the student in front of him and walked over to the reporting student, “It’s not that we doubt your military skills, it’s that you should be playing a greater role. How much longer until you complete your studies?”

"One year, Major General! But, Mother Ante is calling!”

All of Wang Zhong’s words were choked back by this statement, “Mother Ante is calling.”

He turned to Popov, “Are there really no other units left? What about the people called up by the total mobilization?”

"They’re in training,” Popov answered, “and those who are already reserves have their own units which are now heading to the front line in formation. I think it’s more efficient than disbanding them to reinforce units that have taken casualties on the front. The Reserve Army believes that the first batch of inexperienced adults conscripted in October will complete their basic training by the end of the year.”

“`

Wang Zhong: “The penal battalion?”

Popov: “How could we possibly assign a penal battalion to reinforce the Imperial Guard? Aleksei Konstantinovich, you’d better consider how to use your miraculous command skills to help them survive the war as much as possible.”

Wang Zhong frowned, always feeling that Popov was being sarcastic.

However, Popov did have a point—if he commanded with more finesse, perhaps a majority of these young men could survive their first battle.

He turned to ask the cadet unit commander: “How many of you are there?”

“1,200, General sir,” the commander replied.

Yegorov muttered under his breath, “Not even enough for a full regiment.”

Pavlov glared at him.

Yegorov immediately raised his hand in a gesture of surrender: “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up. You’re the regimental staff officer, you’re the boss.”

In fact, as the Guards Regiment Commander and a colonel, Yegorov held a slightly higher rank.

Wang Zhong ignored these two old foes; he walked to the far right of the cadet ranks and ordered, “Everyone, take out paper and pen and write down your full name!”

Although everyone was puzzled, they obeyed the order.

Starting from the first row on the right, Wang Zhong collected the slips of paper and read the names aloud:

"Alexey Nikolayevich Melekhov!”

“…”

After Wang Zhong had read a few names, the young man who previously shouted about his mother calling out asked, “General, are you really going to read all 1,200 names at once?”

Wang Zhong: “Yes, that’s the only way I can remember all your names and match them with your faces.”

His statement instantly caused whispers to spread among the young men.

The same “mother calling” cadet shouted again, “That’s impossible to do! Why waste the time?”

Wang Zhong: “I can do it.”

Even if he couldn’t, he could rely on a temporary trick to help, but Wang Zhong swore that he would gradually associate all their faces with their names.

As for the reason—

Wang Zhong: “Most of you will die within the first hour, maybe even the first half hour of combat. I can’t guarantee to bring all of you back alive, but I can at least remember your names and faces.”

He approached the “mother calling” cadet, took the slip from his hand, and read out loud, “Vasily Alexandrovich Leonov!”

"Here!” Vasily responded loudly.

Wang Zhong: “I’ve remembered you, I promise.”

Vasily held his head high, as if it were something to be proud of.

Just as Wang Zhong was about to move on, Vasily spoke again, “General, they say you destroyed 20 enemy tanks at Peniye, is that true?”

Wang Zhong corrected him indifferently, “It was eight. And nearly my entire crew died, with the only surviving driver suffering a leg injury, now lying in the hospital.”

This statement excited all the cadets: “One against eight!”

"Didn’t they say the Prussians had superior armor?”

"Looks like they’re not so tough after all!”

Wang Zhong’s eyebrows knitted together as he raised his voice, “The Prussians are very strong! Underestimating them will cost you dearly! Many of them are veterans who have fought in numerous wars!”

The young men fell silent, looking at Wang Zhong with seriousness.

"Let’s continue.”

With that, he started collecting the slips of paper from the young men again.

Sergeant Grigori appeared with a wooden box from somewhere, following Wang Zhong, allowing him to place the slips inside.

Moments later, Wang Zhong read the last slip and put it into the box, saying to the Sergeant, “Seal this well and keep it in my quarters where I can see it at any time.”

The Sergeant nodded.

Just then, the train transporting the young students started moving, slowly leaving the platform, while on the opposite platform the train carrying the wounded had already left earlier.

Only the grievously wounded who had been given up for treatment remained on the platform, while the station staff were washing away the bloodstains with water. The bloody water flowed down the cement platform, staining the concrete and the roadbed stones below a deep red.

Seeing the scene, Wang Zhong was struck with an idea: “Attention, everyone! About face!”

The 1,200 reinforcements turned to face the opposite platform, which was drenched in blood.

The sight of blood quieted even the rowdiest cadet.

All but one.

Vasily asked in confusion, “Why are those wounded soldiers left there?”

Wang Zhong: “Their injuries are too severe, and it’s not worth using medicine to try to save them. In a while, they will be carried to the local church and handed over to the Priest.”

Silence hung over all the young faces.

Wang Zhong: “This is your first lesson from war, students.”