Chapter 47 Recognition

"... 'Better to be a ghost fighting for the country than a slave to a conquered nation.' These were the words first uttered by 29th Army Battalion Commander Jin Zhenzhong at the Marco Polo Bridge.

For a long time afterward, this declaration inspired countless soldiers and civilians to fiercely resist the Japanese devils.

However, I must admit one thing: many of the brothers I knew, having received very little relevant education, or coming from underground secret societies, did not quite understand these simple truths.

Yet, driven by their trust in me, or simply out of a sense of brotherhood, they still chose to follow me into one exceptionally cruel and intense bloody battle after another.

They died on various known and unknown battlefields, and no one remembers them.

Whenever I think of this, I feel a profound sense of guilt toward them...

...Excerpt from Hu Biao's diary collection, *Biao's Nonsense*...

That same afternoon, at the temporary encampment of the 3rd Company of the 804th Regiment of the Sichuan Army, a full-scale shooting drill was underway—a shooting training session that even the mess squad was required to participate in.

Chest out, stomach in, Black Star stood in a standard military posture.

Raising his voice, he loudly instructed the thirty or so soldiers standing before him, each holding a Sichuan-made Type 79 rifle, on the technical essentials of marksmanship:

"Pay attention. When aiming, it is best to keep both eyes open.

Squinting one eye does not make you shoot more accurately. Keeping both eyes open actually allows you to better observe the battlefield situation. Unused to it? Practice more and you'll get used to it."

The sound of Black Star's voice had barely faded when Uncle Bo, who was supervising the shooting training of another group of thirty men nearby, spoke up right after him.

His voice followed closely: "Attention, control your breathing rhythm. Don't understand? It means you should ideally pull the trigger while exhaling, right at the very end of an out-breath.

Because holding your breath while aiming and firing will only make your hands shake and throw off your accuracy."

Hearing these instructions, Hu Biao nodded in satisfaction.

Mainly because during the latter stage of his previous time-travel mission—specifically the final period holding out at Position No. 7—his marksmanship had already become quite decent.

Yet that skill had been forged purely through the gradual development of a shooter's intuition over hundreds of rounds of combat.

If you asked him to explain or share his experience, he wouldn't even know where to begin.

He certainly couldn't articulate things as lucidly as Black Star and Uncle Bo, and in fact, Hu Biao had never even heard of those specific pointers before. Yet, as he reflected on them in light of his combat experience, they did make a lot of sense.

And so, the 3rd Company's limited reserve of ammunition was rapidly consumed amidst the rat-tat-tat of gunfire.

The sound of their dwindling ammunition reserves gave Hu Biao a rather heart-pounding sensation, yet he had no choice but to bite the bullet and press on with the training.

Of course, Hu Biao knew very well that thinking about conducting shooting training right on the verge of battle was a bit like waiting until you urgently needed the restroom before starting to dig a trench.

The crucial problem was—did he have any other choice?

Because it was only when he, AT, and Huang Ah-di returned from the brigade headquarters that Uncle Bo and the others, left behind at the 3rd Company, had broken the news of a rather absurd issue.

A large majority of the Sichuan Army brothers in the 3rd Company couldn't really be said to have terrible marksmanship; at best, their shooting could only be described as "completely mediocre."

The reason behind this was that the Sichuan Army was not only short on rifles, but equally lacking in ammunition. Opportunities for live-fire training during peacetime were extremely rare, so naturally, a considerable number of them were poor shots.

What could be done? They had no choice but to intensify training temporarily.

As the old saying goes: Even a weapon hastily sharpened before battle will gleam a little.

Thus, having reached a preliminary agreement with Director Sun and figuring that the 3rd Company would be replenished with a large batch of ammunition before the battle, Hu Biao led the entire company into shooting drills.

Damn it! Because one-third of the men didn't even have rifles, they had to conduct the training in alternating shifts.

Fortunately, during the self-introductions of the newcomers this time, neither Black Star nor Uncle Bo had been bluffing; they were thoroughly professional when guiding the shooting training, which was a massive help to him...

******

Amidst the intermittent gaps in the *rat-tat* of gunfire, a voice suddenly reached Hu Biao's ears:

"Company Commander Hu, I heard that the number of little Japanese devils who have died under your gun alone numbers in the dozens. How about firing a few rounds for us to witness?"

In an instant, the atmosphere across the entire makeshift firing range grew deathly quiet.

Chao-zi, who at that moment was holding a Sichuan-made Type 79 rifle and struggling to aim at the target to get a feel for it, instinctively turned his head to see who had spoken, and instantly muttered a curse under his breath.

