The loud bugle pulls Georges Cyrion back to the real world, and the private, who was about to swallow the fragrant fried bacon in his dream, wiped his saliva, patted his cheek, and tightened his belt hard—hungry even more because of that damn dream. If you don't tighten your belt too hard, your stomach pouch may become a lump of intestines.

The officer's roar was coming along the traffic trench, intermingled with the whistling of the horsewhip and the wailing of someone, and judging by the position, it should be the position of Company B, and the neurotic commander of Lucien did not know which unlucky one to hold again. The mother goddess is on top, fortunately that bastard is not his own company commander, otherwise he would have nothing to do like the guys in B Company to figure out whether to commit suicide, or study how to shoot a black gun at the company commander in the back without going to a military court. You know, this month alone, two recruits have committed suicide by pulling grenades, and the mongrel company commander reacted by whipping the corpse into pieces with a horsewhip, yelling that "this coward should be tied up with straw rope and thrown to his parents".

The kicking, scolding, and various body odors of people dispelled the only remaining drowsiness, and the fully awakened Private Sirion began to enter the state, and began to check his Chasebo rifle together with his comrades in the trench, the gas-tight rubber gasket at the back of the rifle bolt will shrink and harden due to the gas action, and eventually lose its effect, so the gasket needs to be replaced frequently. However, compared to the dire firing pin of the Dressy firing pin gun equipped by the principality, it is still much more convenient. For soldiers on the battlefield with their heads pinned to their belts, the weapons in their hands are their only life support, and whenever they are free, they will carefully check and maintain their equipment.

After checking the condition of the weapon and confirming that there is no problem with the equipment, the roll call is routinely carried out. Sirion and his comrades lined up in a column, pulling the coat of the previous one with one hand, and holding the wall of the trench with the other hand, carefully along the communication trench into the first-line trench, replacing the F Company that had been stationed for a day and a night. At four o'clock in the morning, the sky was punctuated by blinding pillars of white light and the crimson glow of flares. The situation in the trench can be seen clearly without the help of lighting, and the possibility of getting lost is greatly reduced. On the other hand, the chance of being targeted by the Grim Reaper has also increased a lot.

Death is always on the battlefield, and the next second it can befall someone, whether he is a warrior or a coward, a general or a soldier. Here, in this frontier that clings to Siegfried's line, the Grim Reaper is especially fair, but also insanely cruel.

For example, a company joined by a friend had only 11 men removed in just half an hour after entering the forward trench for the first time. Three of them went insane, and the rest were all lightly wounded, and his best friend saved his life, but his legs were sawed off by the military doctor.

A certain captain, who was deeply loved by his subordinates, when inspecting the position, a "briefcase" entered the shelter where he was, and the entire underground bunker became a huge crater 30 meters deep.

Not only at the front, but even in the rear, which was considered safe, as Sirion himself witnessed three times, when entire trains laden with wounded soldiers or supplies were blown into the sky, and minced meat and charcoal rained down all over the station. For a whole week, he and his comrades couldn't eat any meat.

Some people may say that this is the battlefield, and death and killing are commonplace, and now they are afraid of it, is there any strange extravagant delusion about the battlefield before?

And they were right. It's just that if they say such things in front of Sirion, Sirion will definitely beat these guys unceremoniously, and then tell them loudly: "This is a world that you who have never experienced the battlefield, who have not experienced that hell, cannot imagine at all!"

That's right, this is the hell called "Battlefield", and on the other side is the physical invisible and untouchable Grim Reaper, and everyone who sees them is already lying in the mud with bullet holes. The mages and flying beasts in charge of reconnaissance in the sky have long since been banished to the safety of their dens and shiver, and the slightest carelessness in the underground shelters can invite "briefcases"—super-heavy shells that fly slowly enough to witness their aerial stance. If you think you can avoid the Grim Reaper's scythe by digging a tunnel 30 or even 50 meters underground, then those bombs that swoop down to attack the entrance of the tunnel will make you enjoy every second of horror and despair until you suffocate to death. In contrast, the guy who was attacked by the 420mm special incendiary bomb seemed to be a little lucky, the incendiary bomb with the delay fuse will go deep into the underground and then detonate, and the loaded celestial crystal will release a special technique to create a gas explosion - the miner-born Sirion is no stranger to this, and sometimes encounters all kinds of toxic gases when mining minerals, many of which will burn violently and even explode, at this time, even if there is a little spark, the canary in the cage will turn into a mass of char with the people in the pit before it has time to scream. And under the attack of 420mm special incendiary bombs, even if you don't die on the spot from the shock wave and firestorm, you will still report to the mother goddess for suffocation and poisoning. After being eliminated from 21 tunnels one after another, the above did not say anything, and in essence, they had completely given up the tunnel operation.

