By now, Gao Fei would not call the Wagner Group he'd seen a pack of stragglers, but it had little to do with an elite force either. He couldn't tell whether Wagner's reputation was pure hype, or whether Russians simply did things this sloppily.
According to Vartlev, Samir had started running before the order to board was even given, and he ran fast. He was carrying no less gear than anyone else, yet he ran ahead of them all.
Samir reached the rear of the first BMP-2, simply dropped the machine-gun ammunition he was carrying in his right hand, opened the vehicle's rear door one-handed, and, finding it empty, immediately tossed the belted ammunition box in his left hand inside.
He didn't rush to climb in himself. Samir looked as though he were picking up the ammunition box he had dropped on the ground, but he was really guarding the vehicle's door, keeping anyone from climbing aboard at random.
Waving one hand, Samir gestured for them to board and shouted, "Get on, get on, hurry, hurry!"
Samir kept his eyes fixed on where Gao Fei was. Once the fifth man had climbed in, he immediately put out a hand to stop the soldier about to follow and shouted, "Full up! Get on the one behind!"
Gao Fei ran last. He badly wanted to sprint faster, but this was exactly where the gap between a military enthusiast and a real soldier showed.
Running with dozens of jin of gear on his back was something Gao Fei had genuinely never trained for, not once, so even though he was young and strong, if you can't outrun them, you can't.
If a little military knowledge in your head were enough to outrun men who had trained for years, that would be truly absurd.
When Gao Fei finally arrived, Samir gave him a shove and then climbed in after him.
The BMP-2 infantry fighting vehicle has a crew of three and can carry seven more infantrymen, and armored vehicles in any country follow the same rule: whoever gets in first moves to the back and makes room for the men behind.
Good thing there were three vehicles. If only one had come, thirteen men couldn't all fit, and the rest would have to either walk on their own two legs or ride on the roof.
If a shell hits the vehicle, everyone inside is finished; but sitting on the roof, a single burst of bullets will kill you. That was the difference.
In short, moving fast always paid off.
Gao Fei wanted to thank Samir, but everyone in the vehicle could speak English, so after thinking it over he kept quiet.
The vehicle started up quickly. The interior was cramped to begin with, and with seven men packed in, all of them loaded with gear, it was truly hard even to turn around.
The air was foul, the jolting was bad, and there was no view outside. Add the smell of diesel, and before long Gao Fei actually began to feel carsick.
Control it. Hold it in. If he threw up, the embarrassment would be the least of it; being looked down on would be real trouble.
Enduring the misery of motion sickness, he rode on. After about half an hour the vehicle finally stopped, and someone outside shouted, "Get out! Move it!"
Gao Fei jumped down after Samir.
Had they finally reached the frontline?
Outside it was already light, but the sun had not fully risen. Farmland stretched in every direction, and ahead lay trench after trench. It was quite calm, with no gunfire; now and then an explosion sounded in the distance, but it didn't feel like much of a threat.
"Follow me, quickly!"
Vartlev called out and ran quickly toward the trench entrance.
The trench entrance was a ramp, fairly wide—about two meters across—and roughly two meters deep. The vehicle had parked almost directly facing it.
The dozen or so men followed the deputy company commander and scrambled in, strung out along the way.
Get into the trench fast; staying outside was dangerous. And once everyone was off, the vehicle left at once, not daring to linger for a moment.
They followed the trench for less than a hundred meters to a crossroads. Vartlev turned, and after a dozen or so meters another turn brought them into a stretch of trench roofed over with camouflage netting. Before long they came to a section covered with logs, earth heaped on top of the logs, but with both ends left open.
You couldn't really call it a bunker; it was just a stretch of trench with a roof over it. But this was the company command post.
"Commander, I've brought the new men back."
There were a dozen or more men in the command post. The covered trench was a dozen or so meters long and about three meters wide. Ammunition crates were stacked along both earthen walls, and in the middle ammunition boxes had been piled up to serve as tables.
A middle-aged man of about forty looked over Gao Fei and the others, then said, "Only this many? All right. Good work."
Gao Fei and the rest all crowded into the command post, which immediately made the already cramped trench feel crowded.
"Soldiers, from now on you're members of E Company, 4th Assault Detachment. I'm your company commander; you can call me Chip. Time is short, so I won't waste words. There's body armor here—put down what you're carrying, get the armor on, and fill your magazines."
Along the walls, besides ammunition crates, were stacks of body armor.
