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Unlike B Company's relatively stable garrison period, A Company, where Su Ning was stationed, was embroiled in frequent and brutal contact battles with the Vietnamese guerrillas almost from the moment they arrived at the front lines.

The dense, suffocating jungle is no longer a scenic spot, but a green hell where deathly flames could erupt at any moment.

However, the veterans of Company A soon discovered that the new Asian soldier, Suning Gan, was unlike any of the new recruits they had ever seen.

Without the naiveté and panic of someone new to the battlefield, those dark eyes always carried an almost cold observational power, like a sophisticated instrument constantly scanning and analyzing the environment.

On their first platoon-level patrol, the team carefully advanced along a muddy path.

Jenkins, who was walking ahead of Suning, almost stepped on a cleverly disguised "Bouncing Betty" landmine.

Just as Jenkins' foot was about to land, Suning suddenly grabbed his belt from behind and forcefully pulled him backward.

"Don't move!" Su Ning's voice was deep but carried an unquestionable authority.

Everyone froze.

Su Ning slowly crouched down, carefully using his bayonet to brush away a thin layer of fallen leaves and loose soil, revealing the menacing killing device triggered by a tripwire.

After the engineers arrived and dismantled the structure, the platoon leader patted Su Ning on the shoulder, still shaken. "Well done, kid! How did you find out?"

Su Ning calmly pointed to a nearly imperceptible fresh scratch on a nearby tree. "A bit of the moss there has been scraped off, usually caused by someone's backpack scraping against it when they pass by. But the height and direction of the scratch don't match normal marching. It's more like someone squatted there and set something up, then accidentally bumped into it when they stood up."

This calm analysis left the veterans around him, who relied on experience to figure things out, speechless with astonishment.

This is not just observational ability; it is a terrifying ability to logically reconstruct environmental details.

As the number of patrols and encounters increased, Suning's "abnormalities" became more and more apparent.

Suning seemed to have an instinctive premonition of danger.

During a jungle ambush, before the Vietnamese fired their first shot, Su Ning had already shouted "Take cover!" and fired first, hitting a figure in the bushes who had just raised his gun, accurately interrupting the enemy's attack.

His shooting skills amazed everyone.

Whether it's the M16 assault rifle or the issued M1911 pistol, in Su Ning's hands, they seem like an extension of his body.

A blurry, swaying figure 400 meters away—he could kill it with a single shot after a quick aim; in chaotic firefights at close range, he could always eliminate the most threats with the fewest bullets, as calmly as if he were conducting academic calculations.

One company was ordered to wipe out a village suspected of being a gathering place for Vietnamese guerrillas.

In the jungle outside the village, Company A was suppressed by concealed firing positions from three directions, making it difficult to advance and casualties began to occur.

"Damn it! Where are their machine guns?" Company Commander Walker shouted into the walkie-talkie from behind a tree, getting covered in mud from the shells.

Su Ning crawled down to Old Walker's side, his face covered in mud, but his eyes were still clear: "Company Commander, at one o'clock, under the waterwheel, in the straw pile; at nine o'clock, behind the millstone at the village entrance, there is a tunnel exit; at three o'clock, in the middle of the trunk of that big tree that was struck by lightning, there is a camouflaged firing hole."

Old Walker looked at him incredulously: "Are you sure?"

“I observed their ballistics and tracer trajectories,” Su Ning replied briefly, while adjusting the sights on his M16. “Request suppression at the one o’clock and nine o’clock positions; leave the three o’clock one to me.”

Old Walker hesitated for a moment, but still chose to trust this young man who kept creating miracles. "Alright! All company, pay attention, suppress the one o'clock and nine o'clock positions with fire!"

Immediately, gunfire erupted.

Just as the enemy's firepower was drawn away, Su Ning took a deep breath, quickly leaned out, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

"Bang!" After a crisp gunshot, the camouflage straw bundle on the trunk of the big tree at the three o'clock position suddenly trembled, and the machine gun inside instantly fell silent.

Then, he repeated the same method, and with the cover of his comrades, he used his extraordinary accuracy to eliminate the other two firing points one by one, creating a breakthrough for the company.

After the battle, Old Walker looked at the Vietnamese machine gunner who had been shot dead by Suning and was hiding in the tree trunk, and patted Suning heavily on the shoulder. "Damn it, Gan! You were born for this damn war! I'm going to recommend you for a commendation!"

Su Ning simply wiped the guns silently, without any smugness on his face.

Looking at my exhausted comrades around me, who were filled with relief at surviving the ordeal, and the bodies of the fallen soldiers being carried away in the distance, I felt no joy at achieving merit, only a cold clarity.

The “excellence” he displayed was merely a necessary means to increase his and his brother Forrest’s chances of survival in this killing field.

The more achievements one makes, the greater one's influence will be, and in the future, one may be able to get closer to Forrest Gump, or at least have the opportunity to be transferred to a relatively safe area.

