The War Continues
The trains that carried the wounded from the front lines also transported several military officers. After they had a brief discussion with the head of the regiment to which Akado belonged, they called upon one of the regiment's heroes—a mercenary from the distant East named Akado.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Pvt. Akado!" greeted a major, who was dressed in a traditional Prussian military uniform featuring double-row buttons and adorned with two heavy trousers. He looked very imposing as he extended his right hand while maintaining a rigid, upright posture.
Akado, adhering to military decorum, saluted sharply before shaking hands with the major. "Mr. Major, Private Akado salutes you," he said respectfully.
The major gestured casually behind him, prompting his aide or guard to retrieve a document from the bag he carried. The document was handed over to the major, who then presented it to Akado.
"In recognition of your heroic performance in recent battles, the Legion Headquarters hereby awards you the Grade II Iron Cross. Thank you for saving the lives of 117 soldiers. You are among the finest soldiers I have ever encountered!" The major's smile was warm, his demeanor friendly as if a boss commending an employee with a modest bonus.
"Long live His Majesty the Emperor!" Akado exclaimed, his voice echoing with fervor, a sentiment that seemed almost anachronistic in the early twentieth century—a time when multiple emperors still ruled over Europe.
The major continued, holding the document in his hand, "Furthermore, you have been promoted. Almost all of your company was lost, and the regiment's headquarters has ordered the promotion of qualified and capable soldiers. Your qualifications and abilities are commendable, so from this moment, you are a sergeant."
Akado experienced a mix of emotions—amusement and disbelief. He reflected on how, unlike Hitler who had coveted the Iron Cross for months, he had achieved this rank with relative ease, merely spending a couple of days beside a hospital bed.
After delivering the orders, the major seemed inclined to conclude the conversation, given his status and the typical reserve expected in interactions between different ranks.
When Akado returned to his regiment, he wore a new uniform, the black Iron Cross pinned proudly on his chest—a symbol of honor and pride, crafted with the precision that was a hallmark of German industrial prowess. He admired the medal repeatedly, a rare artifact that he once could only have seen in photographs back in China.
However, Akado was mindful of the circumstances under which he had received the medal, which had bizarrely shifted him from a list of victors to a list of the missing. He knew he needed to be cautious, although he also understood that he likely wouldn't be returning to the front lines to fight.
The war seemed to be winding down. After the withdrawal of the Austrian 16th Infantry Corps from the front, it became clear that the aggrieved World War I would likely end abruptly. Initially, the situation had seemed slightly favorable for Germany. By 1918, after four years of defensive warfare, the Germans were poised to go on the offensive again. Despite the stalemate on the Western Front, they had achieved victories elsewhere—Serbia, Romania, and eventually Russia had all succumbed to the German offensive, resulting in peace treaties that favored Germany.
With the collapse of the enemy on the Eastern Front, Germany had transferred over a million troops to France, aiming to break the deadlock with a decisive battle on the Western Front. This "Emperor's Battle" was set to begin in the spring.
The Germans launched four major offensives, pushing the British and French forces to retreat. The situation intensified, and the British were ordered to fight to the last soldier. On July 15th, the decisive battle near the city of Lyme began. Both sides understood that this battle would likely determine the outcome of the war.
"If we succeed in the offensive at Remus, we will win this war," declared German General Ludendorff.
Marshal Foch, the commander-in-chief of the Allied forces, echoed the sentiment from the opposite perspective, "If the Germans succeed at Remus, we lose this war."
However, the German offensive faltered, and the once formidable German forces found themselves without reserves. The Allies, bolstered by American divisions and continuous supplies of weapons and food from the United States, held strong.
As the train carried Akado eastward, he was accompanied by soldiers who were physically and emotionally spent. Among them was Hitler, his eyes bandaged and his face swollen, barely recognizable from the strain of the war. The soldiers spoke in hushed, ghostly tones, refusing food and medical treatment for their inflamed eyes despite assurances from doctors that their vision could soon be restored. All they desired was to lie still, to find relief from their pain, even if it meant welcoming death.
On this same train, history silently noted the presence of a small figure—an Austrian infantry regiment sergeant from the third company and a mercenary from the far East, Akado.
"Germany is finished. The attack near Lyme has depleted our reserves, and we've made no significant progress. The entry of the United States has shifted the balance completely. His Majesty the Emperor may end the war soon," Akado murmured, leaning against the metal wall of the train car.
"Although I'm reluctant to admit it, Mr. Akado, your strategic foresight has always been accurate. You predicted the attack near Lyme, but I still can't believe we will be defeated," Hitler responded, his voice tinged with loneliness due to the gauze wrapped around his eyes.
"Mr. Hitler, we are still young. Although we are currently at a disadvantage, we will reclaim what we've lost," Akado stated confidently.
Hitler nodded silently, and for a long while, the only sound was the rhythmic clacking of the train wheels against the tracks. Finally, Hitler spoke again, "Mr. Akado, you are truly a learned man. I believe you are more knowledgeable than our commanders."
"Thank you," Akado replied with a smile, gazing through the gap in the train car at the distant plains. The First World War was drawing to a close, and the next twenty years would be his stage.
In early August 1918, the British launched a raid near Amiens, and the German army collapsed almost without resistance. The Germans withdrew, but a few hundred soldiers remained, determined to fulfill their duties. They used their blood to affirm their commitment, stubbornly holding on to their fragmented positions, causing endless trouble for their adversaries.
Back in Germany, the will to continue the war waned, and strikes broke out across the nation. In the eyes of diehards like Hitler, the secure, undisturbed rear areas—populated by opportunists, shirkers, and traitors who showed neither love nor respect for Germany—had betrayed the desperate battle at the front at the most critical moment.
When the train brought Akado and Hitler to a hospital in Basvalk, a small town in the province of Pomerania, Hitler's despair was momentarily forgotten amidst his physical pain. After several weeks of treatment, his vision began to return. The inflammation subsided, the swelling in his eyes reduced, and the severe pain around his orbits lessened. Slowly, he could discern the outlines of objects around him. The restoration of his sight brought him hope and renewed his interest in current events.
However, the Imperial Center in Berlin was effectively besieged, and the new government urged the Kaiser to abdicate to facilitate a ceasefire agreement.
One morning, as Akado was brushing his teeth in the tranquil hospital in Basvalk, the peace was disrupted. Three young men in overalls and forward caps entered the large ward. They positioned a chair in the center of the aisle next to an injured soldier's bed and one of them climbed onto it to speak.
"Long live the Bolsheviks! Gentlemen! Only the Bolsheviks can save our Germany! The Kaiser must step down! He is the culprit of this war!" proclaimed the young man passionately.
"His Majesty the Emperor is not the culprit! You are a group of chaotic thieves!" Hitler countered loudly, his eyes still red.
"Look at the Soviets! Look at Comrade Lenin! The Russians withdrew from the war without losing anything! We should believe that the Bolsheviks can also lead us out of the threat of war!" the young man argued convincingly, waving his fist emphatically. His words silenced the room, leaving Hitler momentarily speechless, unable to formulate a rebuttal.
"Have you ever been on the battlefield?" a voice suddenly cut through the tension. All eyes turned toward the door where a tall, slightly thin Germanic man with a sparse beard stood. His blue eyes, set deep in his sockets, held no emotion—eyes that had witnessed life and death and were no longer perturbed by the waves of human conflict.
"Have you ever been on the battlefield?" Akado repeated, his voice firm, as he stared at the three young men who had yet to respond.