Chapter 312 New Soldiers and the Front Line

In autumn, the weather is slightly cool.

It is not winter yet, but the coldness of autumn is often mixed with the cold wind that permeates all holes. When the autumn wind sweeps through the tall trees in the forest, their wide treetops are like a sudden snow, and the yellow leaves fall to the ground under the wind.

A thick layer is laid on the ground with the same yellow tone.

The recruits tightened their white military uniforms. Although they were a little old and torn, and there were traces of many mending on the clothes, he felt that this was the cleanest, neatest and warmest clothes he had ever worn.

He was assigned an iron rune sword, which was far less delicate than the fine steel swords used by the knights, but it could easily split firewood.

He imagined that this rune sword would fall on a person's body, and the armor and flesh would be cut together.

The sharpest felling axe the recruit had ever wielded was only this sharp, and the rune sword was not comparable to the felling axe when wielded.

He had heard that the soldiers who were conscripted to the front line were not even given weapons and equipment, and were asked to rush to the enemy to die. The recruit's eyes fell on the long sword erected in front of him, and the firewood that was completely split by the rune sword, and he felt more at ease.

The conscription started four months ago. At that time, the recruit and his parents were busy with summer sowing at home. The people in their village had been conscripted and only one in ten survived.

Many people directly gave up the summer harvest and fled their hometown with everything they had, or hid in the village. The recruit's family was very poor, and they couldn't let go of the summer harvest. The recruit's parents said: As long as this season's harvest is over, they will take him to seek refuge with distant relatives.

Now those knights have finally come to their home.

He was assigned to a team of veterans who had retired from the front line. The veteran had no arms, and he could even see a lot of burn marks on his body - the burn marks were like charcoal, condensed on the veteran's skin.

With him were some half-year-olds who were about the same age as him, and even the quartermaster despised them.

The quartermaster looked at this team of old, weak and disabled people and sent them to do miscellaneous work for the army logistics.

New recruits sometimes wonder about the situation on the front line, thinking of the stories of heroes who had made great achievements and were told by the bards in their hometown. Those legends on the battlefield wielded the magic weapons in the lake, rode the BMWs given by the king, and had unlimited protection to go in and out of the enemy's gun forest.

He asked the veteran, who always had a stern face, as if his facial nerves had scabbed like the scars on his body.

"You idiots, you are lucky to be able to do odd jobs here... The front line... That's not where you should go."

The old soldier looked at the front line every day and sighed from time to time.

Sometimes he would get some hay rolled up with paper from the quartermaster, he said it was called cigarettes. The quartermaster never neglected the old soldier with one arm.

It seemed that the yellow cigarettes made of hay could make him feel more comfortable. The burning of the yellow-brown hay was no different from the haystacks on the roadside being ignited by fire.

One would move, and the other would just burn quietly.

But both were very choking.

The new recruits didn't like the smell at all.

The firewood was collected in the backpack. After autumn, the camp would need more firewood every day. Those who were in charge of logistics had to take the firewood back quickly, otherwise the quartermaster's whip would fall on the bodies of these conscripted militiamen.

The quartermaster would not whip the old soldiers who managed these children, but he would not be soft when the whip fell on them.

The firewood was first supplied to the knights and the leaders with titles in the tent. If there was any left, some would be allocated to them.

The recruit carried the basket and hung the rune iron sword back on his waist. The firewood inside was almost full and he could not carry it.

He always brought the rune sword when he cut wood, and used the long sword instead of the axe to cut trees.

He thought that every time he swung the rune sword, he would treat the trees in front of him as enemies and imagine himself as enemies. He used all his strength in every cut, and let his body get familiar with the way of wielding the weapon while cutting wood.

It's just that there are fewer and fewer trees near the camp, and the distance that the recruits need to walk is getting longer and longer, but the quartermaster has never reduced the firewood collected from each logistics team - the time he can practice sword swinging casually like this is getting shorter and shorter.

The old soldier did not work with the "ghost" he called, but the recruits saw that he never lacked supplies every time he brought back, and the people in other logistics teams had already begun to complain that there was more water than rice in the meals.

Sometimes the recruits wanted to listen to the one-armed old soldier's stories, but the old soldier didn't tell them anything about fighting except occasionally talking to them. He only told them occasionally what kind of pit to hide in when escaping and when they could run.

But he didn't tell them how to fight.

After doing hard labor in the camp for a month, no matter what heroic ideas they had, they were replaced by heavy physical labor in the minds of the recruits.

He wanted to survive until the end of this war whose cause and enemy he did not know.

It was ridiculous that he had been drafted for two months but had not even seen the enemy.

Since the veterans in his team were unwilling to tell him anything, the new recruit could not suppress his curiosity. The new recruit would sneak away to find other veterans, and he would deliberately leave a bowl of unfinished porridge for them.

"There are neat green guys in their ranks who obey their commands, and a large number of trees that can move. Even the professional soldiers in the kingdom are crushed by those monster infantry..."

The infantry troops organized with ordinary rune weapons collapsed at the touch of their offensive.

Another veteran drank his porridge in one gulp and wiped his mouth.

"They have people like us, but everyone is a magician. The staffs in their hands are different from those of ordinary people...The weapons in their hands will emit dangerous light balls, causing all kinds of damage."

He paused and said in a low voice.

"Don't tell anyone. In order to prevent us from causing panic, the knight masters asked us soldiers who returned to keep quiet... There were many deaths on the front line. You look like you are a farmer at home."

"Those masters asked us to line up in rows, and the soldiers standing in front fell like wheat under a sickle... The stones thrown by the monsters were just like the stones we threw into the straw... The wizard masters said that they were an army controlled by demons."

The recruit thought of the scene when he used to playfully throw stones into the bushes, and the stones left a trace of crushing on the ground...

He spent a whole night, but he didn't understand the scene described by the veteran. Since the other side was so indestructible, how did they stop the advance of these enemies?

The new soldier kicked the pile of yellow leaves with his foot, revealing the moist and rotten soil. A large number of insects were hiding in the pile of dead leaves. Suddenly exposed to the light, they ran around in a hurry.

The insects exposed to the sun, the insects that lost their hiding places, the new soldier felt that he could easily crush them with his feet.

"This is the last batch of wood for today."

He put down the basket of firewood he was carrying. The one-armed veteran was still sitting outside the residence they were assigned to, with the firewood they collected today piled beside him.

"Um, captain, when will you go to the front line."

The one-armed veteran shook his head and looked at the ridge in the distance.

"In autumn... kid, do you know how you blocked them?"

The new soldier shook his head and suddenly remembered the insects he saw in the woods hiding under the yellow branches and leaves.

He raised his head and answered uncertainly.

"So, are they hiding in the woods?"

The old soldier nodded, and his rough face finally showed an ugly smile, but the old soldier's smile made the recruit's back cold.

He realized that the old soldier was not looking at the distance for nothing. The old soldier was looking at the long line that spread along the autumn wind, a yellow-green dividing line visible to the naked eye.

Autumn is here.

The leaves of the trees have fallen.

If they don't go to the front line, the front line will move closer to them.