A few hours later, Altirustzkan convoys arrived at the base. Ilaina and I said our goodbyes to our close friends and comrades, then boarded a bus to the city of Kritchenburg to see what the situation was like and help people recover. To be safe, I had carefully hidden a small pistol for self-defense.
We packed enough canned food to survive for two to four days, a dozen first aid kits, and various medications into black metal suitcases to preserve them, then loaded them onto the bus. Ilaina and I quickly made our way back to the capital on the dusty, winding road. The steel gate of the military zone grew smaller and finally closed in the rearview mirror. Ahead of us, the morning sky was so gray. Not a single ray of sunlight touched the ground, making the road feel cold and hauntingly gloomy.
Arriving in the city, we were stunned to see the landscape had been almost completely leveled. Not a single building was intact. They had all collapsed and turned to rubble. The number of dead was astonishing. The wrecks of tanks and Kuznetskozhyan soldiers who had airdropped from planes littered the streets. Debris flew everywhere. The stench of death and decay was everywhere. The sky was covered with dark clouds and smoke. The refugees could only sit still, waiting for a humanitarian aid convoy to come and save their souls.
"It seems this place is more chaotic than you imagined, doesn't it?" Ilaina asked.
"Yeah. I thought everything was still under control, but this is alarming. There are still a lot of people trapped. We need to hurry. Remember to stay with me. Don't wander off, it's very dangerous." I worriedly held Ilaina's hand.
We ran to the Parliament building, which was now a temporary field hospital. It was packed with the wounded, and their cries and screams drowned out everything. Maggots and rats scurried everywhere, but no one had the energy to notice anymore. Some people who had died were not buried. Instead, their bodies were used as food for the poor. Even human flesh had become a luxury. The food in the garbage dumps and sewers had been picked clean a long time ago.
The work was exhausting: saving the people. When distributing food and necessities, we always faced small and large riots and were cursed by the people for our slow pace. We mostly drove Kamaz trucks to resupply ammunition to the armed security teams and food and water to the civilians, so we often had to confront criminal gangs.
The scenery was heavy and gray.
We passed by a military equipment and uniform factory, which reeked of a disgusting, foul, and burnt metallic smell. Despite that, this was where the blood and mud stains were washed off the uniforms of fallen soldiers before they were mended. The weapons were just rinsed to get rid of the metallic smell. The severe shortage to minimize war costs was getting worse.
Even the tanks we were using were from 1979. Most were rusty, outdated, and obsolete. Even a small hand grenade could cause significant damage to their explosive reactive armor. That's why the number of tanks shot down was so astronomically high. Most of the crews died from the explosion of the driver's compartment.
The fighter jets were not much better. Even though Altirustzkan had fairly modern planes, the pilots' skills were terribly poor. It was incredibly dangerous when you could die from the stupidity of your own military, not the enemy's.
The war would continue indefinitely in this arid and damned land. Peace would come, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. Peace was just a brief period of preparation for the next war. The hatred between Altirustzkan and Kuznetskozhyan had been etched deep for over a hundred years. The only way to end this hatred was to completely wipe out one of them.
Today, our squad was assigned the task of transporting food to supply the aid fronts that were suffering losses.
I walked out of the room after changing into my uniform and quickly went to the base's warehouse. There were Ilaina, Mikhail, and Augusta. Behind them were Kamaz trucks full of 120mm mortars and artillery shells. I strode over and quickly said:
"Is everyone here? Are we missing anyone? What about weapons?"
"Everyone is here. The weapons have been prepared thoroughly. Each of us will have an AK rifle and an RPG for self-defense."
"Good. Let's get on the road. The opposition will try their best to kill us. Don't let your guard down. The price is not cheap."
I got into the truck, started the engine, and checked everything. Ilaina opened the door, climbed in, and sat in the passenger seat. Immediately, she complained:
"Oh my God, the smell of metal and gasoline is so strong. I'm going to die."
Seeing this, I took out a medical mask and gave it to her.
"Wear this. You'll feel better. We'll have to drive about 100 kilometers, so it's going to be tough. Mikhail, let's go. Remember to stay in line."
"So we have to go to the front lines again. And get shot again. Just yesterday we were put through hell and back. Now we have to go again. Fucking hell." Mikhail muttered.
Augusta nudged Mikhail's elbow, laughed, and said:
"This time, be careful. I can't keep saving you."
Ilaina also chimed in on the conversation.
"There, your wife is reminding you. Next time, don't make Augusta have to rush out. Save yourself."
