Chapter 10: The Road Turns Around (4)

  Article 4

  Di Qing thought he wasn't a coward, during his training in the Marine Corps he had spent three consecutive nights sleeping alone in a morgue filled with corpses, but today a wave of nausea made him pale and chilled to the bone.

  The area of Mauk was originally the main food producing area in Jakarta, with an area of 16,000 hectares of rice fields and a production volume of nearly 60,000 tons; vegetable area of over 10,000 hectares, with a production volume of 73,000 tons.

  This season should have been a busy harvest scene, but today the fields that were supposed to be filled with the fragrance of rice are instead littered with the bodies of Javanese people who died from mutual slaughter. The air is thick with the stench of rotting flesh, occasionally alleviated by the smell of gasoline from Chinese army tanks driving by on the highway, but soon it envelops the convoy again.

  Many Indonesian Chinese soldiers in the same vehicle could no longer hold back, and holding onto the side of the military truck, they vomited endlessly, after all, not long ago they were still kind ordinary citizens.

  Di Qing was one of the 1,500 military instructors sent by the Chinese army to Java. As a returned overseas Chinese from Southeast Asia himself, he gained the trust of Indonesian Chinese because he could speak Malay fluently, which is widely used in Southeast Asia.

  After the "September 30" incident in 1965, the Indonesian government did not allow Chinese people to use Chinese characters, one of the five common languages of the United Nations. They were not allowed to run Chinese schools, publish Chinese newspapers and books, celebrate traditional Chinese New Year, and had to adopt Indonesian nationality, and were also not allowed to use Chinese names.

  So among the Indonesian Chinese in one of the battalions led by Dicky, more than half did not speak Mandarin but only spoke local Malay.

  "Prepare for battle." The first day's advance of the Chinese Army did not go smoothly, especially after entering the city, where fierce street fighting gave the Chinese Expeditionary Force a taste of bloodshed. A Type 88C tank from the Chinese Army was firing intensely at a building on the corner ahead, while several street fighting teams that had just been withdrawn from the front line were squatting on the road, constantly replenishing their water supply.

  As Di Qing gave the order to his subordinates, he began to ask them about the situation at the front line. "Damn it, the Indonesian monkeys are hiding in their holes like rats and won't come out no matter what. Don't show any mercy, all that policy propaganda and shouting is useless." A wounded battalion commander replied in a Sichuan accent, reminding Di Qing to cover his mouth and nose with a towel when entering the war zone. His suggestion was soon verified. There were corpses everywhere, burning buildings everywhere, and the Chinese army's urban warfare unit was clearing the battlefield room by room using flamethrowers.

  In such an environment, a man's instinctive impulse stimulated the nerves of every Chinese soldier who set foot on this land.

  Meanwhile, a fierce battle was also unfolding at Hualien Airport, which the 171st Airborne Brigade was attacking. Chinese soldiers took cover behind several destroyed Indonesian Eagle Airways planes on the runway and exchanged intense gunfire with Javanese militiamen inside the terminal building.

  Secured by two safety harnesses inside the open cargo bay of the Mi-17 helicopter, Gan Zelin slowly aimed his Type 98 sniper rifle at today's fifth target.

  That was a scrawny Javanese, wearing an ill-fitting uniform of the original Indonesian government army, frantically sweeping the runway with an AK-47. With a crisp gunshot, Gan Zelin's rifle slammed into his shoulder, and on the scope, the back of the opponent's head had already sprayed bright red blood flowers.

  But soon another Indonesian with a bare shoulder ran into Gan Ze Lin's scope, trying to pick up the bloody AK. Gan Ze Lin smiled bitterly and pulled the trigger again.

  "This is probably comparable to the Warsaw Uprising at the end of World War II." General Qian Xiao, commander of the Southeast Asian Theater of the Chinese People's National Defense Army in southern Vietnam, said with a smile as he looked at the freshly printed report.

  "Is it really impossible to find a political solution? I fear that our soldiers, who have gone through such hellish battles, will..." Air Force Commander General Ma Yiling asked with a look of difficulty.

  "War itself is hell, if you don't have a bit of blood on your body, what kind of soldier are you?" General Qian Xiao laughed loudly. "Besides, the Central Government also hopes that we can fight fiercely in the post-Java war reconstruction work, so as to ensure long-term stability and security in this region."

  Of course, not every soldier in this war was trapped in hell. At least the 1,500 Chinese marine corps soldiers transported by Y-8S military transport aircraft to Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital of Brunei, felt like they had entered heaven.

  If one word were to describe Brunei, it would be "rich". This country does not levy personal income tax and implements free medical care and education at all levels. The whole country feels like a large urban garden with a per capita GDP of BND 25,100 (1 USD = 1.801 BND).

  At the airport, a well-equipped British Gurkha battalion consisting of 800 Nepalese soldiers and 200 British soldiers lined up to welcome the Chinese expeditionary force. Although the British still put on a pretentious appearance, they had long been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Chinese army.

  After a simple ceremony marking the exchange between the two militaries, Chinese troops fanned out across western Brunei.

  "If I were to give the order now, lead this band of tigers and wolves to overthrow Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah of Brunei and establish myself as king. It shouldn't be too difficult, should it?" Such a thought suddenly flashed through Colonel Yi Fei's mind as he traversed the city, fortunately, it was just a fleeting notion.

  On the other side of the vast ocean, a group of exhausted Americans were not so lucky. In the waters off the southern coast of Kalimantan Island, in the sweltering hold of an Australian freighter, Lieutenant Colonel Walker and his pilots waited patiently for the best moment to strike.

  The Tang Dynasty's Fubing system, the Song Dynasty's Forbidden Army, the Ming Dynasty's Wei and So systems, and the Qing Dynasty's Eight Banners. It seems that Chinese people have always been searching for a suitable military organizational structure for themselves. In fact, discussing how to establish a so-called perfect political framework in China is far less important and practical than thinking about how to build a feasible military system. With strong military power, China can avoid being beaten, protect its national interests overseas, and ultimately build the survival circle of the Chinese nation. However, this is not easy at all. It must be ensured that this army has lasting combat effectiveness and does not become corrupt or degenerate; the construction of the army should not have an impact on the country's economic development, nor should it form a so-called "poor soldier" phenomenon; soldiers should be full of vitality, and the army should have strong centripetal force. However, it cannot pose a threat to the highest ruling group, otherwise, it would be a "mountain stronghold" or a "warlord". The war process cannot be too smooth, because soon it will be ambushed and defeated, and once the front line loses, soldiers are always the first scapegoats, being executed in the eastern market, using their own flesh and blood to fill the mouths of the common people. Being an outstanding military officer in China is really difficult." A voice was passionately saying this in a mountain villa on the outskirts of Beijing.

  "Haha, that's why we've been demanding new and change, gathering you people here. Among you, there won't be another Yue Fei or Yuan Chonghuan, nor will there be another Su Yu or Peng Dehuai. You are no longer isolated and helpless, you have the ability to change China's future." Another hoarse voice followed, and the villa immediately erupted in warm applause.

  "Who else is on our list?" a familiar voice asked from behind Cao Yang, the Chief of Staff of the People's Federation of China, who was standing alone on the balcony.

  "Ren Lingyu will be here soon." Cao Yang replied softly. "Is that so? I hope he doesn't disappoint me." The voice said coldly. In the early autumn of Beijing, the wind was a bit cool.