Courtyard House: I Rely on Time-Space Trade to Build a Nation

December 25, 1950, Dayudong.

The operations room of the headquarters was filled with smoke.

The next operational plan was confirmed at the meeting this morning.

Twenty-three days have passed since the Battle of Chosin Reservoir ended.

The news that 5,500 men from the 1st Marine Division had laid down their weapons had already spread throughout the world.

But the joy of victory could not dispel the somber atmosphere in the meeting room that afternoon.

On either side of the long table sat the commanders of various corps: Commander Song, Commander Deng, Commander Hong, Commander Han... Each of them had an ashtray piled high with cigarette butts in front of them.

Commander Peng sat at the head of the table, holding a battle report in his hand, which he had been reading for a long time.

Zhao Pingan sat in the seat against the wall.

He was originally just an observer, but this afternoon, as the first item on the agenda, Commander Peng specifically instructed his staff to give the report to Zhao Ping'an so that Zhao Ping'an could give the presentation.

"Comrade Ping An," Commander Peng put down the battle report, looked up, and said, "why don't you read out the data?"

Zhao Pingan stood up and walked to the blackboard hanging on the wall. He wrote two lines of text in chalk:

A reinforced battalion of the 27th Army (interspersed)

A tank battalion of the 1st Armored Division (front view)

"Gentlemen," he said in a flat voice, as if reading a technical report.

"These are two typical combat units selected by the General Staff from the Battle of Chosin Reservoir."

Their total number of enemy casualties was roughly the same, but their permanent losses differed by a factor of eight.

He turned around and wrote the first set of data on the blackboard.

"The 3rd Battalion, 238th Regiment, 80th Division, 27th Army (Reinforced Battalion)"

"The entire battalion consisted of 623 men. In accordance with the army's allocation ratio, each battalion was equipped with 40 RPG-7 rocket launchers, each with 5 rounds of ammunition, for a total of 200 rounds."

Commander Song's brow twitched. The 27th Army was his unit.

"The mission of this battalion was to infiltrate behind enemy lines and cut off the American supply lines. They crossed the Langlin Mountains, at an altitude of 2,000 meters, with snow depths of up to 1.5 meters, making it impassable by vehicles. All ammunition and supplies had to be carried by manpower."

Zhao Pingan paused for a moment.

"They destroyed 13 enemy tanks and more than 20 trucks, and killed or wounded about 700 enemy soldiers."

The number 700 was written in chalk on the blackboard.

"And then?" Commander Song asked.

"Then the rockets ran out," Zhao Ping'an said.

"The US military concentrated its tank company to counterattack. They had no ammunition and could only resist with rifles, machine guns, and grenades."

Having run out of ammunition and food, they received orders to disperse and break out.

He wrote down the second number: permanent loss.

"212 dead and 89 seriously wounded - including those seriously wounded and disabled or killed on the way to the hospital."

A total of 281 people suffered permanent losses.

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

280 men. A reinforced battalion, more than 600 men, suffered nearly half permanent losses.

Commander Song stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray for a long time.

Zhao Pingan wrote the second set of data on the blackboard.

"1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment, 2nd Armored Division, Armored Battalion."

"10 Type 59 tanks, 20 armored vehicles, and 30 RPG-7 infantrymen attached to the mechanized units. The supply channels are unobstructed, and ammunition is replenished as soon as it is fired."

"They participated in the siege of Liutanli, the southward advance to cut off the highway, and the attack on Hagaru-ri. They destroyed 11 enemy tanks and killed or wounded approximately 700 enemy soldiers."

700, the same number as the infiltration battalion.

"Permanent losses: 23 killed, 13 seriously wounded, totaling 36."

Commander Deng took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on.

"Say it again? 36 people?"

"36 people," Zhao Pingan repeated.

He wrote the two sets of data side by side on the blackboard:

Permanent loss of enemy

Infiltration Battalion 700 281

700 Armored Battalion 36

The meeting room was quiet. The only sound was the cold wind blowing through the window.

"281 people versus 36 people," Zhao Pingan said, "that's about eight times."

