Just as Jero Bonaparte was plunged into self-doubt, a soldier nearby eagerly asked which unit Jero Bonaparte belonged to and what his na was!
"Um! Actually, I am..." After hesitating for a mont, Jero Bonaparte responded, "I am from the Third Division, Second Brigade, Third Regint, and my na is Jero Pariou!"
After Jero Bonaparte said this, the soldiers sitting around him all cast envious glances at him: "So you’re from the Guard Division!"
"Yeah!" Jero Bonaparte nodded and then tore off a piece of black bread, chewed it, and curiously asked, "Did sothing happen with the Guard Division?"
"Nothing!" The soldiers shook their heads, and one soldier patted Jero Bonaparte on the shoulder and said in a senior’s tone, "I didn’t expect soone with your build could get into the Guard Division! Looks like the standards for the Guard Division aren’t as high as I imagined, huh?"
"Luck! Just luck!" Jero Bonaparte smiled, waved his hand, and responded to the soldier.
"Oh! If only we had your luck!" Another soldier sighed and mumbled, "Your Guard Division is really in the spotlight now! Especially with your commander Pellissier; I’ve heard that the newspapers back ho are already praising him as the next Grand Marshal Surt! Once he takes over Marshal Saint Arno’s position, you’ll naturally rise along with the tide!"
"Is that what you say?" Jero Bonaparte inquired with feigned curiosity.
"How else can I say it! Once Pellissier takes over as the expedition army commander after Marshal Saint Arno, there will inevitably be war! Once the war starts, your Third Division will naturally be put to good use! By then, won’t you directly get promoted, brother!" the soldier responded in a coaxing tone.
"This..." Jero Bonaparte scratched his head and retorted, "War isn’t a field trip! You can’t just win it so easily!"
"Brother, I really don’t know how you got into the Third Division!" The soldier responded to Jero Bonaparte in an exasperated tone, "With the soldiers Russia has, how could they be our opponents!"
Another soldier added, "Yeah! The whole Russia is like a rundown house, teetering on the brink; just give the doorfra a gentle kick, and they’ll collapse with a crash!"
When the soldier said this, Jero Bonaparte felt a familiar wave wash over him, suddenly realizing it sounded like sothing a national leader said when attacking the Soviet Union!
Ninety years later, it happened in advance!
Damn it! I’ve beco Hitler!
Jero Bonaparte cursed inwardly; he certainly did not want to beco a guy who commits suicide in a bunker.
It has been proven that anyone who underestimates Russia will inevitably be defeated by Russia.
Russia has always given the impression of being decayed and backward, their armies are conscripted from Slav livestock at will, their bureaucrats have only learned corruption and embezzlent, their governnt’s inefficiency is only slightly better than the Ottoman Empire!
But this doesn’t an that the Russian Empire is a fragile nation, quite the opposite; even when their governnt makes endless mistakes, they manage to keep fighting on with tenacious resilience, correcting mistakes in battle and eventually defeating their opponents.
From the Napoleonic Wars to World War I, and then to World War II, the Slavs have shown their resilience as livestock through their actions.
The opponents that the Russian Empire needs to defeat are never abroad, but dostically.
The way to topple the Russian Empire is also not to defeat them militarily, but to erode the Russian Empire’s living forces while inciting internal rebellion.
Anyone who tries to solve the enormous empire through military ans ends up being dragged down by the enormous empire.
"Do you really believe that?" Jero Bonaparte stirred the vegetable soup with a wooden spoon and asked the soldier with a serious expression.
Feeling the involuntary aura of authority emanating from Jero Bonaparte’s body, the soldiers present froze their expressions and then cautiously responded to Jero Bonaparte, "It’s not just us; everyone thinks the Russian Empire will soon collapse! If you don’t believe it, ask them!"
After speaking, the soldier pointed to the officers eating around them with his hand.
"What nonsense!" Jero Bonaparte slightly furrowed his brows and mumbled quietly.
If what the soldiers said was true, then the Imperial Army might face a painful lesson in the upcoming battles.
Now it seems that the victory at Sevastopol ca way too easily, to the point that many people are underestimating the Russian Empire.
"Who exactly are you?"
The soldier’s voice reached Jero Bonaparte’s ear again, and coming back to his senses, he quickly relaxed his brows and reassured the sowhat tense soldiers around him, "Didn’t I just say? I’m from the Third Division!"
