Chapter 82 : Reversalism (3)

A few weeks later.

Somewhere on the frontline between the Navre Kingdom and the Helvetian Republic.

“Supplies are here!”

“Finally, food has arrived!!”

“Everyone, keep your order! Since we have plenty this time, no need to rush—the amount is enough!”

The soldiers cheered as a convoy of wagons rattled in from the rear.

As soon as the wagons stopped, the soldiers swarmed around and began unloading the cargo recklessly.

“How long has it been since we got food support like this? I thought we’d starve to death until now.”

“Who wouldn’t say that? It’s ridiculous that we can’t even raid and they don’t send us supplies.”

Though grumbling, the soldiers wore bright smiles on their faces.

War in this era still basically relied on supplies obtained through raiding, even if not as much as in olden times.

Besides essential things like gunpowder and bullets, it was common to supplement supplies by requisitioning locally.

But the nature of war has changed, making that impossible.

Everyone deploys huge armies at the frontlines, engaging in siege and defensive battles—there’s nowhere to raid.

“If we raid a village once, and then raid it again, the people will flee.”

For the Allein Kingdom’s army, which occupied Navre’s land through large-scale offensives, this is fine.

They can seize enemy supplies during their advance and requisition from occupied territories.

However, other countries were different.

Most of the time, the frontline barely changed despite repeated advances and retreats.

Since the area they occupied didn’t change, they suffered increasing shortages of supplies.

On top of that, the rotation of duties had stopped, and everyone was on the verge of exploding with dissatisfaction.

Then, at a timing like this, supplies arrived.

How could anyone not be happy?

“Alright, clothing goes to warehouse number 1. Food to warehouses 2 through 4! Ammo will be handed out later, so each take and store it properly!”

“Uh, Sergeant? What’s this? It looks like a book or something…”

“A book? Why would something like that be here?”

While sorting supplies by type, they suddenly found a stack of books.

Since these were items that didn’t seem to fit a battlefield, they asked the merchants and got this answer:

“Oh, those are gifts for the soldiers. Being on the frontline is boring with nothing to do, right? You can read these to pass the time when there’s no fighting.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll gratefully accept them.”

In a place where entertainment was limited to a chess-like board game and some old card games, there was no reason to refuse free new reading material.

Anything was better than endlessly repeating card games.

“Then, should we keep these just for the officers?”

“Do you think those rough officers would read such shabby books? Give them to the soldiers.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But just in case, set aside a few copies separately.”

The books handed over by the merchants were paperback editions.

They weren’t originally developed in this era, but Ishmael had requested a low-cost version to be made.

Because they were made as cheaply as possible for mass production and distribution, the quality was poor.

The paper was rough, and the text barely legible.

The covers were thick paper, not leather or cardboard like hardcover books.

Officers who indulged themselves at the frontline wouldn’t be interested in such low-quality items.

The Sergeant ordered to give them to the soldiers instead.

“How do you read this title?”

“‘Farewell, O Weapon’? That’s an unusual name.”

This kind of thing happened not only here but also on other frontlines.

Paperback books would arrive, and careless middle managers would hand them out to the soldiers.

But they didn’t know , what kind of side effects these seemingly harmless books would cause.

*****

“We are currently in such a tense state that we feel numb.

The tension is unbearable.

It feels as if a ruined sword is scraping down the spine.

My legs no longer obey me, and both hands tremble uncontrollably.

My body feels like a thin layer has been laid over madness, barely holding it back.”

“…..”

All eyes were fixed on the lips of the person reading aloud.

As the low voice read on, the gathered soldiers gradually reacted.

Some shed tears, others sniffled.

But no one made a loud noise.

Not wanting to disturb this precious moment.

“The newly arrived reinforcements are anemic young boys who need medical care.

Numbering in the thousands, they don’t even have the strength to carry their backpacks, yet they know their lives are at risk.

These boys know nothing about war; they just march forward only to be brutally shot down.

Shells, poisonous gas, magic, and cavalry trample and gnaw away at them, stealing their lives.

Dysentery, influenza, and typhoid choke and burn them, taking their lives.

In the end, the only places they reach are field hospitals or communal graves.”

A brutal story.

Just overhearing it was enough to feel anything but positive.

It depicts those who die caught in a massive current, without any respect for their human value or dignity.

