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

February 2, 1954, Lunar New Year, Annam.

Liu Dazhu sat in the jeep, staring blankly at the mountain road ahead.

The road was too narrow. The woods on both sides were so dense that no light could penetrate, and only a sliver of sky could be seen overhead.

Trucks could only pass one after another, armored vehicles could barely squeeze through, and artillery had to be pulled by mules.

The accompanying staff officer leaned over and said, "Commander, this terrain... if someone is lying in ambush, we won't even have a place to turn around."

Liu Dazhu didn't say anything, but simply pointed to the back of the command vehicle.

It was a jeep, which looked no different from an ordinary jeep, but the chassis was higher than that of a regular jeep, and there was a strange device mounted on the roof.

Before setting off, Zhao Ping'an had it delivered to the camp, saying only one sentence before leaving:

"You've used ground radar vehicles before; these things can observe targets at a range of ten to twenty-five kilometers."

Remember to turn it on every half hour, and then maintain your detection distance...

"Tell the radar vehicle to locate the high ground and activate it based on the reconnaissance company's positioning," Liu Dazhu ordered.

Soon, the radar moved to the high ground on the hillside to the side, and the soldiers in the vehicle stared at the screen.

The screen displays green dots that sweep in circles, turning mountains, rivers, and villages into abstract shadows. Staring at it for too long makes your eyes blurry.

Suddenly, a cluster of lights flashed across the screen.

He paused for a moment, rubbed his eyes, and looked again.

The light spot is still there.

They emerged densely from behind the ridge on the east side, splitting into three streams like crab claws, and were closing in on the road.

He tried to count them, but there were too many points of light to count them all.

"Commander!"

Liu Dazhu jumped out of the car and ran over to stare at the screen.

How many people?

"At least... at least five thousand, maybe even ten thousand."

Liu Dazhu remained silent for three seconds.

Then he laughed.

"Good. You've got guts."

French commander Colonel Duval lay prone in the grass, holding up binoculars and staring at the dark road.

His plan was perfect; he had 4000 French troops and 6000 allied troops at his disposal.

He had three thousand men lying in ambush in that woods to the east.

He placed two thousand men on the western hillside.

He hid 1,500 people in the valley to the south.

The remaining four thousand auxiliary troops stayed in the rear, waiting for the Chinese to lose their composure before charging in to reap the rewards.

Ten thousand to three thousand, three to one.

Moreover, the Chinese are traversing canyons, which prevents them from forming a formation, running around, and making them easy targets.

He glanced at his watch. It was four o'clock in the afternoon; soon it would be dark.

When that time comes, those Chinese people will find that they have walked into a dead end.

An hour passed, then two hours passed.

Duval realized something was wrong; it was already dark.

The highway was deserted; there wasn't a single person in sight.

Those three thousand Republican soldiers did not appear.

He got up, raised his binoculars, and searched around.

No. No. No.

Suddenly, he heard a whooshing sound.

He recognized that voice.

During World War II, in Normandy, the Germans' six-barreled cannons made this kind of noise.

But it was denser, sharper, and more like death laughing.

Before he could react, the rocket was already falling.

The first volley of shells landed in the area where the French troops were most concentrated.

The 107mm rocket launcher fired a salvo of all twelve tubes. Liu Dazhu brought 500 sets, along with three loads of ammunition.

Precise aiming wasn't necessary. Shells rained down, covering the entire hillside.

The French soldiers who were dozing off were blown up and thrown into chaos.

Some people were half-flew up to the treetops, some were lifted three meters high by the blast wave, some were clutching their broken legs and howling in pain, and some were lying motionless on the ground with a bloody hole in their backs.

Duval was thrown to the ground by the shockwave. When he got up, his ears were ringing and he couldn't hear anything.

He shouted with his mouth open, but he couldn't even hear his own voice.

A second volley of rockets has arrived.

The French army began to collapse.

The survivors ran deeper into the woods. But something awaited them deep within the woods.

Several flares rose into the night sky.

General-purpose machine guns were positioned on both sides of the hillside, their crossfire blocking all escape routes. Bullets swept across like a deluge, scattering tree bark everywhere, and those running ahead fell one by one.

