My own war game

Chapter 211 Transfer
Bang! An unknown flying insect was slapped to death. Charles opened his palm and found it was a mess.

"Damn it! These bugs are sucking my blood!" The American reporter shook his hands in disgust and picked up the kettle beside him to flush the water, but He Chi snatched it away.

"Dude, you've been having a good time in Los Angeles for too long. Drinking water is in short supply now and we can't waste it like this." He Chi threw the kettle to Fan Guo Xiaojiro, reached out and tore off a wide leaf and handed it to Charles.

Charles barely wiped his palms with the leaves and found that his hands turned green again. "God, this is disgusting, why don't we stay in the village, at least there is a well there."

"Unless you want to be captured by the Japanese for beheading practice, it is not impossible that you will be handed over to new recruits for bayonet practice if you are unlucky. In that case, you probably won't be killed once, and then you will have to suffer repeatedly." He Chi held a few long branches in his hands and used a military uniform as a sunshade.

They are setting up a simple temporary camp in the jungle.

According to historical data, the Japanese garrison in the Philippines during this period should have been more than 60 troops, which was only enough to garrison cities and ports. However, there were still more than Japanese expatriates in the Philippines at that time, including several militarily trained "Japanese Volunteer Corps". These guys were usually scattered in the countryside and acted as tentacles of the Japanese army to control the area.

The small village had a water source, and a Japanese reclamation team would soon move in, so they couldn't stay there for long.

"Sir, please use this." Iikuni Kojiro handed over something, and He Chi took it in his hand and found that it was a piece of waterproof tarpaulin that could keep out the rain.

He Chi glanced at the other party and said jokingly, "Goshin Daikiri?"

"Ha! Gomi-no-Kiri!" Iikuni Kojiro answered with his waist bent. Ever since he danced that dance yesterday, he became more respectful to He Chi.

"Very good!" He Chi nodded with satisfaction, took out a broken rice ball from his backpack and threw it to Xiaojiro, and gave him a glass of water. "Eat it quickly, we have to start work soon."

"Ha! Kojiro won't let you down." The private bowed again, took the rice ball and ate it carefully.

Kojiro ate very carefully and was not willing to waste anything. If a grain of rice fell on the ground, he would pick it up, blow on it, and eat it, and finally lick his fingers clean.

"Okay," He Chi patted his pants and stood up, "We should start working."

Upon hearing the order, Private Kojiro quickly swallowed the last bite of food and walked ahead alone.

Half an hour later, the group arrived at a main road next to the jungle.

He Chi threw him a fruit whose name he couldn't tell. Xiao Jiro took it in his hand and squeezed it, and the juice that was the color of blood flowed down his forehead.

Kojiro lay motionless beside the road, as if he had really turned into a corpse.

The clouds in the sky flew by, the morning sun shone on the private's body, and insects crawled over his exposed skin, but the private remained motionless.

"It's a shame if this guy doesn't become an extra." He Chi muttered in a hidden place, and then closed his mouth.

Someone is coming on the road.

It was a four-man Japanese squad, and the four men were advancing along the road. The leading sergeant quickly spotted Kojiro lying on the side of the road. When they walked over to check, the two men in the front row suddenly felt their feet sink.

Aaaah!!!! Aaah!!!!

The two men screamed loudly, and blood was dripping from their calves below.

In the trap, which was only wide enough for one foot, the simple flaps on both sides were filled with rusty iron pieces and wooden spikes, which instantly penetrated the soles and calves of the two people through the potential energy of inertia. This simple individual trap modeled after the one used in the Vietnam War could make the front-row scouts lose their combat effectiveness in an instant.

As expected of the old Japanese soldiers of 1941, when someone was injured, the remaining two did not go to treat their colleagues, but quickly stood back to back, looking for cover to prevent being attacked. However, at this time, He Chi had already touched the nearby with a bayonet and suddenly attacked!
Blood splatters!

A minute later, Iikuni Kojiro got up from the ground, looked at the four people who had stopped breathing on the ground, and was extremely glad for his choice.

If he had made a little noise in advance, or given any warning to his companions, he would undoubtedly have become the fifth corpse on the ground.

"Well done." He Chi praised casually, then dragged the four bodies into the jungle and began to loot their supplies.

It was difficult to find dry firewood suitable for making a fire in the tropical jungle, and He Chi and his men did not dare to light a fire for fear that the thick smoke would attract the enemy. Therefore, everyone ate the simple military rations and canned red bean soup that they had captured.

Charles bitterly handed down a portion of military rations in a can of red bean soup, then frowned and complained, "To be honest, I thought the food in the US military was bad enough, but now it seems that my imagination is not rich enough."

"You have to know that in my hometown, the rice that you find hard to swallow is a rare delicacy in the eyes of soldiers." He Chi said while fiddling with the sergeant's sword.

"What do soldiers in your hometown eat?" Charles was aroused by the reporter's curiosity.

"Coarse grains mixed with sweet potatoes and pickled vegetables, that's all most of the time," said He Chi, spreading his hands.

"God, if I was given this kind of food, I would probably surrender in less than a week, hiss~~~" Charles said halfway, with a painful expression on his face, "Damn, my feet~"

Charles's boots were pulled off, and a smell like that of spoiled pickles wafted out.

The American reporter had multiple ulcers on his feet, and the fluid that flowed out had stuck his socks into pieces.

He Chi took out a bag of strange little pills from his pocket, crushed them into powder and applied them to the American's feet. He said, "The air here is too humid and the fungus is very active. I can only give you a simple treatment. You still need to find a dry place to recover."

"God, it's only going to get wetter in here."

"Yeah, we have to think of a solution." He Chi took back the medicine in his hand and began to think. It's not just Americans who are affected by this environment. He himself will also be affected by this harsh rainforest environment over time.

If you start to get sick, everything will take a turn for the worst.

"Charles, it looks like we have to consider moving to another place," He Chi said to the American.

"Where can we go in another place?"

"Port Mariveles" He Chi drew a map of the Bataan area with the sketch pen in his pocket and pointed to a location on it.

"There is a large city there, suitable for hiding for a while. If we are lucky, we can also try to find a small boat."

"Hey, man, although I don't know much about military affairs, it will be easy for us to be discovered if we travel like this, right?" Charles questioned.

"That's right, so we need a little disguise and a suitable reason." He Chi tilted his head and looked at the tall American, then asked

"What do you think of the excuse of taking prisoners?"

(End of this chapter)