Because the person who had spoken was a squad leader in the company who clearly looked like an old veteran—or a member of the *Pao Ge* secret society.

And after this squad leader, who seemed to be nicknamed "Flat Skull," had spoken up, none of the original officers in the company made any move to stop him.

Instead, they lowered their weapons, crossed their arms, and together with the other Sichuan Army soldiers, took on the stance of spectators waiting for a good show.

The so-called *Pao Ge* was a prominent secret society organization in the Sichuan, Yunnan, and Guizhou regions during the Republic of China era, permeating nearly every trade and profession with immense influence.

Within the 20th Army, which belonged to the Sichuan Army system, there was also a considerable presence of them.

It was safe to assume that these *Pao Ge* members, along with the other officers and men of the 3rd Company, harbored a fair amount of dissatisfaction toward these parachute arrivals—especially Hu Biao as their company commander.

When he had instructed them that morning on fort construction, anti-artillery, and anti-aircraft measures, their attitudes had all been rather perfunctory.

And now, seeing that he, AT, Da-chui, and Huang Ah-di—the four rookies—had such abysmal marksmanship, they finally couldn't help themselves anymore.

Of course, they couldn't entirely be blamed; how many men back in the modern plane had ever touched a real gun? Even secretly buying a BB gun made people's hearts pound with anxiety.

With zero practical training, wasn't poor marksmanship completely normal?

The critical issue was that if Hu Biao refused the challenge or performed poorly, nobody would pay attention to a word he said going forward.

Yet, they happened to be challenging Hu Biao, the acting company commander. Uncle Bo and Black Star, who had the best marksmanship among the time-travelers, couldn't very well step in to take his place.

For a moment, Chao-zi and the others, who held very little confidence in Hu Biao's actual shooting skills, began to worry.

"Want to see my marksmanship? Sure thing," Hu Biao replied with absolute confidence, speaking in a halting, broken Sichuan dialect.

Seeing this, Chao-zi and the others finally felt a wave of relief wash over them.

And the result? Hu Biao casually took a Sichuan-made Type 79 rifle, raised it, and within a dozen seconds, fired three shots in rapid succession: *bang, bang, bang*.

The target a hundred meters away was missed entirely—every single shot.

"Damn it! They might as well have let me shoot; at least I might have gotten lucky and hit something by accident," Chao-zi muttered inwardly at the sight.

Amidst the mocking glances of the Sichuan Army brothers, Hu Biao remained completely unfazed. After reloading the magazine, he turned to Chao-zi and said:

"Aren't there a pile of roof tiles by your feet? Throw them out at five-second intervals."

"You can't even hit a stationary target, and now you want to show off with a moving target? Aren't you afraid of losing enough face?" Chao-zi complained silently, where only he could hear.

Yet, things had already reached this point; what else could he do?

He could only squat down, pick up five roof tiles with his right hand, and toss them out one by one with his left.

Then, just as the first tile reached the peak of its arc, a gunshot rang out, shattering it to pieces; the subsequent four tiles met the exact same fate, bursting into flying shards in mid-air.

Who would have thought that while Hu Biao was useless at hitting stationary targets, he actually possessed a brilliant hand for hitting moving ones?

After five shots, having emptied the magazine, Hu Biao executed a stylish weapon-lowering maneuver.

Instantly, thunderous cheers erupted. The looks in the eyes of the 3rd Company's Sichuan Army brothers finally lost their initial defiance and gained a measure of genuine respect.

In the military, after all, individual capability has always been paramount since ancient times.

Now that the men of the 3rd Company discovered that Hu Biao, their parachute-in acting company commander, actually had some genuine tricks up his sleeve, they finally began to believe the boasts Zhu Cong had told them about Position No. 7.

Naturally, they developed a bit more acceptance toward these newcomers.

Only, what they didn't know was that at that exact moment, Hu Biao's underwear was completely soaked through with cold sweat.

Of course he knew how crucial his recent performance was for winning over the hearts of the 3rd Company; the pressure throughout the entire process had been immense, and he had merely been putting on a brave face.

Fortunately, the intense combat of his previous mission had fortuitously honed his ability to hit moving targets, and coupled with a bit of luck, his performance just now had been stellar.

It had finally succeeded in winning over the basic loyalty and respect of the Sichuan Army soldiers in the 3rd Company.

Yet this level of approval still felt somewhat insufficient; he needed to find a way to elevate it further.

Just as Hu Biao was pondering how to proceed, the corner of his eye caught sight of something, and he couldn't help but smile. Wasn't this just someone handing him a pillow right when he was falling asleep?