Chapter 153: Relaxation Under High Pressure

Lashu, a key stronghold in northern Myanmar.

In a single night, nearly a thousand green military tents appeared out of nowhere.

They were arranged perfectly orderly.

It was not merely a camp, but resembled a fully equipped field city. Besides the uniformly tidy soldier rest area, there were designated mess zones, field hospitals, supply depots, and a suite of logistical support units.

All of this was erected overnight by the troops stationed at Lashu at Jiang Anguo's orders. Their efficiency was astonishing; recent training in Myanmar also included tent construction.

The massive camp was built for a single purpose: to provide a recuperation site for the th Division freshly withdrawn from Xibu. Of course, accompanying them was a special unit of two thousand prisoners led by Long Wen Zhang.

When the remnants of the th Division trudged into the Lashu camp, they were met not with chaos but with orderly arrangements.

"Organize by Squad, ten per group," the soldiers receiving the th Division shouted, holding a big Horn.

Everyone in the th Division was familiar with Lashu, because they entered Myanmar from here, headed to Mandalay, then marched south to Tonggu.

First, strict disinfection was carried out at the camp entrance. The pungent chemical smell was unpleasant, but at least no gunfire could be heard here. Afterwards, soldiers of the Independent Regiment would escort the troops away in batches.

The purpose was simple: to take everyone for a wash.

For soldiers who had been soaked in Myanmar's mud and blood for over two months, this was more exhilarating than firing a gun.

Their bodies reeked of sour rot, but they were all big men, accustomed to each other.

Scalding hot water washed away sweat and mud; the blood‑stained, moldy rags of their uniforms were seized and destroyed on the spot, replaced by clean, fresh new clothes.

"Regiment Commander Long, I already feel at home," a soldier said.

Long Wen Zhang looked up and immediately replied, "Hey, don't say that; I'm not the Regiment Commander, watch your words."

Long Wen Zhang could hardly believe it was real; it felt like returning home, exactly the same, yet he knew clearly they hadn't gone home—this was Lashu.

But he didn't understand why the place had changed so drastically.

If a soldier was found with an infected wound during inspection, they would be sent directly to the nearby field hospital for treatment.

Even minor wounds required care; in Myanmar, one must be cautious everywhere.

In fact, the first batch of wounded withdrawn from the th Division—those flown in by water transport aircraft to Lashu—had already, under Jiang Anguo's arrangement and the joint efforts of Doctor Lei Ao and Li Qing, received effective treatment, and their wounds had largely healed.

More severe cases involved inflammation from wound infection, but under Jiang Anguo, medication was no issue. Here, the medical procedure was extremely standard: bullet extraction, deep debridement, suturing, then routine wound care.

The hardest part wasn't the surgery itself, but the post‑operative anti‑infection care. In this era, even a tiny infected abrasion could be fatal.

War casualties are the cheapest commodity; don't be fooled by the Little Devils' fierce charge, but when deaths occur, medical supplies are used extremely stringently!

Especially in Myanmar, cold‑heat illnesses and vomiting‑diarrhea are common among the th Division.

Only a small fraction of soldiers with internal or skeletal injuries remained critically wounded, yet they were properly placed in the severe‑illness intensive care area.

As for the gravest casualties, they had already fallen on foreign battlefields, never to return. Jiang Anguo issued a death‑defying order to the medical team: save as many as possible, and wrest everyone back from the hand of death.

……

In the mess hall, steam rose and aromas filled the air.

"Dezi, eat less! Eat slower! You've never eaten before, is it embarrassing?" Wang Wei looked at the rookie under his command, whose starving‑ghost‑reborn eating style was both funny and heartbreaking.

"Platoon Leader... *cough*... don't mind me, just eat! This meat is so fragrant! Look, Platoon Leader Liu of the second Platoon is eating faster than me!" Li De, mouth full of food, said hoarsely, still clutching a big bun.

Wang Wei looked back and indeed, several tables of officers and soldiers were buried in work, with no time for conversation. Everyone seemed as if they hadn't eaten for days, shoving food into their mouths furiously.

Look again at the goodies spread on this table!

Huge bowls of Beef stewed with potatoes, the beef cubes cut squarely, the potatoes soft and mushy; barrels of kelp‑beef‑bone soup topped with a thick layer of oil, labeled "fresh and bright"; plus stir‑fried cabbage, tomato scrambled eggs. The staples were rice and buns, enough to fill anyone.

Even the th Division, the elite force back home, never gets this treatment! Having mixed‑grain buns to fill the stomach is already good; most meals are just pickled vegetables and radish sticks.

Only Dai Anlan would occasionally dip into his own allowance to improve everyone's meals.

But a division commander, being incorruptible, doesn't have that much money to upgrade a division's rations.

Wang Wei stopped worrying; the hunger bug in his belly had already rebelled. He plopped down and quickly joined the dry‑food crowd.

After just showering and changing into fresh uniforms, with hair and beard trimmed, he felt like a new skin, much more spirited. Walking toward the mess hall, everyone's stomachs were already growling, hunger pressing their chests to their backs.

When a person suddenly relaxes after a high‑pressure, life‑or‑death combat state, the body's responses become unusually sensitive, and hunger multiplies.

Fortunately, among clothing, food, shelter, and travel, eating is the easiest solution.

In Jiang Anguo's WarSystem, resource Exchange was extremely cheap. One point could now be exchanged for 100 jin of high‑quality food, and the th Division plus those prisoners totaled only about 7‑8 thousand people. This meal cost less than three hundred points, barely over two hundred.

Such consumption was a drop in the bucket for Jiang Anguo now. He currently held a massive 597,000 points! This fortune was enough to feed all the Expeditionary Force soldiers for a long time, provided only meals were covered.

But Jiang Anguo knew that if a major battle broke out, it would be more than just a food issue. It would be best to give him some time to prepare and stockpile supplies.

After all, just the bullet consumption for a sustained fight with the current 20,000‑person scale is terrifying; even exchanging points for ammo makes one wince.

One can't eliminate an enemy with a single bullet; otherwise everyone would be a Sniper like Jiang Anguo.

ps: Mao Ze and Galand are both around 1100, don't discuss length, thanks. The rate of fire naturally can't match Galand, but look at the caliber—Galand 7.62, Mao Ze 7.92, a unit has two calibers, the keyboard gives you...