"Sir Major, what about you?"
"I'll live and die with this place! Take my sword, soldier, and tell them how bravely the Udine 2nd Infantry Regiment fought!"
"Sir Major, your hands are shaking."
"I drank too much. It's nothing."
"But the liquor ran out two days ago."
"...You've never heard of a place called Jiuquan?"
"Reporting, sir. I've been here three years, and I've never heard of it."
"Five years!"
"Eight years!"
The other soldiers chimed in from all sides.
"Hmph! If I make it back alive, I'll take you there next time."
"Major, forget next time. We're all going to die. Look, the Italian Allied Forces are attacking again."
"Get out of here! If I blow up the city gate, I can hold them off a little longer."
Major Berning said urgently, but the others didn't react. The soldiers picked up their weapons and headed for the ramparts.
"What are you doing? Do you know how many of them there are?"
"No, but we've beaten them back plenty of times. We can do it again."
An old veteran spat the hard bread from his mouth. The cook had run off, so they had to make their own bread.
These soldiers had once subsisted on gruel—whatever edible ingredients they could find, all thrown into a pot and boiled into a thick paste.
The other soldiers looked just as unconcerned.
"If we leave now, we won't get paid."
"Exactly. And if those religious priests rule us, the world will only get worse. I fled here from the Papal States, and I think life is pretty good now."
"We're just like you, sir. We're people no one needs. This fortress is the only place that needs us. We're willing to live and die here with you."
"Good brothers—"
Berning hadn't finished speaking