Bright Sword: The Flowers of War

Chapter 294 Don’t be surprised

Li Yunlong was stunned for a long time. He pointed to the endless line of trucks, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, as if he could hardly believe his ears.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he asked again, "You mean you're going to take us to Taiyuan by car?"

"Yes!"

Zhang Youshan's tone was very certain, carrying an unquestionable confidence.

"Great!"

Li Yunlong slapped his thigh hard, making a crisp "smack" sound.

He excitedly grabbed Zhao Gang's arm, his face flushed with excitement: "Old Zhao, did you hear that? With a car, we no longer have to walk to Taiyuan. And these four wheels are much faster than our two legs!"

"I am very sure of that."

Zhao Gang was also stunned by Su Yaoyang's grand gesture, but he remained more reserved, simply nodding with a smile. What he saw was not just speed, but also the powerful mechanized strength of the Shanxi militia that it represented.

"Then what are we waiting for? Get the soldiers on the vehicles quickly!"

Li Yunlong was an impatient man who didn't want to waste a single second.

He yelled at Zhang Dabiao, who was standing not far away, "Zhang Dabiao... what are you standing there for? Hurry up and tell your troops to assemble. Damn it, line up and get in the car! If anyone dawdles, I'll kick their ass!"

At the command, the entire Independent Regiment erupted in cheers. The soldiers burst into thunderous applause, their earlier fatigue vanishing instantly.

They excitedly rushed towards the steel behemoths, some even curiously touching the cool car bodies and tapping the thick tires, their faces beaming with childlike joy.

Under the command and organization of commanders at all levels, the soldiers, carrying their rifles and ammunition boxes, climbed one by one into the spacious truck bed. Although the scene was noisy, it was orderly...

As night fell, the massive convoy of trucks, like a giant steel dragon, bumped and jolted along the rugged dirt roads of North China.

The car headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the undulating road ahead and the dust billowing into the air.

The journey from Wutai County to Taiyuan is about 400 li (approximately 200 kilometers).

When they first set off, the convoy was traveling on a smooth cement road that Su Yaoyang had ordered to be built. The soldiers were in high spirits, clinging to the truck beds, watching the scenery rushing past with curiosity, and enjoying the unprecedented high-speed maneuver.

However, after the convoy passed the boundary marker of Xiangding County, the flat and wide cement road came to an abrupt end, replaced by a dirt road riddled with potholes from the oxcarts and artillery.

Comfort instantly turned into torture.

The entire truck bed was like a sieve being grabbed and shaken wildly by an invisible hand. With each bump, the soldiers inside were thrown up and then slammed down.

The chassis groaned under the strain, and a chorus of suppressed groans and low curses erupted from the truck bed.

Many Eighth Route Army soldiers who had never had this kind of "experience" felt nauseous and their faces turned as grayish-yellow as their uniforms.

Some people couldn't hold back any longer and clung tightly to the side of the carriage, vomiting up their dinner.

At the rear of one of the trucks, Li Yunlong, the commander of the Independent Regiment, was undergoing one of the most severe tests of his military career.

"Old Li... are you sure you can handle it? If not, go sit in the front row."

Zhao Gang, supporting the swaying carriage, approached Li Yunlong, who was leaning against the railing at the rear of the carriage, and offered words of comfort with concern.

At this moment, Li Yunlong's face, which was usually ruddy and had a thunderous roar, was as white as a sheet of paper.

"I...I can do it...ugh..."

Just as Li Yunlong was about to say something polite, a strong feeling of nausea rushed to his throat. He couldn't hold back any longer and abruptly turned his head away.

With a "whoosh," he vomited out all the remaining acid and bile in his stomach, leaving a thin trail of liquid in the dust kicked up behind the car.

Seeing his partner vomiting so badly he couldn't even straighten his back, Zhao Gang felt both annoyed and amused.

He never imagined that Li Yunlong, who was usually so energetic and strong on the battlefield, would suffer from such severe motion sickness.

When they first set off, on the cement road, this guy was still smugly bragging that the militia's trucks were better than the Japanese soldiers'.

But once he left Xiangding County and stepped onto the bumpy dirt road, motion sickness immediately struck him.

But this guy was too proud to admit his mistake and insisted on showing his sportsmanship. He gave up the relatively stable driver's seat to a young soldier who was also prone to motion sickness, while he himself went to the most bumpy rear of the vehicle to "enjoy" the ride.

Less than half an hour later, it gloriously transformed into a "sprayer warrior," returning all the food it had eaten that day to the loess soil of Shanxi.

Regarding the issue of motion sickness, Zhao Gang had previously consulted the militia driver. The dark-skinned and robust driver, while skillfully maneuvering the steering wheel, grinned and told him that there was really no good way to deal with it; it purely depended on individual constitution and had little to do with how strong one was.