This is the Rhine Front, a hell where the Grim Reaper confronts the Siegfried Line, where death is open all day and where demons dwell everywhere.

If you want to survive here, you must always be on high alert, react correctly to the dangers that may arise at any time and place, and more importantly, whether the Grim Reaper and the demons are in a good or bad mood.

After handing over positions with his exhausted brothers from F Company, Sirion and the others walked cautiously on the planks, taking every step with great care, lest the sound of the damp planks (under which was the gutter) disturb the Grim Reaper in the air, the artillery spotters flying around in magical armor. Once they catch the attention of the Grim Reaper, the pointy-eared ghosts, who are never short of shells and bombs, will surely "entertain" them. Although the other side seems to be a little tired of this kind of thing lately, and no longer sends a few base shells as often as they did at the beginning, there are still light mortars that greet them. Charlemagne's GIs, who had already been psychologically shadowed, really didn't want to try that kind of horrific and bloody picture again, so no one complained about sneaking around like rats in their own trenches.

Finally entering the position, the soldiers quickly clinged to the trench, and before leaving, Sirion took a square pipe from his companion Private Björtte, fastened the newly issued fireman's Adrian steel helmet, and climbed the ladder at the edge of the trench, and after making sure that his head did not show the trench, and after arousing the sniper's curiosity, Sirion stretched the improvised periscope out of the trench.

The forward positions were originally set up for reconnaissance and sorties, and after repeated education by the defense forces, Charlemagne's army rarely took the initiative to attack, and the forward fortifications basically became observation posts. Without the dense crowd, the horrible cannons didn't seem to want to waste shells on a few creeps, so they turned around and repaired the sappers digging the tunnels, but this in no way meant that the forward fortifications were safe. In the front line of snipers and artillery observers, any careless move can lead to destruction, as for whether it is a cold shot from a sniper or a cannon fire, it depends purely on the individual creation and the mood of the ghost animals.

Sirion's luck is not bad, and neither the sniper nor the artilleryman seems to have much interest in this new recruit. Despite the help of searchlights, flares, and night vision gear, they did not miss the little periscope. But the Wehrmacht fighters really did not think about opening fire.

"Corporal, there's a change of guard on the other side. ”

"I saw it, Schroeder, at 4:30, they were on time. ”

Corporal Erich Maria Remarque of the 29th Reserve Infantry Regiment looked away from the eyepiece and quickly took a string through the hanging notepad to write and draw.

Corporal Dieter and Paul Schroeder were on duty at the G5 Observation Post, an armored fortification known as the Observer Fortress that exemplifies the stubborn personality of the elves. It consists of two armoured observation posts partially buried in the ground, revealing only the dome, and the sentinels hide behind 150mm thick armor to search for and determine the location of targets by means of observation slits and a liftable high-magnification periscope with night vision. Buried 10 meters underneath the post, there are reinforced concrete protected dormitories, air purifiers, running water, power distribution rooms, toilets, and access roads – so far there seems to be no problem. But just in case, and to allow the surplus supplies to be used, the designers actually placed the turret of a Leopard between the two armored observation posts, making it a de facto fire support point, and any soldier who wanted to get close to the observation post had to be prepared for direct fire.

As it turned out, the concerns of the elf designers were not unfounded. A few weeks ago, Charlemagne's army almost touched the G5 observation post with a regimental charge, and if it weren't for the desperate fighting of that turret and the timely arrival of fire support, the rampaging Charlemagne infantry would have torn an infantry platoon to shreds in the observation post - after losing so many comrades, Charlemagne had no interest or spare no effort to take prisoners, and it would have been a good ending if they were not tortured or left with a whole corpse. Eventually, Charlemagne retreated, a whole regiment of infantry, and only 78 men returned to their starting positions.

After that, the Charlemagnes did not have the strength to attack, the defense forces had no interest in attacking, and a fantastic situation began to emerge on the battlefield. Corporal Remarque, who has the temperament of a literary youth, finally breathes a sigh of relief, and observes his opponents curiously through the periscope to collect materials for his post-war creative projects.

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