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

January 23, 1951, 6:30 a.m.

Li Changhe crouched in the bunker, his ear pressed against the earthen wall.

He heard a sound. It wasn't the sound of cannons or airplanes; it was the earth shaking.

The vibration came up from the soles of my feet, a tingling, numb sensation, like countless cows running in the distance.

He looked up and peered out through the gap in the bunker.

Dust rose on the southern horizon. The yellowish-brown dust obscured half the sky. Beneath the dust lay a dark, oppressive mass.

tank.

One after another, they lined up in three columns, the dirt kicked up by their tracks tumbling to both sides like waves.

The sunlight shone on the turret, so bright that it was hard to open one's eyes.

"Goodness gracious." The staff officer next to him swallowed hard. "How much is that?"

Just as Li Changhe was about to speak, the sky above his head exploded.

It wasn't a metaphor; it really exploded. The sound was indescribable, like crushing a thousand thunderbolts and throwing them into the sky.

Li Changhe instinctively shrank his neck and looked up.

The sky was full of airplanes. High and low, fast and slow, all mixed together. Several of them trailed black smoke as they fell, crashing into a distant ravine and exploding with a loud bang.

Several planes had just swooped down when they were shot down into fireballs by those behind them. Parachutes opened one by one, but it was hard to tell whether they were friendly or enemy.

A J-2 fighter jet flew low overhead, its fuselage riddled with bullet holes and one wing had been sheared off in half.

It flew very low, and Li Changhe could see the pilot's face in the cockpit—very young, in his early twenties, with his face covered in soot.

The pilot glanced down at him.

Then give a thumbs up.

Li Changhe was stunned. By the time he reacted and tried to wave, the plane had already wobbled away and disappeared behind the mountains to the north.

He didn't know whether the young man ultimately succeeded in making an emergency landing.

The staff officer shouted from the side, "Commander, American tanks are coming!"

Li Changhe withdrew his gaze.

"Attention all battalions, prepare."

The tanks are getting closer and closer.

500 meters. 400 meters. 300 meters.

Li Changhe lay prone beside the bunker, and could now clearly see the white five-pointed stars on the turrets. M26 Pershing, weighing forty-six tons, with a 90mm gun.

Two hundred and fifty meters. Two hundred meters.

The tank drove up to the anti-tank ditch and stopped.

The trench was dug by the engineering company over three nights; it was three meters deep and five meters wide, lying across the open ground like a scar.

The driver of the first tank poked his head out, cursed, and shifted into reverse to back up.

The formation is messed up.

Just then, the Type 59 tanks lying in ambush on the flank opened fire.

Li Changhe only saw a dozen or so balls of fire suddenly erupt from behind the earthen slope on the side, followed by the sound of artillery fire. The sound of the artillery was different from that of the American troops; it was more muffled and deeper, like a fist slamming into a cotton quilt.

The first shell hit the side of the foremost Pershing. Li Changhe saw the 46-ton behemoth sway, black smoke billow from the turret base, then the entire turret jumped up, tilted to one side, and remained motionless.

"Hit!" the staff officer shouted, jumping up.

Li Changhe didn't shout. He stared at the Type 59 tanks rushing out of the bunkers, one, two, three... a total of seventy-three.

Instead of charging forward, they would swerve diagonally, targeting the sides of American tanks. After firing, they would retreat, disappear into another bunker, and then emerge to take out the next one.

The American tank crews panicked. They turned their guns to return fire, but the Type 59 tanks were too fast; by the time they aimed, they were long gone.

The shells hit the open ground, only kicking up a cloud of dust.

In three minutes, the US military lost seventeen vehicles.

In five minutes, another twelve vehicles were lost.

Within ten minutes, thirty-eight tanks lay paralyzed on the open ground; some were burning, some were smoking, and some were completely still.

The rest turned around and ran.

Li Changhe then realized that he had been clenching his fists so tightly that his fingers had turned white.

He released his grip and picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Tank battalion, well done. Back to cover and resupply."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a shrill whistle came from above.

The first batch of enemy aircraft broke through the interception.

Seventeen F-84s emerged from the clouds and swooped down toward the position. The piercing scream was ear-piercing, like someone was hammering nails into your head.

"hidden--"

No sooner had Li Changhe finished shouting than the first bomb exploded fifty meters away.

The shockwave knocked him to the ground; his ears were ringing, and he couldn't hear anything. Clods of dirt rained down on him, and his mouth was full of mud.

When he got up, everything had changed.

The Third Company's position was gone. Just gone.

