The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

Zhao Weiguo spent a day and a half learning how to use the guns of the Second Battalion.

There were 180 guns, 35 of which were defective. This was slightly lower than the proportion in the First Battalion, but one type of problem was more serious: mismatched serial numbers. Seven guns, distributed across several companies, had serial numbers on the gun cards that did not match the serial numbers on the gun bodies.

He closed the booklet and placed it in the corner of the workbench. It was already getting dark, and the wind outside the shed howled as it blew down from the mountain ridge.

Zhao Weiguo leaned against the wall and closed his eyes for a while. His mind wasn't on the gun number; it was on Hulukou.

Staff Officer Luo had mentioned that place. The brigade headquarters had their eye on it, saying that the Japanese supply line came from the direction of Yangcun, and that going through Hulukou would save half a day's journey. It was a narrow valley, with the entrance facing south and the valley floor facing north, with steep slopes on both sides, making it easy to enter but difficult to leave.

What you hear with your ears is not as reliable as what you step on.

The next morning, Zhao Weiguo stacked the registers and gun cards on the worktable and went out of the side shed.

The road outside the camp was a dirt road; half the snow had melted, and the mud was soft and slippery underfoot, leaving a layer of yellow mud on the soles of his shoes. Zhao Weiguo walked eastward along the road without telling anyone. The cloth strips wrapped tightly around his palms were still slightly swollen at the cracks.

After walking about half a mile, there was a tire track on the earthen embankment by the roadside. The tire had driven in deeply, indicating it was the wheel track of a Japanese truck. Several empty tin cans were scattered next to the track, their metal surfaces rusted, and dried meat scraps stuck to the bottoms.

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and examined the can. The Japanese label on the lid was still there, and the production date was Showa 13 (1944). He flicked the side of the can with his finger, and the metal made a dull thud.

The direction of the blockade ditch. Japanese trucks passed by this road, leaving cans lying on the side, indicating that this was their supply route. Taking the Hulu Pass route would save half a day's journey, avoiding the long detour on the main road.

He stood up and continued walking.

On the road, they encountered two villagers who were chopping wood, carrying firewood out of the mountains. Upon seeing Zhao Weiguo, one of them stopped and looked at his military uniform.

"Young comrade, we can't go any further ahead," the villager said. "There are Japanese sentries on the other side of the blockade ditch."

"I'm not going through the blockade ditch," Zhao Weiguo said. "I'm going to Hulukou."

The villager's expression changed. "Hulukou? A few days ago, a Japanese unit of several dozen men went there."

Zhao Weiguo nodded. "I know."

The villager didn't say anything more, and carried the firewood away.

After walking another two miles, the dirt road turned into a gravel road. The gravel was newly laid, and the edges hadn't been rounded off yet, making it uncomfortable to walk on. On both sides of the road were withered grass and low shrubs, covered with snow, creating patches of white and yellow. In the distance, the mountain ridgeline was hazy gray, like an arc drawn with a pencil.

Zhao Weiguo stopped and checked the direction. The ridge ran from southeast to northwest, and Hulu Pass was located at the gap on the south side of the ridge. If the Japanese army came from the direction of Yangcun, they would have to go around the north side of the ridge by the main road, which would take half a day longer. By going through Hulu Pass, they could directly reach the flank of the Taihang base area.

That's why the brigade headquarters set its sights on this place.

The gourd opening is at the front.

Zhao Weiguo saw the entrance to the valley.

A narrow path is flanked by two steep slopes, the slopes are almost vertical, the gravel is loose, and a few clumps of withered grass grow on it. The narrowest part of the valley entrance is less than three steps wide, the ground is a mixture of gravel and frozen soil, hard and slippery when you step on it.

He stood outside the valley entrance, not in a hurry to go in.

A wind blew in from the valley entrance, carrying the earthy smell and a chill. A thin layer of ice had formed on the rocks at the valley entrance, reflecting the light. The slopes on both sides, like two walls, squeezed the sky into a slit.

Zhao Weiguo walked into the valley entrance.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the valley as they crunched on the gravel. At the bottom of the valley lay a long, narrow open space, less than forty paces wide at its widest point. The ground was a mixture of gravel and frozen soil, interspersed with large stones, some waist-high, others only the size of a fist. The gravel varied in color, the lighter shades being weathered granite, the darker ones having rolled down the slope.