The transport convoy began its journey. The four of us passed through bustling cities and quiet villages that were so peaceful and beautiful. There were lush green forests and clear rivers. The natural scenery was so fresh and dreamy. The convoy did not stop but continued on. As we went further, the landscape gradually became darker and more tragic, with smoke rising from fierce fronts and towns that had been turned into battlefields.
The Kamaz truck arrived at Outpost 86, where the previous units had sent people to the neighborhoods day and night, only to have more than half of their forces wiped out by the bandits. Every sweep resulted in deaths, and the burnt-out tanks and helicopters were piled up into a large hill. In addition, they had to contend with constant mortar attacks from the bandits. The number of refugees here had reached the thousands.
Seeing our relief trucks, the refugees and soldiers at Outpost 86 ran toward us excitedly, frantically grabbing the goods. They looked even thinner and sicker than us. Their eyes were dark and hollow, and their hands and feet were full of bulging veins. Their clothes were smeared with dust and smelled of burnt smoke and the sharp, disgusting odor of blood. I gave them a few boxes of canned food and water, along with AK rifles and ammunition for the soldiers so they could fight the gangsters.
Mikhail and a few other soldiers carried the goods into the rotting and dilapidated outpost. Inside, there were mainly scattered bullet casings and glass fragments. Quite a lot of moss had grown. Cleaning this place would take a lot of time. We stored the mortar rounds in the warehouse and used a tarpaulin to camouflage them to avoid enemy shelling.
While we were busy carrying the goods, our team was suddenly hit by heavy mortar fire from the hill. A large mortar round suddenly landed in the field in front of the outpost, blowing a large area of ground into the air. A huge fire erupted, and the ground shook continuously. Ilaina and everyone quickly evacuated into the main building. Everyone frantically lay prone and crouched down to avoid being hit by shrapnel. Immediately after, countless mortar shells rained down. In a short while, the plain in front of us was torn to shreds. Fortunately, our convoy was not badly damaged.
I let out some vulgar curses as usual.
"Fuck. I didn't expect us to get such a warm welcome from some high-class guests. Ilaina, did you detect anything? Where's the specific firing position? Can you locate it?"
Ilaina immediately replied while clutching my hand:
"No, I can't. They are really smart. They immediately change their position so the UAV can't detect them. They're also very good at camouflage, leaving no traces. Even thermal cameras have a hard time picking them up."
To quickly avoid the next round of attacks, the rest of us and I immediately left Outpost 86, heading straight for Outpost 92 after the shelling stopped. The people who stayed behind nodded as a farewell, then returned to a state of combat and began to return fire.
We continued on until we reached Outpost 92. As before, we transported the goods, handed over weapons and food, and left. Fog and gunpowder smoke hung up to our chests in the grassy fields. The moonlight shone down. Soldiers walked in groups on the road. The steel helmets glistened faintly under the moonlight. The heads of men and the barrels of guns emerged from the silver-white fog, bobbing heads and swaying gun barrels.
Going further, the fog ended. From the heads, the figures of the soldiers gradually became clearer... first their jackets, then their pants, then their boots emerged one by one from the mist like they were rising from a milky pond. They walked in a long line. The group advanced, the figures forming a wedge shape. We could no longer distinguish individuals, only a dark wedge moving forward, bizarrely followed by the heads and gun barrels that continuously swam out of the pond of fog. An army... not human beings.
Light cannons and ammunition carts ran on a crossroad. The horses' backs glistened in the moonlight. They moved so beautifully and gracefully, their heads shaking. From a distance, you could still see their eyes sparkling. The cannons and carts glided through the hazy landscape. The soldiers wearing steel helmets on horseback looked no different from knights of old. The whole scene had a heartbreaking beauty.
My group headed toward the engineers' material depot. Some of them carried curved, pointed iron bars on their shoulders. The others carried straight iron bars through coils of barbed wire. Hauling these things was both heavy and uncomfortable.
The searchlights began to sweep across the dark sky. The sweeping beams were like giant, ever-thinner stage lights. One searchlight stood still and just trembled slightly.
Our mission was only a small part done. The road was still long. That evening, we all stayed at a cliff. Everyone prepared and maintained their gear for tomorrow in case of an enemy counterattack. Ilaina and Augusta cooked and washed clothes. My subordinate Mikhail and I looked for ingredients and equipment to patch the bullet dents on the vehicle and find ingredients for a lavish dinner.
No one was idle. We finished our work after 9 p.m. Despite this, we still had a luxurious dinner no less than a restaurant's. We made the beef, eggs, vegetables, and broth ourselves. It was indeed a lot of effort just to have dinner. The four of us drank our fill, not forgetting to make some vulgar and violent jokes.