A Song for the Fallen

It was still relatively early, and the logistics area buzzed with significantly more activity than during her previous visit, with people bustling around every building.

The unit’s quartermaster directed the porters to unload their burdens, piling the packages at the warehouse entrance, while groups of two or three overseers gathered in a corner, smoking.

Elsewhere, uniformed personnel meticulously opened the packages, extracting garments that were either pristine white as snow or faded and yellowed with age.

Lin Yu glanced down, verifying her own uniform, before her gaze drifted back towards the warehouse.

‘Why had they procured so many medic uniforms?’

If every package contained the same items, these porters had transported at least hundreds of medic uniforms — enough for Lin Yu and Nangong to wear for a lifetime.

Just as she was about to step forward and inquire, Lin Yu caught sight of the quartermaster’s back, still directing the unloading nearby, and suddenly found herself less inclined to know what was happening.

Only yesterday, when she had asked him for an extra bar of soap, she had endured half a day of suspicious glances; approaching him now would likely invite another round of peculiar stares.

Better to set aside her questions and await an opportune moment to seek answers from the Lieutenant Colonel.

Withdrawing her gaze, Lin Yu turned towards the most distinctive building in the logistics area, where she happened upon a man humming a tune as he watered flowers.

Two four-pointed stars adorned his collar, signifying his rank as a Lieutenant Colonel.

“Report! Medic Lin Yu reporting for duty!”

The Lieutenant Colonel paused his actions, placed the watering can on the edge of the flower bed, and raised his head, meeting Lin Yu’s gaze.

He then walked around the flower bed, approaching her, and corrected Lin Yu’s somewhat crooked salute into the proper stance.

“This is how one salutes… And you must be the volunteer medic Nangong mentioned, correct?”

With her right hand twisted into a palm-outward position, Lin Yu discreetly committed the Diacla Army’s standard salute to memory.

“Yes, sir. I await your orders.”

“…You are even more like a girl than I had imagined.”

“Come in, let’s formally discuss your plan.”

Several senior medics were also present in the quarters, each occupied with their own tasks, whether brewing tea and chatting idly or reading by the window.

Whenever Lin Yu looked their way, a peculiar ‘I understand everything’ expression would bloom on their faces.

The unspoken agreement Nangong and the seniors had made to protect her was being meticulously observed.

The Lieutenant Colonel walked to his desk, gesturing for Lin Yu to take a seat opposite him.

“As you know, we are all native-born Diacla citizens, and Lanfosi (TL Note: A fictional language in the story, analogous to English.) is truly quite challenging for us.”

“You needn’t worry about that, sir. May I borrow a pen?”

He furrowed his brow, then placed the pen from his hand before Lin Yu, along with a stack of manuscript paper.

“What will you use it for?”

Lin Yu offered no reply, quietly uncapping the pen and swiftly inscribing a row of English letters onto the paper.

‘Oh no, here they should be called “Lanfosi letters.”

Staring at the 52 uppercase and lowercase letters on the paper, the Lieutenant Colonel, disbelieving, retrieved several tattered books from his drawer and placed them on the desk, comparing them one by one with the handwritten script.

“You…” The Lieutenant Colonel looked up again, adjusting his thin-rimmed glasses.

“You speak Lanfosi?”

“Yes,” Lin Yu affirmed, nodding with a hint of pride.

She had never imagined her CET-4 and CET-6 (TL Note: CET-4 and CET-6 are standardized English proficiency tests in mainland China, commonly taken by university students.) scores would prove so invaluable.

‘Well, perhaps it was the second time she’d found them so useful; the first had been in that shell crater, where her lack of Lanfosi knowledge would have ensured she was stabbed by a dagger and left to sleep eternally in the no-man’s-land.’

“Excellent. You will be responsible for translating and transcribing the initial propaganda leaflets.”

“If the effect proves as potent as you claim, I will report it up the chain of command and instruct the printing presses in the rear to begin full-scale production.”

The Lieutenant Colonel beckoned a medic over, instructing her to package all the manuscript paper on the desk and also providing Lin Yu with an unopened bottle of ink to use.

“Complete all the writing today; it needs to be ready for implementation before the day after tomorrow.”

“As for the first step, the songs… I hear you sing quite beautifully?”

Lin Yu stood agape, unsure how to respond, while the senior medic clearing the desk shot her a mysterious, knowing smile.

