Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

On the north bank of the Han River, the US military defense line.

A rare moment of quiet.

After several days of being bombarded by Dongfeng rockets and suffering from nervous breakdowns, the American soldiers finally welcomed a night without the howling sound.

"Thank God, God has finally remembered to bless us."

Sergeant Miller slumped in the foxhole, unscrewed his canteen, and gulped down a large mouthful of cool water he had just fetched from the upper reaches of the Han River.

The water had a strange smell because of the purification tablets, but compared to being blown to pieces, that strange smell was like nectar.

"Hey Miller, can you smell it?"

The private next to him sniffed and leaned out with a puzzled look. "There seems to be a... strange smell in the air?"

"What's that smell? Gunpowder?" Miller wiped his mouth nonchalantly.

"No, it doesn't look like it."

The private frowned and took a deep breath:

"It smells a bit fragrant, like some kind of herb, and also has a hint of...sweetness?"

At that moment, no iconic fireball streaked across the night sky.

Only a few rockets, trailing white smoke, exploded in mid-air a few hundred meters upwind of the position.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

There was no fire, no shrapnel.

Only a large cloud of pale yellow mist, carried by the damp night wind, silently enveloped the entire American position, and at the same time fell into the gently flowing Han River.

……

A few kilometers away, the artillery position of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army.

Shen Jinghong put down his binoculars, looked at the dispersing wisps of mist, and a "kind" smile appeared on his lips.

"Chief, is this all?"

Chen Weiguo stood to the side, looking at the unresponsive "duds" with a puzzled expression. "What's inside these? Poison gas? Do we need to wear gas masks?"

"Gas mask?"

Shen Jinghong waved her hand and tossed a packet of medicine powder to Chen Weiguo:

"No need. This is good stuff, all-natural and pollution-free."

"That's our Shenzhou Bureau's biological laboratory. They extracted five tons of top-quality croton seeds and added three tons of high-concentration magnesium sulfate to carefully formulate this 'intestinal cleansing and happy water'."

Shen Jinghong grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with a chillingly unscrupulous glint.

There's an old Chinese saying: "Even a hero can't withstand three bouts of diarrhea."

"Don't Americans like to drink tap water? Don't they like to breathe in the fresh air? Tonight, I'll treat them to a good bowel movement and detox."

"Pass down the order! All troops, put on your masks—don't misunderstand, they're mainly for preventing odor!"

"Prepare for attack!"

……

On the US military position.

The calm lasted for less than half an hour.

At first, there were only a few suppressed groans.

Sergeant Miller was dozing off against the trench when he suddenly felt as if a blender running at full speed had crawled into his stomach.

"Gurgle—"

The sound was incredibly loud; even the private next to him heard it.

"Sir, are you hungry?"

"Starving my foot!"

Miller's face changed drastically, turning deathly pale. An indescribable sense of urgency, like a flood bursting its banks, surged wildly through his sphincter muscles.

That feeling came too fast and too intensely, giving people no time to react at all.

"F**k! Toilet! I need to go to the toilet!"

Miller threw down his gun, hunched over, and awkwardly darted out of the trench, heading straight for the makeshift toilet at the rear.

However, the moment he rushed out of the trench, he was dumbfounded.

Throughout the camp, there were soldiers with the same strange postures and distorted faces as him.

A long line had formed outside the toilet, and deafening noises and curses were coming from inside.

"Hurry up! Damn it! I'm going to explode!"

"My God! What the hell is this?! My stomach!"

"Get out of the way! I'm the officer! Let me go first!"

Without the usual hierarchy of military ranks, at this moment, whoever can grab a spot is the true king.

"puff--"

Finally, someone couldn't hold back any longer.

The first embarrassing sound was like toppling dominoes.

The entire U.S. military position instantly turned into a huge, open-air, smelly "excretion site".

The once impregnable defense line collapsed completely at this moment.

Machine gunners, observation postmen, and tank crewmen all threw down their weapons, clutching their stomachs, and began the most wretched moment of their lives in the snow, behind bushes, or even directly in the trenches.

combat power?

At that point, they didn't even have the strength to pull up their pants, let alone grab a gun!

My legs were weak, my face was green, and there was only one thing on my mind—to poop!

The tank crew suffered the most.

Inside an M46 Patton tank, the commander is preparing to report an unusual situation to headquarters.

Suddenly, a sharp, agonizing pain caused him to drop the walkie-talkie from his hand.

"Damn it! Driver! Stop the car! I need to get out!"

"Sir...I...me too..."

The driver's voice was choked with sobs.

The air circulation in the cramped and enclosed tank compartment is already poor. When several people experience a "biological crisis" at the same time, the scene is simply hell on earth.

"vomit--"

The loader immediately vomited.

This was the "gift" that Shen Jinghong gave them.

Not fatal, but extremely insulting.

Moreover, it is extremely effective.

An army suffering from widespread diarrhea is so weak that they can barely stand, let alone fight.

"Reporting, Chief! The enemy positions... are in disarray!"

The voice coming from the forward observation post carried a hint of barely suppressed laughter: "They...they all seem to be looking for a toilet! Some of them just...cough cough, the scene was too much for me to bear."

"good!"

Shen Jinghong's smile vanished, and her eyes instantly turned sharp as knives.

He suddenly waved his hand, pointing to the stinking battlefield:

"Strike while the iron is hot!"

"These Americans are so weak-kneed they can't even pull their pants up. It's the perfect time for us to kick them while they're down!"

"Order the 42nd and 38th Armies to launch a full-scale attack!"

"Break through their defenses! Cross the Han River!"

"Charge—!!!"

A deafening roar of battle cries suddenly erupted in the darkness.

Countless volunteer soldiers, wearing masks and suppressing their laughter (and the stench), charged towards the enemy's position like tigers descending a mountain.

The US military was in utter despair.

They were holding up their pants with one hand and trying to grab their guns with the other, but the churning in their stomachs made it impossible for them to concentrate.

Faced with the overwhelming influx of volunteer soldiers, this once-elite unit felt for the first time what true powerlessness meant.

This is not war.

This is a farce.

It was a defensive battle ruined by "poop and pee".

"Retreat! Retreat now!"

The U.S. military commander, clutching his stomach and pale as a ghost, slumped in his jeep, weakly waving his hand. "Tell headquarters...we...we've been attacked with biological weapons! This is an inhumane attack!"

The Han River defense line was like a thin sheet of paper, instantly shattered under the onslaught of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army.

Shen Jinghong stood on the high ground, looking at the defeated enemy army and listening to the faint "plop plop" sounds, and shook his head.

"Inhumane?"

He gave a cold laugh, turned around, and walked towards the command vehicle:

"Compared to the plague and cholera you've unleashed, what I'm doing is just helping you relieve yourselves; consider it an act of kindness."

"Let's go! To the Han River!"

"After this battle, let's see what face MacArthur will have left to boast in the newspapers!"