Someone was lying on the ground, trying to crawl over. A bullet from a 12.7mm heavy machine gun hit someone a meter in front of them.

A crater the size of a washbasin was blasted open. He froze for a moment, then the next bullet struck him, tearing him in two.

RPG troop operators hid behind bushes, waiting for the French officers who were trying to assemble.

A rocket was launched, and the group of people who were huddled together discussing countermeasures were all sent flying into the sky.

Duval was dragged down the hillside by two soldiers.

He glanced back and saw his main force of four thousand men falling down like harvested wheat.

On the other side of the hillside not far away, Liu Dazhu put down his binoculars.

"What about the 122mm howitzer?"

"Ready in position."

"beat."

Six 122mm howitzers opened fire simultaneously. Shells flew over the ridge and landed in the last French assembly area.

There, Duval left two thousand men as reserves, but they hadn't had time to move them yet.

As the shells fell, the two thousand men were lining up. Officers shouted commands, and the soldiers lined up in rows, waiting for orders.

The first shell landed in the center of the crowd.

Blood. Flesh. Limbs. Broken guns. They were flying everywhere.

Second shot. Third shot. Fourth shot.

In five minutes, twenty rounds of artillery fire ripped through the two thousand men, leaving behind hundreds of corpses, and they scattered.

The battle lasted for three hours.

At nine o'clock in the evening, the gunfire gradually subsided.

Liu Dazhu stood on the ridge, looking down at the battlefield through an infrared telescope.

Of the four thousand French soldiers, more than two thousand died, mostly due to the overwhelming firepower. Of the six thousand French auxiliary troops, more than a thousand died. The rest fled south desperately, not daring to look back.

The staff officer ran over, panting.

"Commander, we've captured over three hundred prisoners. What should we do?"

Liu Dazhu glanced at him.

"Release them."

The staff officer was taken aback.

"Release them?"

"Send them back. Tell the people behind us that if they mess with us again, they can't blame us for marching all the way to their headquarters!"

The staff officer went to make the arrangements.

Liu Dazhu lit a cigarette and watched the fleeing figures.

He remembered what Zhao Ping'an had said when he saw him off to the car.

"Dazhu, when you get there, don't be afraid of trouble. You have enough weapons."

He smiled.

Enough. More than enough. These people, and they call them soldiers?

Duval was dragged by two soldiers for five kilometers before finally reaching a safe place.

He leaned against a tree, catching his breath for a while, then asked, "How many people are left?"

The staff officer beside him shook his head.

"We can't get the statistics."

Duval closed his eyes.

Four thousand French soldiers and six thousand French auxiliary troops were defeated in just a few hours.

He recalled that he had been planning how to surround the Republic Army, how to capture prisoners, and how to report his achievements to his superiors.

Now, none of that matters anymore.

The important thing is that Republican army, and what they have in their hands.

—Those shells that could cover an entire hillside, those rocket launchers that could penetrate everything,

Those heavy machine guns that can tear a person in half

Those things were unlike any weapons he had ever seen before.

Although some of his colleagues sent him telegrams after they went to fight in the Northern War,

But at the time, I simply didn't believe it; how could these people with queues possibly have advanced equipment?

They possessed only the will to fight, and with three times the manpower and superior weaponry, they could ambush the enemy.

He also had ten "Miss 75" rapid-fire cannons.

As a result, the enemy's rocket artillery covered the artillery positions in the first round.

Then, at various firing positions and infantry gathering points, the Republic Army seemed to have eyes in the dark.

Duval had only seen such firepower density in front of the Sedan Line.

Now Duval is filled with regret; he realizes his colleague was telling the truth.

But now Duval is no longer worried about this Republican army, but about how to deal with the Annamese monkeys if they seize the opportunity to attack him.

On the other side, Liu Dazhu was giving instructions to his staff.

"A telegram was sent to the brigade commander: Our unit has detected the French ambush area in advance, and has already routed the enemy, killing approximately 2,000 enemy soldiers and inflicting 35 casualties."

Happy Lunar New Year, Commander-in-Chief! Here's a battle report!