"But later, Major discovered that the shells we fired during the day would be fired back the next day, so he no longer paid attention to the harassment at night from the other side."
The Duty Officer shrugged, "Anyway, in the dead of night, pitch black, nothing much comes out of it."
The Duty Officer raised his hand pointing above, "The other side is as clear as a mirror. At night, during harassment, they aim high, so the shells fly over our heads, fall into the river, making it impossible for us to retrieve them.
"In recent nights, they've even started firing blanks. Listen, wasn't there just the sound of firing earlier and no sound of shells?"
The Officer listened carefully, squinted slightly and said, "Are you saying that the enemy's cannons are already relying on recycling the shells you fired over to shoot?"
"Yes, but who isn't doing the same?" The Duty Officer sneered, "We do it too, we have to draw lots to go into the trenches to pick up shells."
The Officer looked slightly surprised, "You're not getting enough ammunition?"
The Duty Officer seemed to find the question amusing, paused for a moment, and answered meaningfully, "Ammunition will never be enough."
The Officer silently waved his hand after a moment, signaling the Junior Officer to continue leading the way.
The interior of the fortress was divided by crooked blocking walls like a maze, yet the guiding Duty Officer navigated with ease.
Familiar with the bends in the darkness, he smoothly crossed one limb and leg after another blocking the path and led the Officer to the Commander's quarters.
The Commander's quarters were right next to the chapel, which also served as the Command Center.
Despite the grand title, the so-called quarters and chapel were merely two small earthen chambers hollowed out within the walls of the fortress.
The chapel door was wide open, unobstructed, and a long-burning lamp was enshrined before the altar at the deepest part, the Divine Son on the crucifix gazing sadly at the scene within the fortress, eyes streaming tears.
The door of the Commander's quarters had a piece of felt fabric pretending to be a curtain draped over it, misleadingly covering the earthen chamber.
Beside the door, a small niche was carved out, with an extinguished oil lamp placed within it.
The fortress maintained strict fire control at night, so aside from the long-burning lamp next door, even the highest military Commander's door lacked any light.
The Officer halted the Duty Officer who wanted to announce his presence first, waved his hand, and gestured for him to leave.
Once the Duty Officer had walked away, the Officer picked up the oil lamp by the door, cleared his throat, and pulled aside the felt covering masquerading as a door curtain.
He didn't immediately walk into the highest military commander's bedroom of the fortress but first carefully surveyed the situation within the "cave" using the faint starlight shining through:
A small wooden barrel serving as a stool, a large wooden barrel used as a table, and a plank bed made from wooden boards and wooden barrels; besides these, there was nothing else.
Of course, there was also the person wrapped in a blanket on the bed.
And that person had already opened his eyes, staring intently at the uninvited guest standing at the door.
The Officer silently savored the moment.
"I can hardly imagine," he then exhaled lightly, gazing down at the person on the plank bed, regrettably yet with endless relish, saying, "Beggs, Atwell, Baladi, Big Paston... your many enemies, how much they would willingly pay, just to exchange positions with me right now."
The person on the plank bed showed no response, continuously staring at the visitor.
"And of course, we mustn't forget your friends," the Officer grinned, holding the oil lamp, stepping into the chamber heroically, taking a seat on a wooden barrel as if he were the owner of the room, his tone relaxed and delighted, "I'm sure they would gladly offer even more."
After speaking, he snapped his fingers.
First, a wisp of blue smoke, then with a "puff," a small flame sprouted from the lamp's wick.
Illuminating the thin face of Jansen Cornelius above the plank.