Chapter 24: War, Let It End in Our Generation!

Jiang Anguo held a pointer and then wrote and drew on the blackboard.

"Now I give you a task: tomorrow morning, compile the Census of Native Places for all soldiers, whether injured or seriously wounded, must be recorded."

"You can manage that, right?" Jiang Anguo said to the people below.

Everyone nodded.

"Sir, what is the purpose of this Census of Native Places?" someone asked.

"Next time, remember, before speaking, shout 'Report'." Jiang Anguo said to that soldier.

"Yes, sir."

"The native place—if one day you die on the battlefield, it allows your family to be found; without it, you have no roots," Jiang Anguo said.

Everyone fell silent for a moment; all present were educated.

"Report, sir."

Jiang Anguo nodded, "You speak."

"Are we also going to the battlefield?"

"What is your name?" Jiang Anguo asked.

"Sir, I am Chen Jingrun, a Shanxi native," Chen Jingrun said loudly; it was evident that after those two meals, everyone's stamina had largely recovered.

"Chen Jingrun, that's a good name, and Shanxi is a good place; you're right. We will go to the battlefield, but not now. At present, looking at you, are you a group of soldiers? Even fighting the Japanese Devil would be hard, let alone fighting bandits," Jiang Anguo described aptly.

Everyone looked like they wanted to laugh but dared not.

"Alright, stop holding back, laugh. I don't have that many rules here."

Hearing Jiang Anguo say that, everyone's mouths finally curled into smiles.

"You have probably seen it: after today's training, I will distribute weapons and equipment to you. Before that, after each day's training, you must spend an hour teaching everyone to recognize characters, starting from the most basic. I just counted—you have 45 people, and we have roughly 1,200 plus here; each of you must lead about thirty others."

Meng Fanle, also a senior Intellectual, naturally sat below listening.

"For example, starting with everyone's names; later I will distribute weapons, and you must teach the soldiers some simple parameters, which I will explain in detail later."

"My demands aren't high: start by learning five characters each day. Anyone who can't learn them, you record them for me; the next day's mantou will be one fewer. From now on, you are all teachers. As for personnel allocation, when we assemble tomorrow, I will assign you," Jiang Anguo continued.

The general matters were already concluded.

"Alright, disperse," Jiang Anguo clapped his hands and let everyone leave.

Intellectuals are crucial; Artillery, Tank Soldier, and Pilot all need knowledge, while Big-Head Soldier can only become infantry.

The ten Captains Jiang Anguo previously selected weren't chosen solely for their physical strength; in a setting like Chanda, those who still have stamina show they eat and live decently, indicating a certain cleverness that lets them survive here.

Counting everyone, another important factor—Jiang Anguo thought, since we're heading to Myanmar for combat, we might need Tanks; if we don't know whether these people have the talent to drive a Tank, that's a problem.

If that time comes, the Tanks will be just scrap metal, and there are also Transport Vehicles. Though cars seem simple in later eras, on the Huaxia Battlefield today, as far as Jiang Anguo knows, only Kang Ya can drive one, because of a camp where he learned Kang Ya could drive a vehicle.

He doesn't know how this kid previously encountered a vehicle in the logistics camp; vehicles are simple these days—gear shifting—but you first have to learn to drive, right?

Some people can't even tell left from right; letting them drive would be pointless.

Nanyang Chinese support Huaxia not only with money, weapons and equipment, but also with the most important people—Intellectuals, drivers, and pilots; a large portion of them are Nanyang Chinese.

Meng Fanle didn't leave; after delivering dinner to Xiao Zui, he ran back, feeling that this officer was no ordinary person, but someone who does great things.

"Camp Commander," Meng Fanle said.

"What is it, something?" Jiang Anguo turned, saw it was Meng Fanle, and asked.

Meng Fanle shook his head, thought for a moment, then said, "Camp Commander, are we really going to Myanmar?"

He finally asked the question he had been wanting to ask.

Jiang Anguo walked to the fire pit, looked at the stars, and asked, "Meng Fanle, are you afraid of death?"

Meng Fanle nodded; he feared death, feeling that dying would be meaningless, and everyone in the camp feared death.

Jiang Anguo didn't even look at him. "You fear death, I fear death, but the war must end in our generation. Do you still want your sons and grandsons to go to war again?"

Jiang Anguo truly feared death; in his previous life he had only killed chickens and ducks, and that was when he was a child. As an adult he never lifted a blade; as a child he was reckless, slashing with a single stroke.

But now he faces Japanese who are less than beasts; Jiang Anguo dares to fire a gun, yet he also fears death.

"Each generation has its own mission; let the war end in our generation—perhaps in a few years Japan will surrender!" No one now believes the Japanese will surrender; the higher-ups are pleased that the United States finally joined the war.

But how many years this defensive war will last is unknown; the only thing is perseverance.

Meng Fanle fell into silence.

After a long while, he wanted to speak but didn't know how to begin.

The issue was too heavy, truly too heavy.

"If you want to quit now, it's too late. I'll have Lei Ao first fix your leg; with that leg, even if you go to Myanmar, it won't help, it'll only be a hindrance," Jiang Anguo said, then stood up and walked toward his barracks.

Myanmar—Jiang Anguo must go; he will bring many people back, leading them toward final victory!

Behind him, Meng Fanle still stood in place, staring blankly at the fire until the veterinarian walked over, bringing him back to his senses.

"What's wrong?" the veterinarian asked. The veterinarian was a warm-hearted old man, known throughout Chanda.

Meng Fanle said, "Nothing."

Meng Fanle stared at his leg; if it were crippled, would he not need to go to the battlefield? A wounded soldier requires two soldiers to care for him, so injuring a soldier might be more effective than killing one outright.

He also thought, if his leg healed, would he still have to go to the battlefield? The question was truly contradictory.

Meng Fanle reflected again on the Camp Commander's words: indeed, each generation has its mission; the war should end in their generation. He looked at the sky, the stars seemed a bit brighter.

Perhaps at this moment, he understood something.

ps: The previous buildup was way too long; with the current style, it would basically be passed.