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Page 224
Angelie and Shissian hitched a ride with Sindra to Pilsnitz, encountering similar burials and debris cleanup along the way. Of course, transporting the coffins and body bags containing their siblings to Dresden was also part of their journey.
The soldiers, still busy with their tasks, didn't have time to greet them. Only Syndra and Kan Hu silently led the two to the IS-2 tank that hadn't been moved yet, and to the already framed coffin.
"It's been nailed down so early?"
“Lieutenant Shishian, you’ve been in District 45 for so long, stop being so formal.” Syndra casually raised her nose. “Besides, as far as I know, the Expeditionary Force hasn’t seen anyone weeping over the remains of their fallen comrades in a long time.”
"That's not what I meant, I just wanted to..."
“Ah, right. After going through so many life-and-death situations, we should leave something behind as a memento.” Syndra sighed and took a cotton bag from Kan Hu’s hand. It was full of deformed bullets. “Choose one.”
“When we got here, all she had left were these clothes.” As he spoke, Kan Hu threw the blood-stained shovel from his shoulder in front of the tank, at the spot where Lilizia’s body had been found. “Do you know why this patch of ground looks like it’s been turned over? You need to understand how difficult it is to clean up a mess of intestines and entrails.”
Kan Hu and Angelina looked at each other, their faces expressionless, as if they only wanted to hear him speak quietly.
“I’ve seen far too many mutilated corpses on the battlefield, but this time…” Kan Hu took a deep breath, unsure whether it was out of indignation or disgust, “To be honest, I haven’t felt this bad in a long time. This is the first time I’ve had to put a body this rotten into such an exquisite coffin, and then wrap the pieces of flesh in a shroud to keep them from falling out… The worst part is, she was whipped to death with a gun.”
Xixi'an stared at the coffin for a long time, then looked at the scattered bloodstains on the ground.
"So, Sergeant, have you, or your subordinates, ever engaged in similar acts of venting anger before?"
“Obviously.” Syndra rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette. “We’re not from District 45.”
……
……
"We have lost many brave and outstanding comrades, but their sacrifice was not in vain."
"We will always remember their names, and may their spirits rest with the victory of the expeditionary force."
……
"30628th, 41st Army, Corporal Hilby Nord."
"Rank 30629, 41st Army, Lieutenant Colonel Eddie Hill Groen."
……
"Rank 298840, Black Prince Legion, Warrant Officer Grinna Smith."
"Rank 298841, Knights of Agincourt, Lieutenant Lilizia Lütjens."
……
"Rank 305498, 45th Army, Major Katrina Cooke."
"305499th, 45th Army, Colonel Gremay Carrie."
……
Under a sky overcast with dark clouds, the Knights of Agincourt, who were still resting at their encampment, received several more cold bodies ready for burial.
But as always, there was no crying or roaring; everyone gathered together in silent tribute out of respect. Of course, the absence of annoying air raids was also important.
Soldiers coming and going outside the camp, and even some civilians passing by, would glimpse the scene inside and sometimes stop and bow their heads slightly or honk their car horns as a sign of respect.
"Oh, Your Majesty, how many people will never see this again..." This sentence was clearly not something a normal person would say—after a long period of confinement, Griffin finally emerged from the dark room, looking dejected and unhappy.
"Oh, sorry." After walking a few steps, he bumped into a female soldier who was looking into the camp. "Oh, would you like to join the Knights? I can introduce you to them."
"Uh, you're with them too?" The female soldier looked him up and down in disbelief, seemingly not quite believing that he was wearing the knights' attire.
"Yeah, Agincourt, the famous ace, have you heard of him?!"
"The Knights' ace? I only remember a white-haired girl named Lütjens, who was incredibly powerful, I heard..." The female soldier scratched her head, the stark contrast causing Griffin's heart to plummet.
"Ugh, me, me! Griffin Zelil, hasn't anyone ever said anything to me? Lily was someone I trained!"
"Oh? Oh, oh, oh..." No matter how Griffin reacted, the female soldier still looked confused, and passersby seemed to be giving her strange looks—as if some clown had stolen the Knights' clothes and was putting on a show. "Well... I have to go now."