Zhao Pingan put down the chalk.

"The root of the gap is not the presence or absence of equipment. The infiltration battalion had rocket launchers, they used them, and they fought very well."

The difference is: after they've used up all their energy, they can't replenish it.

"If the armored battalion is wiped out, they can be brought up from the rear. If the flanking battalion is wiped out, we can only risk our lives to fill the gaps."

silence.

Commander Peng stood up and walked to the blackboard. He stared at the two lines of numbers for a long time.

Then he turned around.

"Commander Song."

Commander Song stood up.

"How many men are left in that battalion?"

Commander Song's voice was a little hoarse: "213 people returned to their units."

"Those 281 people," Commander Peng pointed to the blackboard, "are they all up on the mountain?"

Commander Song remained silent.

Commander Peng returned to his seat but did not sit down. He rested his hands on the table, head bowed, his shoulders trembling slightly.

No one dared to utter a sound in the meeting room.

After a long time, Commander Peng raised his head.

"Comrades, we've fought for twenty years, from Jinggang Mountain to Korea. When have we ever seen anything like this?"

His voice was low, but every word was like a nail driven into wood.

"The 1st Marine Division, America's elite, surrendered to us at Chosin Reservoir."

Five thousand five hundred men laid down their weapons and marched in formation into the prisoner-of-war camp.

"Why? Because Comrade Ping An gave us tanks, gave us airplanes, and gave us iron pipes that can penetrate Pershing's steel pipes from two kilometers away."

He pointed to the blackboard.

"But that's not what I'm going to talk about today."

We are all commanders who have fought for many years, and most of us have seen countless deaths and sacrifices.

Today we're not just discussing the casualty ratio of these two battalions,

Because this is only a part of the entire campaign. Not even a small part!

"I'm referring to the infiltration battalion of the 27th Army."

"More than 600 men, carrying 40 rocket launchers, crossed mountains and ridges to infiltrate behind enemy lines."

They fought for seven days and killed seven hundred enemies. And then what?

"They've run out of rockets. No more supplies from the rear. Enemy tanks are charging in; they have no choice but to risk their lives to stop them."

"Two hundred and thirteen returned. Two hundred and eighty-one remained permanently on the mountain."

He walked to the blackboard and slapped his palm on the number "281".

"The tank battalion of the 2nd Armored Division also wiped out seven hundred enemies."

How many were they permanently killed? Thirty-six.

"Two hundred and eighty-one people versus thirty-six people—an eightfold difference!"

Commander Peng's voice suddenly rose.

"Comrades, eight times! If we provide the infiltration battalion with enough supplies, if we can ensure they can be replenished after they've fought—those 245 young men might just survive!"

He took off his hat and slammed it heavily on the table.

"Two hundred and forty-five! They also have parents, wives, and children!"

They are not just numbers, they are living, breathing people!

No one spoke in the meeting room. Only the flickering light of a cigarette butt illuminated the room.

Commander Peng walked up to Zhao Ping'an.

"Comrade Ping An."

Zhao Pingan stood up.

"My mission is to win this war!"

"Your mission is not just to make our soldiers win."

Commander Peng lowered his voice, so low that only two people could hear it.

"Your mission is to ensure that our soldiers can go home after the battle."

Zhao Ping'an looked at those bloodshot eyes.

He was an old commander who had traveled from Jinggang Mountain to Yanhe River, from Taihang Mountain to Changjin Lake.

They were entrusting him in a way he had never seen before.

Before the war, he had thought of all sorts of things, imagined heavy casualties, and considered all kinds of difficulties. After all, he had been fighting wars for so many years and was already used to it.

However, with the advanced equipment provided by Zhao Ping'an, all the disadvantages that were originally anticipated were easily reversed.

This was the first time he had discovered that sometimes, it was possible to defeat the enemy without taking lives.

Although we are never afraid of sacrifice, if we can guarantee the completion of the combat mission...

He now wants to reduce unnecessary sacrifices.

"Yes, mission accomplished." Zhao Ping'an saluted.