Every precise shot he made, every insight into the trap, was not just for completing the mission, but also a small but crucial survival gamble he carefully accumulated for himself and his brother in this cruel game.

The soldiers of Company A began to call him "Professor" or "Wizard," which was both an acknowledgment of his abilities and a hint of awe for the unknown.

Unbeknownst to them, this taciturn Asian soldier had already set his sights beyond the jungle before him, on a more distant chessboard concerning his future survival and development.

……

If the jungles of Vietnam during the dry season are a battlefield rife with open and covert battles, then the rainy season, which arrives from May to October each year, transforms them into a green hell that slowly erodes the body and spirit.

The sky seemed to have been punched with a hole; the rain wasn't just falling, it was pouring down. The dense curtain of rain reduced visibility to less than fifty meters, and the whole world was filled with only one sound...

The relentless, deafening roar of the torrential rain.

Suning's team, Company A, is currently mired in this muddy mess.

"Fuck this damn weather!" A soldier nicknamed "Big Guy" slapped his face hard, but the rain instantly soaked him again.

Stepping through knee-deep mud, every step felt like a tug-of-war with the earth.

"This is even more torturous than fighting the Vietnamese!"

Leading the group was Jenkins again, his rifle carefully wrapped in plastic sheeting, but he was already soaked in sweat and his lips were purple from the cold.

He turned back and spat out a mouthful of muddy water, his voice weary: "Be content! At least in this damn weather, the Vietnamese don't want to come out. Right now, our biggest enemies are fucking groins and malaria!"

Su Ning walked silently in the middle of the group, his senses highly focused, wary of potential enemy forces and also of the malice of nature.

Rainwater streamed down the edge of his helmet, forming water streaks, and his camouflage uniform clung tightly to his body, heavy and cold.

The ground beneath your feet is an even bigger nightmare. The mud is not only sticky, but also hides sharp tree roots and rocks. You have to be extremely careful with every step, or you are very likely to twist your ankle.

"Ah!" A scream came from behind. A new recruit slipped and fell into the mud.

After struggling for a while, he was finally pulled up by the people next to him. He was covered in mud and looked utterly disheveled.

"Keep formation! Don't stop!" The platoon leader's voice sounded somewhat distorted in the rain.

The rainwater seeps into everything.

It seeped into backpacks, soaking spare socks and rations to a pulp; it caused metal parts of guns to rust rapidly, requiring constant oiling and wiping; it caused radio equipment to malfunction frequently, almost cutting the company off from the outside world. Most terrifyingly, it brought moisture.

At night, unable to set up a dry camp, they could only find relatively high places and huddle in the mud and water wearing raincoats.

The cold was biting, and the sound of teeth chattering filled the air.

“Professor…” Jenkins leaned close to Suning, his voice trembling as he asked, “You…you’re smart, think of a way to…how can we get warmer?”

Using the dim light, Su Ning surveyed the surrounding terrain. "If two people sit back to back, with their raincoats covering their heads and backs, it will reduce heat loss. Taking off the outermost layer of their soaked jackets and using their backpacks to block the moisture directly from their skin will help."

This was the best he could think of based on common sense about physics.

Even so, the torment continued.

Almost every soldier developed severe groin sores (jungle sores) in their groin and armpits, with red, swollen, and ulcerated skin. Every step they took was accompanied by excruciating pain and itching from friction.

Malaria mosquitoes multiply wildly in the rainwater. Despite taking preventative medication, some people still experience shivering, persistent high fever, and delirium in the cold rain.

"Mom...I'm so cold...I want to go home..." A young soldier with a fever groaned unconsciously, his voice like a needle piercing the hearts of everyone who was awake.

Su Ning leaned against a dripping tree trunk, feeling the damp cold slowly taking away his body heat, listening to the painful groans and suppressed curses of his comrades around him.

I recall the dry, warm, and book-scented environment of the MIT library, where discussions revolved around the mysteries of the universe and the laws of physics; whereas here, only the most primitive and savage struggle for survival exists.

Wisdom and reason appear so insignificant in the face of nature's fury.

Although he could calculate the trajectory of the bullets and detect the traps, he couldn't stop this damn rain for even a second.

This torrential rain washed away not only the marks on the ground, but also the will of the people.

Unlike bullets, which are quick and decisive, this method slowly and persistently erodes the body's resistance and the mind's defenses.

Here, simply surviving has become the most arduous battle.

"Hold on," the platoon leader's hoarse voice rang out again, as if he were saying to everyone, and also to himself, "The rain will eventually stop."

But everyone knows that in the torment of this rainy season, what will be depleted first may not be ammunition, but their dignity and hope as "human beings".

Su Ning closed his eyes, letting the rain wash over his face. He had to be colder and harder than the downpour to hold onto the last embers of reason within him, waiting for the rain to stop, or...