The trenches, machine gun emplacements, and people that were just there a moment ago are all gone. Only a large crater remains, with a few hands, a few legs, and half a body lying on the ground beside it.

Li Changhe ran in that direction. After a few steps, his legs gave way, and he knelt on the ground.

Before the smoke and dust had even cleared, the air defense battalion opened fire.

Seventeen plumes of white smoke rose from various parts of the position, trailing flames as they hurtled toward the enemy planes that were pulling up.

The missile's infrared seeker locked onto the enemy aircraft, and no matter how the enemy aircraft rolled to get rid of it, it could not shake it off.

In the first round, nine planes were hit. In the second round, another six planes were hit.

Fifteen enemy planes crashed down, trailing black smoke, into a distant ravine, their explosions sending flames soaring into the sky.

The remaining two planes dropped all their bombs, turned around, and ran away even faster than they had come.

A cheer erupted from the position.

Li Changhe didn't cheer. He knelt beside the Third Company's position, looking at the pit.

The company commander squatted by the pit, motionless. Two people lay before him, their faces half-covered in dirt, unrecognizable. Another person was buried under the dirt, only one hand visible, the fingers still twitching.

Li Changhe rushed over and dug at the soil. He didn't feel the pain even as his fingers bled. Several other people ran over and helped dig. By the time they pulled the person out, he was already dead.

The company commander remained squatting, motionless.

Li Changhe stood up and walked up to him.

"Third Company Commander."

The company commander looked up. His face was covered in soot, and his eyes were red.

Li Changhe pointed to the pit.

"Are those your people?"

The third company commander nodded.

"How many died?"

The company commander didn't speak. He held up three fingers.

Li Changhe looked at him.

"There's a war going on. There's no time to cry."

The third company commander stood up. He wiped his face, smoothing away the layer of black ash to reveal the white skin underneath.

"clear."

He turned and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped.

"Commander, those three are from my hometown. From the same village."

Finished talking and left.

Li Changhe stood there, watching his back.

In the distance, missiles from the air defense battalion were still flying into the sky. Puffs of white smoke followed the fleeing enemy planes.

In the evening, the US heavy artillery began again.

Li Changhe had heard of many kinds of artillery in his life—Japanese, Kuomintang, and American. But he had never heard of this kind of fighting.

It's not about targeting any particular objective; it's about achieving full coverage.

More than two hundred cannons fired without stopping, shells raining down on the position. The sound was indistinguishable from one shell or a hundred, just a continuous rumbling that made people's brains ache.

Li Changhe crouched in the bunker, dirt falling from above. The chief of staff had a gash on his face from shrapnel, blood smearing half his face, but he didn't even notice, still muttering something to himself while looking at the map.

The shelling continued until 2 a.m.

When Li Changhe crawled out of the bunker, the entire position had changed.

The earthen walls were gone, the anti-tank ditches were leveled, and there were pits everywhere. Some of the pits contained people buried, with only a hand or a foot sticking out.

Some of the pits contained buried guns, their barrels sticking out at an angle.

He picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Saving Corps".

"exist."

"I want to see the position restored to normal before dawn."

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

"Commander, this..."

"Before dawn."

There was no further response from the other end.

At five in the morning, before dawn, Li Changhe stepped out of his bunker and saw the excavators and bulldozers still roaring.

The anti-tank ditch was dug again, the earthen wall was rebuilt, the shell craters were filled in, and the machine gun emplacements were re-erected.

The engineering company commander ran over, his face covered in soot and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Commander, it's fixed."

Li Changhe patted him on the shoulder.

"here you go."

The engineering company commander grinned, revealing a set of white teeth.

The second day, the third day, and the fourth day.

The air battle continued. Every day, the J-2 fighter jets engaged in dogfights with the US forces in the sky. Every day, enemy aircraft broke through the interception and dropped bombs.

Every day, the air defense battalion's missiles are flying into the sky; one batch is shot down, and another batch comes.

Li Changhe had lost track of the days. He only remembered that every morning, after the shelling, the tanks would come up. Every afternoon, the planes would come to bomb. Every night, the heavy artillery would start bombarding again. Every dawn, the engineers would work through the night to repair the positions.

Repaired, bombed, bombed, repaired. This position was bombed flat five times, and then rebuilt five times.

On the seventh day, the Third Company's position was bombed again. When Li Changhe arrived, the Third Company Commander was squatting by a shell crater, smoking.

He rolled his cigarettes in newspaper, and when he took a puff, the ash would fall onto his leg, but he wouldn't flick it off.