"If you were just an ordinary soldier, you definitely wouldn’t have said what you just did!" the soldier said firmly to Jero Bonaparte.
"Cough... cough, I’m just concerned for the army’s solace!" Jero Bonaparte casually replied.
"You just said your na is Jero Pariou, right?" the soldier continued to address Jero Bonaparte with respect, "I rember His Majesty the Emperor is called Jero Joseph Bonaparte, and the Emperor’s nephew from the First Division is called Jero Patterson... so, do you have any connection with His Majesty the Emperor?"
"Let’s just say we’re distantly related!" Jero Bonaparte continued to brush off the question.
"Then can you tell His Majesty the Emperor that next ti we go into battle, if the Second Division can take the lead!" The soldier looked at Jero Bonaparte with eager eyes.
"You all..." Jero Bonaparte paused, then said, "Aren’t you afraid?"
"Afraid? Why should we be afraid?" The soldiers looked at Jero Bonaparte in confusion.
"Doesn’t death make a person feel afraid?" Jero Bonaparte asked the soldiers.
"Death indeed makes one afraid!" The soldier first admitted the fear of death, then said solemnly, "But more than death, we are afraid that all our sacrifices will be ignored, and we fear that the glory of our ancestors will be tarnished in our hands! Our fathers, following His Majesty Napoleon, swept across the entire European Continent, and we must follow the Emperor’s nephew to do what our fathers did but did not finish!!"
Another soldier also spoke, "I am the son of a farr, my grandfather once gave a leg for His Majesty the Emperor, and he told that the reason our family has what we have today is all because of the Emperor’s policies back then!
That’s why my grandfather and father believe that the Emperor’s nephew will not abandon their loyal farr!"
Jero Bonaparte was moved, what loyalty that is!
Thinking of this, Jero Bonaparte firmly said to them, "Rest assured! I will report your wish to the Emperor!"
After saying this, Jero Bonaparte downed the now cold vegetable soup in one go, then got up and left the army canteen.
"Look at that person! Doesn’t he look like soone!" An officer sitting in the army canteen nudged his friend with his elbow.
"Who?" The officer raised his head with a puzzled expression and then looked in the direction his friend pointed.
When he saw Jero Bonaparte’s face, the hand holding the wooden spoon softly trembled, and then he said with a shaky voice, "Your... Your Majesty!"
After speaking, he lowered his voice and urgently asked, "Is that His Majesty!"
"I don’t know!" The officer shook his head, then changed the subject, "But, I heard that His Majesty the Emperor has already arrived in Constantinople!"
"Then it must be him!"
And so, shortly after Jero Bonaparte left, a rumor about His Majesty the Emperor appearing in the canteen spread throughout the military hospital.
After leaving the canteen, Jero Bonaparte strolled the corridors of the hospital until he encountered Vilnius again.
"Where did you run off to?" Vilnius whispered a question.
"The canteen!" Jero Bonaparte replied matter-of-factly.
"What did you do in the canteen?" Vilnius looked at him quizzically.
"What else?" Jero Bonaparte spread his hands in reply to Vilnius, "To eat! But I must say, the lunch in the canteen is quite... how do I put it! Special!"
"How about I treat you to a al outside?" Vilnius asked Jero Bonaparte again.
"No need!" Jero Bonaparte shook his head in refusal, "I’m already full! By the way, which injection is it for Marshal Saint Arno today?"
"The second one just finished!" Vilnius answered.
"Then go have your al! I’ll go have a chat with Marshal Arno!" Jero Bonaparte replied to Vilnius.
"Okay!" Vilnius nodded, then reminded Jero Bonaparte not to talk for too long as Marshal Saint Arno needed rest too.
"Got it!" Jero Bonaparte nodded, then reached out his hand, "By the way, give a mask!"
[PS: The mask is also a product forcefully promoted by Jero Bonaparte and Louis Pasteur. Due to substandard technology, the quality of the gauze masks is not very good and is particularly thick!]
"What do you need the mask for!" Vilnius asked as he took the mask out of his pocket.
"Do you think people will recognize walking through the hospital like this?" Jero Bonaparte smiled and replied.
Vilnius handed the mask to Jero Bonaparte, who put it on and quickly made his way to the ward where Marshal Saint Arno was.
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