Embarrassment struck Griffin like a hammer, leaving him stunned and speechless. If it weren't for Angelie's voice nearby, he probably would have forgotten that he was supposed to return to his base.
……
“Sorry, I didn’t keep an eye on her.” Lieutenant Daimler, who was facing Angelie, was the one who had previously given the corgi to Lilizia to play with. “I…”
“You don’t need to blame yourself. After all, you and Michelin were the only ones who brought joy to her hospital room, weren’t you?” Angelie patted the pet dog in his arms, then raised her hands and handed him a handguard sword. “Keep this safe. Her medals were all taken by the Soviet army. Apart from that, this is the thing she cherishes most.”
“Well…” Daimler took it, his heart heavy, “Does anyone have any plans to erect a statue or something at the place where she died? After all, no matter what, she is a warrior known to all.”
“A short inscription in the memorial hall will suffice, maybe a portrait at most.” Angelie silently stroked the metal plate on the scabbard where Lily’s name was engraved. “If a person spends their entire life rejecting the approach of outsiders, they might also fear being worshipped as a monument after death…”
At that moment, Griffin came running over shouting, Angelina remained expressionless, and Daimler seemed to barely recognize who it was.
"Oh ho, you've brought Michelin out for fun again?"
He patted Daimler on the shoulder, but the latter seemed to be stunned and didn't know how to respond. He then made an excuse and left.
"Hey, why did you give Lily's sword to him? Could it be that..."
Angelina didn't bother to guess whether he was thinking something inappropriate again. Despite his persistent questioning, she simply gazed quietly into the distance at the burial site of the coffins.
"I'm asking you a question! What the hell happened here! Where did Lily go!" Griffin lost control, spitting at Angelie's face, then looked at the burial site and seemed to realize something.
"Lily? She...sacrificed herself?" Disbelief and terror began to crawl across his face like ants, and he began to shake his head frantically. "This can't be! What happened, Angeline?! Speak to me! Do you hear me?!"
"What kind of image do you think you project by shouting and yelling like that?"
“I want to know too! You understand?!” He grabbed Angelie by the collar and yelled even louder, “Why is everyone starting to treat me like this! Why!”
"Because someone like you shouldn't be living in District 45."
Before Griffin could understand what she meant, Angelie suddenly punched him in the stomach, followed by a slap that knocked him to the ground. The captain's hat rolled away like a startled monkey.
“Look at yourself, and think about why you were put in solitary confinement in the first place, you know?!” Like a powder keg that had been ignited, Angelina began to yell and berate Griffin while viciously kicking him—something she had never done before.
"You were a recruit who came to District 45 on the day you were put in solitary confinement, and now you've already earned a medal! Look at yourself, who are you trying to impress by putting on this high-and-mighty attitude?! This is the Knights! This is District 45, which the Expeditionary Force crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood! Do you still think you can put on this cynical, ridiculous act in front of everyone?!"
Griffin staggered to his feet—Angelina was serious, her face was covered in bruises, and she had even lost two teeth.
“I regret to inform you, Captain Zellier, that you are now a worthless wretch who will not pass the expeditionary force selection. The refuge rooms in the Berlin underground city are your place. Do not come looking for me or anyone else here.”
Gradually, some onlookers gathered. Angelie smoothed her hair, kicked Griffin's hat far away angrily, and stormed off alone, leaving everything behind.
"Are you alright, buddy?" A soldier helped Griffin up and noticed that he looked terrible.
"Yes, no need to help me, I can walk..."
"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into? Come on, let me get your hat back for you."
"No, thank you..." Griffin waved his hand, pushed the soldier's arm away, and dazedly picked up his hat.
It was even kicked out of shape, so I helplessly dusted it off and put it back on my head.
"I need some time alone, don't look for me, I'm fine..." Everyone looked at him, and he seemed to have suddenly fallen seriously ill. He covered his face and walked out of everyone's sight.
……
“I’ve seen a lot of people get angry, but this is the first time I’ve seen you get angry.”