Li Changhe squatted down next to him.

How many people are left?

The company commander held up five fingers.

"Fifty."

"How much was it originally?"

"One hundred and sixty."

Li Changhe remained silent.

The company commander finished his cigarette and stubbed it out with his foot.

"Commander, those fellow villagers are all gone."

Li Changhe stood up.

"There's a war going on."

The third company commander also stood up.

"Know."

He turned and walked towards the position. After a few steps, he stopped.

"Commander, I've remembered what you said. There's no time to cry."

Finished talking and left.

Li Changhe stood there, watching his back.

The figure walked straight, as if nothing had happened.

On the tenth day, the air battle reached its most intense point.

There are fewer than 100 J-2 fighters left. The US military still has more than 300.

They couldn't stop them. That day, fifty-seven enemy planes broke through the interception, and bombs rained down upon them.

Li Changhe crouched in the bunker, listening to the explosions outside. A bomb landed fifty meters away, the shockwave knocking him to the ground. He got up, his ears ringing, unable to hear anything.

He picked up the walkie-talkie.

"Report casualties from all battalions!"

He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't hear anything at all. But he saw the staff officer gesturing, pointing his finger at the map, pointing in the direction of the Third Battalion.

The position of the Third Battalion was bombed flat.

Li Changhe rushed out of the cover and ran in that direction.

The road was riddled with craters. Some craters had people crawling in them, while others remained untouched. He stepped over one crater, and a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle.

He looked down. It was a young soldier, his lower body buried in the ground, his face covered in blood.

"Help...help me..."

Li Changhe knelt down and frantically dug at the soil. After a few digs, the soldier stopped moving.

He looked down. The blood had all drained away.

Li Changhe stood up and continued running.

The Third Battalion's position was gone. Everything was gone. Only shell craters remained, one after another, with guns, hats, shoes, and people beside them.

He stood there, not knowing where to go.

A voice came from behind. It was the chief of staff.

"Commander, the Third Battalion Commander... the Third Battalion Commander is in that pit over there."

Li Changhe walked over.

The battalion commander lay in the pit, his eyes open, staring at the sky. There was a hole in his chest, the blood already dried.

Li Changhe squatted down and reached out to close his eyes.

Then stand up and walk back.

He took a few steps and then stopped.

How many men are left in the Third Battalion?

The chief of staff remained silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know yet."

Li Changhe continued walking forward.

In the distance, missiles from the air defense battalion were still flying into the sky. Puffs of white smoke followed the fleeing enemy planes.

It was still dark at dawn on the fourteenth day.

Li Changhe squatted in a bomb crater, leaning against the crater wall, and dozed off for a while. He hadn't slept for three days; his mind was blank, and he couldn't think of anything.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Attention all regiments: The main force has safely withdrawn north. All units shall withdraw from their positions before dawn."

Li Changhe was stunned for a few seconds.

He stood up and looked around.

The position was a complete mess. Shell craters piled upon shell craters, the soil was all black, a burnt black. Piles of tank wreckage lay scattered about, some still smoking. Fortifications? There were no fortifications left.

He picked up the walkie-talkie.

"All battalions and companies, prepare to withdraw. Take what you can, and destroy what you can't take."

At four o'clock in the morning, the troops began to march north.

Li Changhe walked at the very back. He walked very slowly, step by step, as if each step weighed a ton.

He stopped at the edge of a bomb crater.

That was the position of the Third Company. The Third Company Commander squatted by the pit, motionless.

"The third company commander?"

There was no movement.

Li Changhe walked over, squatted down, and pushed him.

The third company commander leaned back and fell into the pit.

Li Changhe was stunned.

He looked down. The company commander had a hole in his chest; the blood had dried, and his clothes were stuck to his body, stiff and unyielding.

He recalled the air raid yesterday afternoon, and the plumes of smoke that exploded on the Third Company's position.

At that time, the company commander was still shouting, "Load the rocket launcher!"

Li Changhe squatted there, looking at that face.

His face was dirty, covered in black ash. His eyes and mouth were closed, as if he were sleeping.

He recalled the words the third company commander had said.

"Those three are from my hometown. We're from the same village."

"Commander, those fellow villagers are all gone."

"I've remembered what you said. There's no time to cry."

Li Changhe stood up.

He stood there for a long time.

Then he turned around and continued walking forward.

He took a few steps and then stopped.

"Third Company Commander, I've remembered what you said."

He didn't turn around.

The sky began to lighten.