He crouched down and touched the ground with his hand. The frozen soil was as hard as iron; the surface gravel was loose, but underneath it was solid. A shovel would vibrate when inserted, but it could be dug up.

In his mind, tactical simulations unfolded automatically.

A cold blue light spread through my consciousness. Contour lines were marked with thin blue lines, and the three-dimensional terrain of the valley floor emerged. The valley entrance narrowed to only three steps wide, and the steep slopes on both sides were marked with numbers: 72 degrees on the left and 68 degrees on the right. The valley floor was a long, open strip, about 120 steps from the valley entrance to the northern end of the valley floor.

The system marked a red dot at the narrowest point of the valley entrance: suitable for sealing.

Three blue dots were marked in the middle of the valley: suitable for burying mines, with moderate ground hardness and a layer of gravel that can provide natural camouflage.

Two green dots were marked in the middle of the steep slopes on both sides: shooting positions, with a field of view covering most of the valley floor.

A yellow dot was marked on the ridge: a weak point with a gentle slope, through which small groups of troops could pass.

Zhao Weiguo stared at the yellow dot for a while. The ridge was the only risk. If the Japanese army didn't go through the valley but through the ridge, the landmines would be useless. But the ridge couldn't accommodate large troops; small groups could move along, but they couldn't carry heavy weapons. If a few guns were placed on the ridge, and snipers got on them, they wouldn't be able to get through.

He stood up and walked towards the bottom of the valley.

I walked step by step, counting the steps. From the valley entrance to the middle of the valley floor, sixty-two steps. From the middle of the valley floor to the northern end of the valley floor, fifty-eight steps. A total of one hundred and twenty steps. Just like the predicted data.

He stopped in the middle of the valley floor, squatted down, and drew a line in the frozen ground with his finger. The surface layer of soil was hard, but the soil underneath was looser after he drew the line. To plant mines, the pits would need to be one and a half feet deep and one foot in diameter. Three mines, arranged in a triangle, would cover an area of ​​about sixty paces in the middle of the valley floor.

He stomped on the gravel a few times to test the hardness of the ground. Below the gravel layer was permafrost, and below the permafrost was solid soil. The landmine was buried between the permafrost and solid soil layers; the shockwave from the explosion would rise upwards, lifting the gravel layer as shrapnel.

enough.

He stood up and walked towards the north end of the valley.

The terrain at the northern end of the valley is slightly higher than the middle section, with larger boulders and several waist-high rocks standing there. Zhao Weiguo went around to the back of the rocks, squatted down, and took a look. Behind the rocks was a depression large enough for two or three people to lie down. If the Japanese troops were blown up by landmines and ran north, this could be used as a sniping position to block their retreat.

He looked at the slope again. There was a protruding rock in the middle of the steep slope on the left, covered with a clump of bushes. From that spot, the entire valley floor was clearly visible. Shooting position.

He measured the distance from the rocks to the valley floor with his hand. About forty paces. At that distance, a rifle was a bit far to shoot a person lying motionless, but enough to shoot someone who was standing and running.

He walked back from the north end of the valley floor, and stopped again at the narrow part of the valley entrance.

He crouched on a rock outside the valley entrance and drew several lines on the gravel with his hand. Valley entrance, valley floor, ridge. Three lines. If landmines were buried at the valley entrance and valley floor, rolling stones would be placed on both slopes, shooters would be positioned in the middle of the slopes, and sniper positions would be placed on the ridge and the northern end of the valley floor.

A pocket.

The prey walked in from the valley entrance, a round of landmines detonated, boulders blocked the exit, scouts on both sides fired from higher ground, and sniper positions on the ridge sealed off any possibility of detouring. No matter how many came in, they were all eaten.

He stood up, brushed the pebbles off his knees, and turned to walk back.

Reaching the narrowest point at the valley entrance, he stopped and measured the distance between the two slopes with his hand. Less than three steps. A rock about half a person's height could block it. If a landmine had exploded near the valley entrance, the falling debris and soil would have blocked most of the narrow opening.