Waiting for the next moment when the trigger must be pulled.

……

In Vietnam, a land shrouded in rain, mud, and death, if there is anything that allows one to vaguely sense the shadow of that superpower thousands of miles away, it is its logistical support system, which is so vast as to be almost absurd.

This is a kind of "luxury" that is out of place in the harsh environment of the front line, and carries the cold and efficient characteristics of industrial civilization.

Early in the morning, despite the drizzling rain, the "Eagle" forward supply point, located a few kilometers behind Company A's base and in a relatively open area, was already bustling with activity.

The massive CH-47 Chinook and UH-1 Huey helicopters roared as they landed on the temporarily flattened ground like giant steel birds. The wind whipped up by their rotors, mixed with rain and mud, lashed the faces of the ground crew.

Suning's patrol team had just completed an outer perimeter security mission and was withdrawing when they happened to witness this logistical spectacle.

The recruits stared wide-eyed as mountains of supplies were unloaded from the helicopter's belly.

“My God…” Private Miller, who had just arrived, muttered to himself as he looked at the wooden crates marked “US Army,” “Did they bring the whole Walmart here?”

Jenkins chuckled and used his dagger to pry open a supply crate he had just received, inside which were neatly stacked ready-to-eat meal kits (MCI).

He skillfully pulled out a package, glanced at the label, and said, "Look, today is a 'lucky day,' there's stewed beans and meat and... damn it, it's canned peaches again."

He complained, but quickly stuffed the can into his backpack.

The supply officer, holding a list, stood under a makeshift rain shelter. "Company A! Come and collect your goodies! Ammunition, rations, medicine, mail! Hurry up, don't dawdle!"

This is more than just food.

Su Ning calmly observed all of this, feeling equally shocked.

I saw engineers using bulldozers and steel plates to clear roads through the mud; I saw communications soldiers setting up new antennas in an attempt to stabilize the fragile communications network; I saw medical personnel unloading brand-new medical equipment and blood plasma from helicopters; I even saw special vehicles collecting and disposing of garbage.

A sergeant carrying a box of TNT walked by and shouted to the supply officer, "Hey Joe! Could you bring more mosquito nets and talcum powder next time? The mosquitoes in this godforsaken place could carry a person away!"

The supply officer replied without looking up, "Understood! A transport plane is arriving in Da Nang tomorrow. The manifest includes five thousand mosquito nets and two tons of talcum powder. Just wait!"

“Five thousand…two tons…” Miller clicked his tongue in amazement. “How did they calculate that?”

“How do you calculate that?” Jenkins scoffed as he inspected the newly issued rifle cleaning supplies. “Didn’t you hear those logistics guys bragging? They’ve calculated how much ammunition, fuel, food, and even toilet paper each frontline soldier consumes every day! They know how many men we have here, how many bullets a company-sized battle will fire, how many people will get athlete’s foot from this damn rainy season, and how many pairs of dry socks and antifungal powder we’ll need! That’s fucking math, damn, powerful, American math!”

Suning picked up a copy of the Stars and Stripes that had just been delivered; its date was only three days later than that of the United States.

He even received a letter from Kim Yoon-ji; the envelope was a little damp, but intact.

This means that, despite crossing the entire Pacific Ocean, the letter could still be delivered relatively quickly and accurately to the depths of this tropical jungle, which in itself is a testament to logistical capabilities.

“Professor, tell me,” Jenkins leaned closer and handed him a can of ice-cold Coke, which had just been transported by helicopter and was still cool to the touch, “how many procedures does this stuff go through to get from the American factory production line to my hands in this Vietnamese jungle?”

Suning took the Coke; the icy touch felt so unreal in the humid air.

This is an extremely complex logistics system. From local procurement, packaging, and transportation to ports in Oakland or Seattle, to being shipped to Da Nang or Saigon, and then distributed by the Army Logistics Command, using trucks, helicopters, and even manpower, it is finally delivered to us.

It involves systems engineering, transportation management, inventory control, etc.

Its complexity is no less than that of planning a battle.

I took a sip of Coke, and the familiar yet distant sweetness stimulated my taste buds.

This is the American way of waging war: it not only crushes the enemy with bombs and bullets, but also uses this almost luxurious and all-encompassing logistical support capability to try to replicate a miniature American life bubble on foreign soil in order to maintain the morale and combat effectiveness of its soldiers.

However, Su Ning's gaze passed over the mountain of supplies and fell upon the distant, unfathomable rainforest that had devoured countless lives.

It was clear that even if logistics could bring ice-cold cola and the latest newspapers, they could not bring dry land, safe roads, and the ultimate meaning of this war.

The robust logistical support ensured their survival, but it also acted like a massive machine that was constantly pumping more and more young people and resources into this seemingly endless vortex.

...(End of chapter)