Chapter 941 The Inevitable (Second Update, Please Subscribe)

heavy rain!

The heavy rain fell without any warning.

In fact, there were signs. Brazil entered the rainy season in December, and it was from this time that the battlefield finally became fair.

In the heavy rain, the Ming Dynasty's most powerful weapon - the airship, finally returned to their "nest". Even the artillery fire from the Ming Dynasty was not as fierce as before, because their artillery balloons could no longer take off to search and guide the artillery fire.

War is finally fair!

Of course, war is also unfair. As the attacking party, the officers and soldiers of the Ming Dynasty had to struggle on the muddy battlefield. The muddy battlefield slowed down their steps and turned them into targets in open areas.

It seems that Rio de Janeiro, as the "City of God", is really blessed by God!

Another day, another battle!

The battle ended in a fierce fight. Thousands of black slave soldiers were left on the first line of defense. Under the command of the white commander, they fought very tenaciously. No one tried to escape or retreat - to be precise, they couldn't escape at all. Behind them, the supervision team pointed guns at them, and anyone who retreated would be executed directly.

In order to survive, these black slave soldiers had to fight the Ming army with all their might, using their lives to protect the slave owners' world. Their sacrifice was not in vain, and they also made those powerful enemies pay a heavy price. Hundreds of soldiers' bodies were scattered on the open space in front of the position. Those dark green uniforms proved the identity of the soldiers. The officers and soldiers of the Imperial Army shed the same blood on this position.

In the trenches, the remains of the burning log walls were still emitting blue smoke. In the trenches, there were corpses everywhere, blue and green mixed together. These corpses were soaked in the muddy trenches. In the knee-deep mud, many rats were swimming there, and some rats were even lying on the corpses. In the trenches, the tired soldiers were smoking cigarettes. They were soaked and looked up at the sky. The sky was covered with dark clouds.

Maybe the sky was covered with smoke!

The soldiers thought so in their hearts as they stood quietly in the trenches. After a fierce battle, they successfully captured this position, but the price was heavy. The muddy water under their feet was not yellow, but red. It was dyed red by blood.

"Damn it!"

A soldier took a look at the corpse floating in the mud and water. Looking at the dark face with only the teeth white, he cursed hatefully.

"What a bunch of guys who are not good enough as slaves..."

The exhausted soldiers sat in the blood-soaked trenches, letting the rain fall on their bodies while they smoked. To them, this was just a break in the battle, and the attack would continue soon.

War is cruel, and the hail of bullets on the battlefield always takes many lives. When the soldiers are resting, the sergeants count the iron plates - the soldier's military identification tags, on which are written the unit number, the soldier's military identification number and blood type. If there are casualties in the battle, the rescue team can easily identify the blood type of the wounded and the name of the deceased based on the records on their identification tags, which can buy time for rapid rescue of the wounded and provide a basis for accurately identifying the bodies of the dead.

According to the requirements, all officers and soldiers must wear the ID card around their necks all day. When an officer or soldier is killed in action, his comrades will put one of the two ID cards into the deceased's mouth, and wrap the other card with the deceased's clothes for follow-up personnel to properly handle according to the records on the ID card.

The sergeants are now cleaning up the identity tags, which were taken from the fallen comrades. Before the fallen comrades are loaded onto cars and transported away, their identity information needs to be collected. A sergeant is registering their identity information there. Although there are only numbers, there will be dedicated personnel in the rear who will look up the registered identity information based on the numbers and then send out the death information.

While they were cleaning up the identity cards, the battalion and company commanders were doing what they least wanted to do - writing letters to the families of the fallen soldiers. This was their responsibility as commanders. Why did the commanders have to write in person?

This is not a formality, but a reminder to the officers that the fallen soldiers are living beings, they have families, parents, wives and children just like them, and their sacrifice is tantamount to a disaster for their families. No matter how high the pension is, it cannot make up for the pain of losing a loved one.

Such a reminder will make officers cherish the lives of soldiers and prevent them from wasting soldiers' lives on the battlefield for personal military merit. At least it is a reminder.

For any officer, every time this happens, they feel the heaviest. They have to recall the voices and faces of their comrades and their deaths... In the end, this letter written by the chief officer will be sent to the families of the fallen soldiers through military mail. Before that, the death notice has already been sent to them.

The process of sending death notices from the front line to the rear was not cumbersome. It only took two to three days for the information from the front to be sent to the Army Ministry in Yingtian. In the Military Service Department of the Army Ministry, dozens of female transcribers would write death notices with pens based on the information list. Although lead typewriters had already existed, death notices had to be handwritten according to requirements.

The written death notices will be put into envelopes and addressed only after they have been reviewed. As soon as the envelopes are put in, a courier will push a cart to carry the death notices one by one. In this way, hundreds of death notices are sent to the post office, where they are sorted into buildings and mailed to the local military service office. Finally, the office will send a special delivery to the door based on the corresponding information.

For the soldiers in the mobilization office, this seemingly simple task is always the most resistant one. After all, no one wants to deliver bad news, but it is always inevitable. In war, everyone needs to do their duty.

When the postman delivered the special package with the "Army Department Military Postmark", the Bingzhou Military Service Office fell into a terrible silence.

Everybody knows what that is.

It's a death notice. Lieutenant Shao Wuan from the Military Service Office looked at the mail bag, sighed, and then looked at his three colleagues in the office and said.

"Okay, let's follow the prescribed process!"

(End of this chapter)