He squatted outside the valley entrance and surveyed the terrain once more.

The mental calculations were in motion. Blue lines marked every key location: the positions of the three landmines, the location of the boulder at the valley entrance, the firing positions on the slopes on both sides, and the sniping positions on the ridge. The entire ambush plan took shape in his mind.

That's enough. We can fight.

He stood up, brushed the pebbles off his knees, and turned to walk back.

They walked a few steps and then stopped.

There was a figure on the ridge.

He stood on the ridgeline, arms crossed, in a grey military uniform, looking down. The wind ruffled the hem of his coat, but he didn't move, like a wooden stake driven into place.

Li Yunlong.

Zhao Weiguo climbed up the slope to the ridge. The slope was steep, and he used his hands to grip the cracks in the rocks as he climbed, slipping on loose stones several times. When he reached the top of the ridge, the strip of cloth in his palms had become stained dark red again.

Li Yunlong didn't turn around. He stood on the ridge, his eyes fixed on the direction of the valley entrance.

"Finished watching?"

Zhao Weiguo stood beside him, catching his breath. "Finished reading."

"How is it?"

"They can fight."

Li Yunlong didn't reply. He stared at the valley entrance for a long time. The wind rushed in from the valley entrance, stinging his face.

"The narrowest part of the valley is less than three steps wide," Zhao Weiguo said. "A rock about half a person's height can block it. The valley floor is suitable for laying mines; the ground is hard enough, and the gravel layer provides natural camouflage. The steep slopes on both sides can be used to position gunners, giving them a commanding view."

He paused. "The ridge is a weak point. The slope is gentle enough for small groups to cross, but it prevents large units from deploying and carrying heavy weapons. A few snipers can hold them off."

After listening, Li Yunlong didn't say anything. He squatted down, picked up a stone, and drew a few lines on the muddy ground of the ridge.

A circle. The valley entrance is in the south, the valley floor is in the north, and the mountain ridge is in the east.

"Pocket," Li Yunlong said.

Zhao Weiguo looked at the circle. Li Yunlong had drawn the same one he had in mind.

"Detonate the landmines first," Zhao Weiguo said. "After that, use rolling rocks to block the opening. Fire from both sides, and then lock the ridge."

Li Yunlong threw the stone away and stood up. He patted the mud off his hands and looked towards the valley entrance.

"Do we have enough ammunition?"

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

Li Yunlong turned around and walked to the other side of the ridge. After a few steps, he stopped.

"The brigade headquarters asked me to submit a proposal," he said. "You'll present it at the meeting tomorrow."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

The two walked back along the ridge. The path was difficult; the loose stones were slippery, and they had to hold onto the bushes for support. Li Yunlong walked ahead, taking large strides, the loose stones crunching under his feet. Zhao Weiguo followed behind, walking more slowly.

They didn't say a word the whole way.

When they reached the foot of the mountain, Li Yunlong paused. He didn't turn around; his voice drifted over from ahead.

"Twelve years old," he said. "I was herding cattle when I was twelve."

Zhao Weiguo did not respond.

Li Yunlong continued walking.

By the time they returned to their camp, it was already dusk. Zhao Weiguo went into the side shed, lit a kerosene lamp, and pulled out a sheet of oilcloth from his cloth bag.

He laid the oilcloth paper on the worktable and drew on it with charcoal.

Three lines.

There's a valley entrance, running from south to north. There's a valley floor, running across the middle. There's a mountain ridge, running from east to west.

The three lines form a circle.

On the line at the valley entrance, he drew two crosses indicating the locations of landmines. On the line at the bottom of the valley, he drew three crosses indicating the locations of three more landmines. On the ridge, he drew three dots indicating the locations of sniper positions. On the slopes on both sides, he drew four triangles indicating the locations of marksmen on each side.

In the middle of the circle, there are two words: Pocket.

He put down the charcoal pencil and looked at the simple diagram.

A gust of wind blew in from outside the shed, causing the flame of the kerosene lamp to flicker. The lines on the simple drawing swayed in the lamplight, as if they were alive.

He rolled up the oilcloth paper and stuffed it into the cloth bag.

For tomorrow's meeting.