On the other side, Xixi'an took Angelie to a corner and quietly stayed with her, letting her vent her last bit of anger.
"Hopefully he'll change something this time, hmm?"
As he spoke, his walkie-talkie rang.
"Lieutenant Angelina? Are you there? There's a Soviet colonel here who wants to 'chat' with our high command. What do you think we should do?"
Chapter 299, Section 387: Call Me the Invader
"Lieutenant, he's in here."
Where did you find him?
"In a Soviet-abandoned aid station, he was sitting alone by a hospital bed, applying vodka to his wounds... He seemed a bit off for a colonel, so what should we do, Lieutenant Angelie?"
"Looking for someone to chat with? Sisian, how much longer until Colonel Caronville gets here?"
"In less than half an hour."
"You go pick him up, I'll go meet him first."
……
This used to be a library's book storage room, connected to the outside world only by this door and the glass covered by curtains.
Now, the colonel, dressed in a Soviet military uniform, with his arm in a sling, his face covered by gauze, his peaked cap on his desk, and his slightly weak face constantly emitting a dizzying smell of tobacco.
Angelie almost fainted from the fumes when she entered. The whole room was fogged up like a boiler room, and she could hardly see the colonel's face—it was more torturous than the bloodshed on the battlefield, and it was no different from releasing poison gas.
"Blyat!"
The cigarette butt sparks in the smoke suddenly froze—the colonel was quite surprised; he never expected Angelie to actually curse in Russian while holding her nose.
"I knew it, your troops seem to be getting more and more exhausted as the fighting goes on." The colonel stubbed out his cigarette, looking at Angelie's disheveled appearance. "I wanted to see a high-ranking officer of similar rank, but he didn't show up for ages. As a result, Britannian officers are either dead or wounded, so all you can do is send a junior officer like me here?"
“Who comes is up to us,” Angeli continued in Russian as she hurried to open the window. “To be fair, the colonel’s actions are no different from those of a drug addict—locking himself in a sealed room or car, immersing himself in smoke. How can someone who is a regular at prisons and hospital beds be labeled a ‘Soviet soldier’ and treated like a prisoner of war?”
"You closed the windows, you watched the door, a soldier gave me the cigarette, and he lit the fire, so..." Seeing this, the colonel simply switched to his Siberian accent, "If one day you were imprisoned in a place like this, and poison gas wafted in instead of tobacco, do you think that's the treatment prisoners of war should receive?"
There was clearly an underlying meaning to those words. Angelie hesitated, pulling out a chair as she thought back to her surroundings: "I've looked through some vague documents and historical sites before. It seems the Germans in District 45 really did some heinous things?"
"Let's start with something light. Introduce yourself." The colonel waved his arm, clearing away the smoke. "Grodorov Andreyavich, born in Troitsk, outside Moscow. May I ask, young lady, what is your lineage?"
“My great-grandmother grew up in Murmansk, and I wish that name also existed on Soviet soil.”
“It’s a coincidence, a very coincidence. I thought you were as fair-skinned as the thin ice in the Bay of Kola.” Andreyavich smiled slightly and nodded. “But, as I asked your people before, isn’t Britannia a freak of nature stuck in the Americas?”
"A few years ago we conquered territory in the EU, which is roughly the same area as the Soviet Union on your map."
“That’s a real fake Russian,” the colonel chuckled. “Just like you, a fake Russian girl.”
“Me?” Angelie was both amused and exasperated.
"Blonde hair and blue eyes, you have it all, but there's one thing you're missing: compared to the Soviet female soldiers who can snipe with one gun, repair tanks when they break down, parachute out of planes, and swim through mud, you have delicate skin like a Tsar's baby who's waited on hand and foot. It's a pity that the scars on your face are covered by your sideburns, making it hard for anyone to notice."
"So you want to emphasize that you were 'captured' rather than 'recruited,' right?" It was just a little sarcasm, and Angelina didn't seem to care much.