There is only one way to solve this problem: travel by car more often. As your body gets used to the bumps and jolts, your condition will naturally improve. There is no other way.

Looking at Li Yunlong, who was vomiting and looked pale, lying at the back of the vehicle, and several other soldiers who were also huddled by the railing at the back of the vehicle with unpleasant expressions, Zhao Gang shook his head helplessly, feeling both annoyed and amused.

It seems that mechanized marching has both advantages and disadvantages.

The advantage is speed, the disadvantage is... Commander Fei.

However, it was indeed incredibly fast.

Zhao Gang glanced at his watch and silently calculated in his mind. If the Independent Regiment were to travel to the Taiyuan front on foot, even at the fastest pace, it would take at least three or four days.

Riding these tireless steel behemoths, they arrived at the outskirts of Taiyuan in just six or seven hours.

Through the gaps in the carriage, he could vaguely see lights flickering ahead, which was the forward position of the Shanxi militia.

Around 9:30 p.m. that night, after a period of slowing down and bumping, the large convoy finally slowly drove into a place called Zheyang Town.

This place was clearly a heavily guarded frontline command post. The town entrance was fortified with multiple checkpoints, and there were militia soldiers patrolling back and forth everywhere, looking smart and well-equipped with solemn expressions.

The trucks came to a stop one by one in an open field, and the roar of the engines gradually subsided, leaving only the crackling sound of the engines cooling down.

"We've arrived... Everyone, get off the bus!"

As the rear railing was slammed down with a bang, the drivers' rough shouts rang out, carrying far into the quiet night.

The feeling of finally having their feet on solid ground was like a pardon to the soldiers on the vehicle.

They helped each other up and jumped out of the truck bed one by one.

Those who didn't get carsick were okay, but they were shaken so much their bones felt like they were going to fall apart.

Li Yunlong, who had been dizzy the whole way, felt his legs go weak as soon as his feet touched the ground. He swayed a couple of times and almost fell to the ground, but fortunately Zhao Gang, who was next to him, caught him quickly.

"Fuck..."

Li Yunlong, supporting himself on his knees, took a deep breath of the cold, gunpowder-scented air. His face was still pale, but his eyes had regained some of their luster. "We've finally arrived... This journey was more tiring than fighting the Japanese with bayonets!"

"Haha... Old Li... You guys are here too?"

No sooner had Li Yunlong finished complaining than a familiar voice rang out from under the lights not far away.

He and Zhao Gang turned their heads together and saw a figure wearing the same Eighth Route Army uniform walking towards them with a loud laugh. The man was tall and had a steady gait. Who else could it be but Ding Wei, the commander of the New First Regiment?

Seeing Ding Wei's teasing smile, Li Yunlong, who had been standing slumped like a weakling, suddenly found a surge of strength, pushed away Zhao Gang's hand that was supporting him, straightened his back, glared at Ding Wei, and said, "Old Ding... when did you arrive?"

"It didn't take long."

Ding Wei walked up to Li Yunlong, not rushing to answer, but instead circling him halfway, scrutinizing him from head to toe with the look of someone eyeing a rare and precious object. Finally, unable to contain his laughter, he said cheerfully:
"Old Li, Old Li, I never thought you, Li Yunlong, had this side to you. Getting carsick? Tsk tsk, it seems I have to find a chance to tell Old Kong and Blind Cheng about your heroic deeds today, so they can know how our Commander Li, so majestic, vomited all the way!"

"Old Ding, you dare?"

Upon hearing that this embarrassing incident was to be publicized, Li Yunlong immediately became anxious, his face turning red, whether from anger or motion sickness, it was unclear.

Ding Wei raised his chin triumphantly: "What do I have to be afraid of? If you talk to me like that again, believe me, I'll send a telegram to Lao Kong right now."

Don't forget, I now own three radio stations, I can broadcast whenever I want!

"Hey...you...you believe me or not, once I've recovered, I'll come find you and give you a good sparring match!"

Li Yunlong was so angry that his finger was trembling as he pointed at Ding Wei, but his legs were still weak, and he had no intimidating power at all.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Ding Wei curled his lip dramatically, his face full of disdain. "We've been comrades-in-arms for so many years, do you think I don't know what level you're at?"
I could take you down in just a few punches and kicks!

Two old comrades-in-arms, whose combined age was over sixty, started exchanging barbs at the assembly point on the eve of the great battle, in front of soldiers from both sides.

Zhao Gang, standing nearby, could only shake his head helplessly at the sight, but a smile played on his lips. He was already used to the way these two old comrades got along.

Although the two often bickered, the title of the "Iron Triangle of Northwest Shanxi" was well-deserved; Li Yunlong, Kong Jie, and Ding Wei had a very good relationship.

Ding Wei's teasing of Li Yunlong was probably an attempt to divert his old comrade's attention and help him get back into form as quickly as possible.

(End of this chapter)