Calmly, plainly.

Even while listening to this grim description, the soldiers empathized—nodding or clenching their teeth.

They compared the fate of the characters in the novel to their own.

“The screams continue endlessly.

Those screams are no longer human screams.

No person could scream so terribly.

Then Kachinski said, that’s the sound of horses wounded and crying out.

Some horses run far off then suddenly collapse, only to get up and run again.

Some horses’ bellies are torn open with intestines dangling and dragging.

Those horses fall, their intestines tangled in their legs, then get back up.”

Death, injury, vomiting of entrails.

A common sight whenever enemy bombardment hits.

The novel mentions war horses, but humans are no different.

If anything, humans are even more fragile—just a bullet can shatter the brain like mush or leave foul-smelling guts soaking the dirt.

It wouldn’t be strange if tomorrow it happened to oneself.

So many comrades have already died that way—why should I be an exception?

“Even if you escape the battlefield, you can’t escape hell.

We sit and cover our ears, but the terrible groans, cries, and screams pierce through from everywhere.

From all directions.

We are mostly people hardened to endure such things, but here, cold sweat drips down.

If you stand up and find a place where the screams don’t reach, you want to run anywhere, escape.”

Even if granted leave to save one’s life, or given rest in the rear, it’s meaningless.

The mind, already battered by war, can’t adjust to peace.

The screams of the fallen comrades and the unshakeable stench of death follow everywhere.

The extreme conditions far surpassing those of the Gulf War or Afghanistan permanently break a person.

“Damn, how will I live after discharge…”

“Will I even make it to discharge? What if I die first?”

“Will our country even send a death notice like the ones in that book?”

While the only literate soldier in the squad—who reads aloud—paused to take a sip of water, the others grumbled quietly.

Full of anxiety, fear, and despair about the future.

For now, they struggle daily just to survive.

But they can’t keep this up forever.

Most of them will probably die before finishing their service.

“I joined without knowing what it’d be like… what is this?”

“Did you volunteer? I was conscripted. I didn’t even get to choose to come here.”

Unlike the characters in the novel, they don’t even have dog tags, so their deaths might never be properly reported.

Their families back home won’t even be told—they will just end their lives as nothing but pieces of meat.

How tragic a fate this is — to vanish without anyone who knows you or mourns you.

“I don’t want to die.”

“I want to live. I want to go back home.”

“Why must I suffer like this, even if it means becoming a killer?”

Silent screams echoed.

Calmly, and yet desperately.

“Shall I continue then? We have all lost any sense of pity for one another. Even if we were to see someone else in the hunted eyes of another—”

“What the hell are you doing here?! Can’t you hurry back to the barracks?!”

“Stop your mischief and go get some sleep, you idiots!!”

The sudden shouting from the officers abruptly interrupted the reading session.

Yet a faint thought began to take root in the minds of the soldiers.

War is neither honorable nor glorious; it is nothing but a painful and cruel tragedy.

*****

“We must immediately stop the distribution of these books!”

“The problem isn’t just distribution. All copies already spread must be gathered and burned!!”

As expected, witnessing the controversy over these dangerously subversive books, nations erupted in chaos.

In a war that mobilizes the full might of a nation, talk of pacifism?

Refusing the fight for the greater cause?

Have you ever seen such a traitor!

“All Merchants who arbitrarily printed and distributed these books must be arrested. If possible, the author too!!”

“But if we arrest the suppliers responsible for military provisions, maintaining supply will…”

“It’s hard to stop those who’ve already read the books from spreading their content.”

“Strict crackdowns will suffice! Threaten to execute anyone spreading rumors!”

In a situation where internal conditions were worsening, such dangerous calls caused huge headaches.

If the army’s morale collapses, the front line will break.

The hateful enemy will seize our land and threaten the state itself.

It is best to swiftly eliminate any seeds that could bring such risks.

“A small sacrifice is acceptable. We must firmly control the soldiers!”

Following such judgments, many powerful figures demanded strict and severe measures.

Claiming it was the path for the nation’s survival.

“Oh, please calm down, Your Excellency. Is it really necessary to block it to that extent?”

“…And you are?”

Yet there were cases where this was not the path taken.

For example, Charles Delescluze, a bureaucrat of the Navre Kingdom and disciple of Ishmael.