You were tasked with guarding the Sihang Warehouse, and you brought out a Tiger tank?

In the wilderness along Jingpu Road in Jiangbei.

The cold wind howled, whipping up the withered yellow grass.

But at this moment, this once desolate land is bustling with activity, and the endless military tents stretch as far as the eye can see.

Countless bonfires dispelled the chill of the winter night, and steaming rice porridge simmered in large pots.

The main force of the Provisional 8th Army, along with tens of thousands of civilians and friendly troops who had been evacuated, finally set up camp before nightfall.

Inside the central command tent, the lights were on.

Lin Feng had just put down his rice bowl and hadn't even had time to wipe his mouth when the guard came in to report:

"Commander, Zhang Bingwen, deputy commander of the 112th Division, Wei Zhen, former commander of the Huangshan Fort, and several other naval officers request an audience."

"Let them in."

Lin Feng stood up and straightened his military uniform.

Soon, a group of officers, dressed in tattered clothes and reeking of gunpowder, filed in.

Leading the way was Zhang Bingwen.

The man from Northeast China had red eyes. As soon as he entered the door, without saying a word, he bowed deeply to Lin Feng, bending his waist to a ninety-degree angle.

"Commander Lin, I, Zhang Bingwen, on behalf of the remaining 3,800 brothers in the division, thank you for saving our lives and for our camaraderie."

Wei Zhen and the others behind him also saluted, their expressions solemn.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Lin Feng quickly stepped forward to help Zhang Bingwen up:

"Old Zhang, we're brothers who've fought side by side and shed blood together. There's no need to be so polite."

Zhang Bingwen straightened up, but instead of sitting down, he pulled out a crumpled telegram from his pocket, his hands trembling slightly.

"Commander... to be honest, we are now... like orphans."

His voice was filled with endless bitterness and sorrow:

"I just received a telegram from the Military Commission."

Given the heavy casualties suffered by the 112th Division, and the fact that our Commander Huo is seriously injured and unable to perform his duties...

The higher command decided to disband the 112th Division.

"What?!"

The other officers in the tent were stunned.

Although everyone knows that ragtag troops are disliked, this is still on the battlefield. They just finished a rearguard action, and they turn around and cancel their unit designation? This is just too disheartening!

Zhang Bingwen gave a bitter laugh:

"The telegram made it sound very nice, telling us to break through the encirclement and return to Nanjing on our own to accept further reorganization."

But I know exactly what's going on in my mind.

Because of what happened back then, our Northeast Army was a thorn in the side of that man in Nanjing.

He longs to tear us apart, drink our blood, and completely digest us.

The so-called reorganization was just disbanding; it meant scattering the brothers and throwing them into various units as cannon fodder.

At this point, Zhang Bingwen suddenly raised his head, his gaze fixed intently on Lin Feng:

"Commander Lin."

You once said in Jiangnan that once someone entered the Provisional 8th Army, they would become your sworn brothers.

Does that statement still stand?

Looking at the man who had been driven to the brink of despair, Lin Feng was filled with mixed emotions.

Back in the Northwest, the Young Marshal played a pajama mountain dance party for them, which made the Northeast Army the target of their jealousy. They seized the opportunity to disband the Northeast Army.

But Lin Feng didn't care about that.

Rather, this makes his recruitment of these Siberian tigers even more legitimate.

"It counts, of course it counts."

Lin Feng's voice was resolute and resounded throughout the entire tent:

"As long as I, Lin Feng, have a bite to eat, I will never let my brothers go hungry."

What kind of bullshit is this about canceling the serial number?

In my hands, you are the 1st Independent Division of the Provisional 8th Army!

You, Zhang Bingwen, are the division commander.

"Thump."

Zhang Bingwen could no longer control himself. He knelt on one knee, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and roared:

"Commander."

From this day forward, my life, Zhang Bingwen's life, belongs to you.

Our more than three thousand brothers in Northeast China follow Commander Lin's lead without question.

"Wherever you point, we'll attack, without hesitation!"

With Zhang Bingwen taking the lead, Colonel Wei Zhen, who was standing next to him, also stepped forward.

"Commander Lin."

Wei Zhen gave a standard military salute:

"Our river defense fortress troops, after being bombed by artillery and losing our positions, are now just a bunch of homeless, lonely ghosts."

Along the way, I saw that your troops were well-disciplined and obeyed orders; they were a real force that fought the Japanese.