‘Well, it seems you really did sell me out…’

It was immediately clear that Nangong, conspiring with the other medics, had divulged her personal details to the Lieutenant Colonel.

“Given the current circumstances, with no sheet music or performers available, and only a loudspeaker potentially ready, this plan will be exceedingly difficult to execute.”

“I’ll do it…”

Gritting her teeth, she reluctantly took on even the first step of the plan.

“I happen to possess some theoretical knowledge of music; I could… compose a few anti-war songs on the spot.”

The Lieutenant Colonel immediately clapped his hands with unbridled joy, though his expression appeared somewhat disingenuous.

“It seems Nangong has truly found a treasure for me! Conveniently, I have a gramophone; we can record a song for you.”

Another senior medic entered the room, carrying a device resembling a record player, which she placed at the other end of the desk.

The Lieutenant Colonel retrieved a shimmering magic stone from a drawer, installed it into the slot, and the record immediately began to spin leisurely, emitting a dance tune.

Lin Yu noticed that the moment the gramophone activated, both the Lieutenant Colonel and the medic beside him subtly furrowed their brows.

‘A magic fluctuation, the influence of a magical artifact…’

‘If this effect couldn’t be nullified, it wasn’t just warfare that would be impossible; even peace-time car drivers would be driven mad.’

‘She wondered if magical engines could even power heavy vehicles.’

She took up her pen and began to write lines of Lanfosi onto the blank paper, plagiarizing… or rather, drawing literary inspiration from the trench ditties of the British Army in her previous life.

“If you want to find the General, I know where he is~♩”

“I know where he is, I know where he is~♪”

“If you want to find the General, I know where he is~♩”

“He’s pinning new medals on his chest~♫”

“I see him, I see him, pinning new medals on his chest~pinning new medals on his chest~♬”

…

“If you want to find the Private, I know where he is~♩”

“I know where he is, I know where he is~♪”

“If you want to find the Private, I know where he is~♩”

“He’s hanging on the barbed wire…”

“I see him, I see him, hanging on the barbed wire, hanging on the barbed wire…”

The entire song she penned comprised four stanzas, each depicting the disparate living conditions of generals, field officers, non-commissioned officers, and the privates hunkered down in the trenches – the latter corresponding to the rank of Second Private in Diacla’s military.

The general, renowned for his distinguished service; the colonel, enjoying a hearty meal; the sergeant, reveling in drink; and the private, left hanging on the barbed wire.

War did not descend equally upon everyone.

For the aristocratic officers of high rank, whether or not to engage in battle was merely a matter of going to work or not.

Moreover, with increased wartime allowances and greater opportunities for promotion, going to war could even be considered advantageous for them.

As for the non-commissioned officers, while they too had to huddle in trenches with the Second Privates and endure shellfire, they were often spared the responsibility of charging enemy lines, instead merely blowing whistles to send the Second Privates to their deaths.

And the Second Privates?

Just as the song’s title implied, they were left hanging on the barbed wire.

After finishing, Lin Yu held up the manuscript paper and performed the song for those present.

Even though they couldn’t understand Lanfosi, they could discern the mockery and sorrow in her tone and inflection.

The final stanza, in particular, Lin Yu delivered with a deliberately low voice, as if unwilling to disturb the souls of those who had perished, caught on the barbed wire.

“That’s roughly how it goes.”

“Beautiful!”

The Lieutenant Colonel and the medics applauded, acclaiming Lin Yu’s performance; her voice was certainly worthy of their praise.

But what of the Second Privates who couldn’t escape hell as she had, the conscripts who couldn’t become medics like her, the ordinary people with no skills or talents destined to die as expendable fodder on the battlefield… what applause did their voices deserve?

The battle cries in no-man’s-land, the wails of agony in the medical tents, all ultimately devolved into the silence of mass graves.

They had never sung aloud, and so, Lin Yu resolved to sing for them.

She would sing of the war’s cruelty, its injustice, and how the truly deserving of death were not these boisterously laughing men.

But rather—

Lin Yu consciously cut off her thoughts, redirecting her attention to the Lieutenant Colonel before her.

“Sir, was that just recorded?”

“I think we could add an accompaniment. Please wait a moment…”

She felt incredibly fortunate.

Yet, she felt undeserving of such abundant luck.