No wonder they hadn't been issued body armor before—it was only handed out once they reached the command post. But looking closely, Gao Fei found that all the body armor was secondhand; more of the vests were bloodstained than clean.
To put on body armor, you had to unload your gear. Gao Fei had to take everything off and pile it on the ground before going to get his armor, but Samir simply dropped what he was holding, went straight over—squeezing past the company commander—and got to the vests first, taking two.
Samir had dashed over to grab body armor, and he even rummaged through the pile and picked out a couple. Only when the company commander looked at him in astonishment did he pull out two vests and squeeze back.
There was plenty of body armor. No need to fight over it, surely?
And even setting that aside, the armor Samir brought back actually had bullet holes in it—both vests did!
Yet Gao Fei had clearly seen intact vests, and some that were even clean.
Samir handed Gao Fei a vest with a grave expression and said in a very low voice, "Two shells never land in the same crater, and a vest that already has a hole won't take a new one!"
Gao Fei looked at his vest. There was a bullet hole over the right chest, punched all the way through—both layers of the armor had been penetrated.
This vest had a soul ring on it—it had to!
The vest with the soul ring on it stank a little too, and the bloodstains on it had turned dark brown. But never mind the stink; if it had a soul ring, so be it. He hoped the vest's previous owner could protect him. That way, besides physical protection, the armor might provide some magical defense as well.
Body armor Samir had gone out of his way to grab—of course he was going to wear it.
Gao Fei finished putting it on, then began pressing loose rounds into his magazines one by one.
The whole journey had been so rushed that there hadn't even been time to load; only once they reached the forward position could they load their empty weapons.
While the new men were putting on their armor, the company commander said loudly, "I'll give you a quick rundown of the situation here. Less than five kilometers ahead is the city of Bakhmut. We're advancing step by step, and it's going well. The spot we're standing in now was the Ukrainians' forward position just a few days ago; now our forward position is two kilometers ahead."
Hearing this, Gao Fei knew things were bad.
Bakhmut was only five kilometers away, but the forward position was only three kilometers from the city. That meant that, for an urban assault, the battle had entered its most critical and bloodiest stage.
This was a fiercely contested forward position, and "fierce" meant fought over again and again—the kind where one side pushes forward today and the other takes the ground back tomorrow.
He had posed as a veteran precisely to avoid being cannon fodder, but on a battlefield fought over like this, everyone was cannon fodder.
"Don't worry. You'll be positioned on the main position, further back. Behind us there's also the reserve position of the 32nd Airborne Brigade, and you'll have the company mortars providing fire support at any time. Further back there are two heavy artillery regiments and a heavy rocket artillery battalion, all of which can bring heavy fire support down at a moment's notice. So our firepower is strong. Very strong."
The company commander was giving the newcomers a shot in the arm, so these new men wouldn't be scared out of their wits before they even reached the battlefield.
For Gao Fei this was indeed good news: rather than being stuck out at the forward position, they were being assigned to the main position. For that alone, posing as a veteran had been worth it.
"One more piece of good news. If you achieve something significant in combat, the reward is paid out immediately—cash, euros and dollars—and you don't have to wait for it to come with your monthly pay."
Not everyone who came to fight for the Wagner Group was in it for the money, but plenty certainly were. As soon as the commander finished speaking, Samir asked without a moment's hesitation, "Commander, how are the rewards calculated?"
"Once you're in position, your squad leader will explain it to you in detail."
Glancing at his watch, the commander went on, "Now, Second Lieutenant Vartlev will take you up to the forward position. Gentlemen, good luck!"
Vartlev clapped his hands and said, "Everyone follow me. Mind now—keep your spacing, stay close to the man in front. Let's move."
They passed through the command post, went along a stretch of trench covered with camouflage netting, and after a turn came into a communication trench with no cover overhead.
The column of thirteen strung out quite a bit. Samir slowed his pace, waited until Gao Fei came closer, and said quietly, "We've got to stay in the same place. We need to get into the same fighting group."
Gao Fei glanced up at the sky, then said quietly, "We'll deal with that when we get there. For now, keep away from me—stay more than five meters apart, and hang back a little."
Samir raised his eyebrows, a question in his eyes.
Gao Fei said, "Haven't you seen it online? There are drones everywhere now—who knows where you'll run into one. If you were a drone pilot, would you drop on a crowd or on a spot with fewer people?"
"Ah. Good point."
Samir said no more. He slowed down, and after Gao Fei had gone ahead, kept about ten meters between them.
If you're going to do a thing, do it thoroughly—that was a good habit of Samir's.
Chapter 6