I, Wei Zhen, have no other skills, except for playing with cannons.

"If you don't mind, I'll bring my several hundred men and join you."

"Welcome, a warm welcome."

Lin Feng was overjoyed; all his hard work had paid off.

The seeds planted earlier have finally blossomed and borne fruit.

He stepped forward and took Wei Zhen's hand.

This is a professional fortress artillery commander, my precious darling.

Then, Lin Feng keenly noticed that behind Wei Zhen, there were several colonels and lieutenant colonels wearing dark blue naval woolen uniforms. Although they also saluted, their faces showed some hesitation and restraint.

Most of these people were instructors at the Thunderstorm School or scattered naval officers.

They are technical elites with high aspirations.

Although they were grateful to Lin Feng for saving their lives, they felt somewhat disappointed that these proud young men were following an army "warlord."

After all, the navy is an aristocratic military branch; if you don't have a ship, you become an infantryman.

Isn't that an insult to civility?

Lin Feng saw through their intentions.

"Gentlemen."

Lin Feng smiled slightly, his gaze sweeping over the naval officers:

"I know that you are all elites in the navy, and you are into high technology."

Sending you to take rifles and crawl into trenches is a waste of your talents.

The officers' expressions softened slightly, thinking that Commander Lin was a sensible man.

"Perfect timing, the moonlight is lovely tonight."

Lin Feng changed the subject and made a "please" gesture:

"Everyone has just crossed the river and hasn't had a chance to properly see the scenery on the north bank of the river."

Why don't you come with me for a walk along the river?

I have some small gadgets that I'd like to ask the experts for their opinion.

The group exchanged bewildered glances, unsure of Lin Feng's intentions, but they still followed him out.

-----

The wind was biting cold by the river.

The turbid river water lapped against the rocks on the shore.

Lin Feng led everyone to a makeshift pier, picked up a walkie-talkie, and calmly issued a few orders.

"Boom!"

Then, a deep and powerful engine roar suddenly came from the dark river.

Several beams of searchlight beams instantly pierced the night and illuminated the river surface.

Amidst the astonished gazes of the naval officers, a fleet slowly emerged from the darkness.

Despite the fierce battles, only 8 of the original 10 speedboats remain.

The armor of the LCS fire support boat was riddled with bullet holes, and some parts were even blackened by smoke.

The PT boat also bears traces of repairs on its hull, medals left from the war.

but.

They still float, still stand tall.

The 76mm main gun on the bow of the LCS fire support boat is raised high, while the Bofors and Oerlikon cannons on the deck gleam with a cold metallic luster under the searchlights.

Sailors in naval uniforms stood in formation on the deck, their postures as upright as pine trees.

"This...this is..."

A naval lieutenant commander who had initially been somewhat reserved now had his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets and his mouth agape enough to fit an egg.

He rushed to the pier, his hands trembling as he touched the cold steel plate of the LCS ship's hull, as if caressing a lover's skin.

"An all-steel structure...this firepower configuration...my God!"

For a naval officer, nothing drives them wilder than seeing a powerful warship.

Its importance is no less than that of a bachelor seeing a stunningly beautiful woman, or even his wife.

"How is it?"

Lin Feng walked behind them and crossed his arms.

"Commander Lin!"

The previously reserved lieutenant colonel suddenly turned around, snapped to attention, and saluted, his eyes burning with fervor.

"My name is Hua Zhiyan, formerly the first mate of the gunboat Yongji, and a graduate of Mawei Naval Academy."

I am willing to join the Provisional 8th Army.

"I'd do anything, even as a boatswain, as long as you let me on board."

"I'm willing too. I'm a second-term student at the Electric Torpedo School, specializing in torpedo tactics."

"And me, I can repair marine engines."

For a time, the riverside became a large-scale job fair.

These proud and arrogant technical officers were completely impressed by Lin Feng's wealth.

Lin Feng was overjoyed to see this.

These thousands of naval personnel are not just sailors.

In an era with extremely high illiteracy rates, the navy was an absolutely high-tech branch of the military.

They all have at least a primary or even secondary school diploma, and they understand mathematics, mechanics, radio, and surveying.

There are more than a thousand soldiers.

These are clearly thousands of seed instructors and thousands of technical backbones!

With them, we will never have to worry about having enough people to expand our armored forces, artillery forces, or build a larger fleet.