“I don’t care about the process, I only care about the result. I’m very pleased that a feudal empire that believes in imperial autocracy still has a code of conduct for prisoners of war.” Andreyavich wanted to light another cigarette, but unfortunately he didn’t have a lighter, so he could only poke at the table randomly. “The last country that invaded the Soviet Union based on the lies of the ‘head of state’ was completely different in its brutality from your Britannia.”
"I'd like to hear the details." Angelie, as if expecting this, took out a pen and notebook from her person.
"Put it back. It can't be explained in just a few words. I just hope that your Britannia is a country that keeps itself clean and honest. Let me take your high-ranking officials to a few places and I'll tell you about them. That will be enough."
“I understand the logic; you certainly didn’t come here to tell me a story.”
“That’s right, girl. There’s a reason why I didn’t take my own life while I was with my comrades’ bodies.” The colonel paused meaningfully. “The dead can’t see the pain felt by the living, so I’m curious to know how those Soviet soldiers you captured were taken care of.”
“Except for those who were beyond saving, they are all living well in the prisoner-of-war camp now, and some of them even obey us.”
Before Angelie could finish speaking, the colonel's eyes became somewhat wary.
"I assure you, Mr. Andreyavich, our commanders will treat captured Britannian soldiers the same way the Soviet Union did. Of course, I understand that your country's own conditions may only allow for relatively better treatment, right?"
"You mean, as the side that lost to Britannia, we can find food other than potatoes in the prisoner-of-war camps you set up?"
“No, potatoes are still potatoes.” Angelie pursed her lips with a malicious grin. “It’s just that Siberian potatoes might be harder than the stubbornness of the Soviets, and our POW camp beds might be softer than mashed potatoes.”
"Stubborn, huh?" the colonel chuckled.
"Isn't that right? The Soviet Union was probably the most stubborn opponent Britannia had ever encountered, while the United States and Britain were trying to catch up."
"You're not suggesting we should be invaded by you, are you?" The colonel raised an eyebrow. "Yes, perhaps because of the material conditions, the beds in your POW camp are warmer than the bench I used to nap on in the command post, but does that negate the fact that you are the invaders?"
"When did we deny that we were invaders? Was there any need to deny it?" These words didn't stop her at all. Instead, Angelie clasped her hands in front of her chin, her face calm and sharp. "The war chariots have already driven under the hammer and sickle flag. Do you think we need to use the lie of coexistence and prosperity? At least, for the soldiers of this world, does such a lie have any practical meaning?"
“Not bad, you know I don’t fall for soft talk, so you’re not making up lies, huh?” Andreyavich laughed again.
“People should try to put themselves in others’ shoes.” Angelie raised her hand and wiped her knightly insignia. “Since you have long since labeled us as invaders, if your descendants ask about these things and you present them with an image of weakness and cowardice, do you think they will still want to learn about this history? Isn’t that an insult to the word ‘invader’?”
"So you're saying you're determined to fight us?"
"War is the most effective and violent cleanser in human history. Although it comes at a high cost, it leaves behind the good and eliminates the filth. So, you might wonder, what in this world we call Area 45 needs to be eliminated?"
"Oh dear, you're too late." The colonel clapped his hands and laughed heartily. "If you had come 30 years earlier, you could have joined us in eliminating the emperor, that synonym for autocracy and feudal corruption. But it doesn't matter, didn't you bring us another one?"
"We didn't bring armored cavalry or conscripted laborers, so your theory is invalid. On the contrary, as far as I know, while we were making phone calls at will, Soviet youths could only express their longing for their loved ones through letters; and while we were observing an African Britannian judge presiding over justice, not a single black person has been found among the bodies of American soldiers to this day."
"So this is the false guise you use to disguise your own aggression? How ridiculous."
“We are waiting for a qualitative change, a qualitative change from aggressor to conqueror.” Angeli slowly stood up, leaned down, and stared intently into the colonel’s eyes. “For the latter, I hope your world also has Alexander the Great who swept across the Persian Empire, and the Scipio family who buried Carthage; for the former, I think the Red Flag, which broke with Poland more than 20 years ago and with Finland 7 years ago, is quite suitable.”
……