Chapter 149: The Troublemaker

The rain eased a bit, but the humidity in the jungle remained so thick it was suffocating.

We had thought it would be a very smooth retreat mission; after all, with the support of these thirty Dodge trucks, it was like injecting a stimulant into the exhausted Expeditionary Force.

However, in the chaotic battlefield, the ugliness and helplessness of human nature always grow wildly in the shadows like weeds.

Just as the convoy was about to set off at the checkpoint, a noisy clamor erupted from the rear of the convoy, breaking the previously tense and orderly atmosphere.

"On what grounds are you not letting me board! Look, my leg is limping! I can't even walk, are you just going to watch me die without helping?"

A sharp voice rang out; a skinny soldier with a shrewd expression clung desperately to the rear panel of the truck, his face a fierce, rogue scowl as he struggled to squeeze into the cabin.

His combat boots were caked in mud, and his face was full of arrogance.

The Independent Regiment soldier driving this transport vehicle was a young squad leader; he frowned and blocked the soldier who was trying to take advantage of the chaos.

"What are you doing! What are you doing! I told you, just take off your shoes, let me check the wound and confirm the injury, and you can board!" The squad leader stood his ground, his voice loud, "This is the battalion commander's order: anyone not examined is not allowed to board!"

The soldier named Li Laosan heard this, his eyes flickered away, and he instinctively pulled his "injured" foot back, then shouted defiantly, "I'm already like this; what if taking off my shoes gets infected? Aren't you bullying me? I think you just dislike me and want to throw me here to feed the enemy!"

In fact, to ensure transport efficiency, Hu Dali had established strict triage standards. Every wounded Expeditionary Force soldier boarding the transport vehicle would be fitted with a Bracelet of a different color. Red indicated severe injuries, granting priority treatment and being the first to board, facilitating the Myitkyina medical team's rapid care of the seriously wounded; yellow signified moderate injuries; green denoted light wounds, which could be scheduled last.

This system was enforced impartially within the Independent Regiment, but in the eyes of these foreign allies, it seemed like a loophole to exploit.

Clearly, it wasn't that easy.

Li Laosan was actually feeling very hollow inside. He wasn't injured at all; the long forced march had simply worn his bones to the point of breaking. Seeing a big truck to ride in and Canned Beef to eat, his petty greed and laziness surged, and he pretended to be limping to slip aboard for a comfortable retreat.

The two's argument grew louder, and a circle of people quickly gathered around.

At that moment, Hu Dali strode over. His whole body was muscular; beneath his uniform, Hu Dali was as sturdy as a bull.

"What's happening?" Hu Dali's voice rang out like a booming bell.

Li Laosan, seeing the situation, instantly lost his fierce momentum. He usually only bullied honest folk, putting on a tough front while actually being as timid as a mouse. Facing the tall, imposing, murderous officer before him, he dared not act rashly.

"N-nothing... nothing..." Li Laosan stammered.

"Did you not hear me clearly?" Hu Dali glared at him, his gaze like a blade, "Take off your shoes and let my men examine your wound. If you're truly injured, I'll carry you onto the truck! If not, you're hijacking the lifeline of the seriously wounded! Otherwise, get out quickly and rejoin your unit!"

Li Laosan trembled with fear and dared not mention boarding again. He was just an ordinary Big-Head Soldier; before a true iron‑blooded soldier, his petty schemes were meaningless. Soon, Li Laosan fell silent, hung his head, and slipped out of the crowd.

Not long after, the Company Commander of Li Laosan's unit arrived, saw the scene, and without a word gave him two ear slaps, berating him as he dragged him away. This disgraceful sight was a stain on the unit!

The incident quickly reached Du Yuming's ears. The Expeditionary Force's deputy commander shook his head helplessly and said only, "Shameful."

But this also indirectly proved that the discipline of this Independent Regiment truly surpasses that of ordinary units.

After dealing with the incident, Hu Dali waved his hand and barked loudly, "Move! Move! Arrive at Myitkyina early so the wounded can receive treatment sooner! Don't dawdle here!"

The engines roared, and the convoy set off again.

Meanwhile, as soldiers boarded, the Independent Regiment's fighters distributed large amounts of supplies to the main Expeditionary Force awaiting retreat. Those were premium items: American‑made Canned Beef, milk chocolate, and even cola, which already existed in this era.

As for Compressed Biscuit, none were handed out this time.

This wasn't Jiang Anguo being stingy; it was a considered decision.

The reasoning was simple: a group of soldiers on the brink of collapse, starving to the point their chests pressed together, their bodies extremely weak. Consuming a large amount of dry, hard Compressed Biscuit in a short time without enough water would easily cause severe gastric bloating or even stomach expansion. In that state, not only marching becomes impossible, but even moving is impossible, hastening death.

The crucial issue was the fear that these soldiers, drinking water from the roadside, would be even more prone to malaria.

Marching through tropical rainforest consumes massive amounts of water, sugar, and salt. Canned Beef replenishes salt and protein, chocolate provides high calories, and cola—a sugary drink—was practically a divine substance at that moment. It could quickly restore the body's urgent need for sugar, revive stamina, and even boost morale to some extent.

Of course, these supplies were only for emergencies. Jiang Anguo had prepared more food and strategic supplies in Myitkyina. However, sustaining the Fifth Army headquarters and the entire Expeditionary Force's operational needs long‑term could not rely on him alone, as he had no obligation to continuously supply the Expeditionary Force; thereafter it still depended on the American aid transport line.

This time, Hu Dali mobilized thirty identical Dodge trucks. If only transporting combat personnel, two squads would be more than enough, even enough to squeeze in an additional reinforced company. But accounting for the wounded needing to lie flat or sit comfortably, plus the space taken by stretchers, the transport capacity was greatly reduced.

Nevertheless, this still moved three to four hundred soldiers. This was the second batch of wounded transported by the vehicles; the first batch consisted entirely of severely injured.

In the past two days, patients whose illnesses had flared due to the harsh environment—malaria, with vomiting and diarrhea—were truly life‑threatening.

There was no way around it; Non-combat Casualties were too severe. Whether on Du Yuming's side or Jiang Anguo's troops, they all suffered under this green hell. Malaria haunted everyone like a ghost, Poisonous Snake and poisonous insects lurked beneath every leaf, along with all sorts of bizarre tropical diseases, constantly devouring soldiers' lives.

More importantly, most Expeditionary Force soldiers came from inland Huaxia, never having undergone professional training for tropical rainforest combat, and were hastily thrust into Myanmar warfare. They had no immunity to the local microbes and insects, and knew nothing of the climate.

Fortunately, in this relocation, the precious female soldiers of the Expeditionary Force—nurses and radio operators—mostly survived and safely retreated to Myitkyina.

The resilience these women displayed amid the fire of war was equally admirable.

With the mass evacuation of the wounded, plus the replenishment of food and energy, the main Expeditionary Force's retreat accelerated noticeably. The once moribund unit finally regained some vitality.

If Du Yuming were told now that the Japanese Army pursuers trailing relentlessly behind, fewer than a thousand strong, were that few, who knows whether he'd be so angry he'd vomit blood or simply turn back and crush that small Japanese force?