Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2472 The Wind of Guadalcanal (First Update, Please Subscribe)
In November, the temperature in Gwadar is only in the 20s.

The road was completely desert on both sides. A desert-colored Warrior SUV sped along the road, followed by a dilapidated Volkswagen sedan.

"Gwadar is a narrow, semi-desert coastal strip along the Arabian coast to the Persian Gulf—the Makran coastline. It once belonged to the Maharajas of Pakistan, then to the Sultan of Oman, and later, after Oman became a British colony, it also became a British colony."

More than 20 years ago, due to the needs of developing its space program, Britain leased this site to the SEA. Initially, it served as a space monitoring station, but later it became a military base.

As Yang Song finished explaining everything, he turned his gaze to the outside of the car window, where it was all desert.

The journey to Gwadar involves traversing the vast, hot, dry, and sparsely populated Gobi Desert. Apart from the occasional camel thorn bush along the roadside, there is no other greenery.

But when the car arrived in Gwadar, their eyes were immediately brightened: the forests were lush, the grass was green, the flowers were beautiful, and there was vitality everywhere, which was completely different from the desolate scene they had just seen.

"...This place looks really beautiful."

Wang Jianguo looked around in surprise. The palm trees, green plants and flowers on both sides of the road were so vibrant that even Islamabad could not compare.

The soldiers in uniform that can be seen from time to time along the road remind them that this is a military base!
This was also their first time entering a SEA military base.

Thinking of this, Yang Song felt as if his heart was being squeezed by an invisible hand.

They actually allowed foreign journalists like themselves into a military base. It's unbelievable...

Aren't they afraid of leaking secrets?
Thinking of this, Yang Song immediately became nervous and said to Wang Jianguo.

"After we get off the bus, we'll follow Chen Jianming. Don't take pictures of things you can't take, and don't ask questions you can't ask, understand?"

Chen Jianming was the press officer sent by the base to receive them. He was sitting in the car in front.

The car drove along a straight asphalt road, with tall palm trees stretching into the distance on both sides.

Suddenly, Wang Jianguo let out a low cry.

"Old Yang, look at that..."

Yang Song followed his gaze and instantly forgot to breathe—on the open ground, dozens of tanks were arranged in a matrix, their prismatic armor gleaming matte in the sunlight, their cannons pointing straight to the sky, like a group of lurking steel behemoths.

Unlike the rounded, domestically produced tanks they had seen before, these tanks had distinct lines and sharp angles, with many additional column antennas on the turret.

Many of those tanks still had dark green camouflage paint. However, some tanks had been painted sand yellow.

The lead vehicle soon stopped, and Yang Song and Wang Jianguo got out and followed the press officer to a row of tanks.

"This is the VR2 main battle tank, weighing 55 tons and equipped with a 120mm smoothbore gun. It has been the most powerful tank in the world since it entered service."

Chen Zhiming introduced it with some pride:
"Ahead is the armored troops training ground, which is specially designed to simulate desert and mountainous terrain. These troops have been stationed in the country. They will undergo acclimatization training here before heading to Lebanon."

When he noticed that neither of the two reporters was taking pictures, he asked:
"Don't you need to take photos?"

"May I?"

Yang Song said somewhat uncertainly.

"Won't this cause any trouble? After all, this is a military stronghold."

"Military stronghold? You mean it needs to be kept secret?"

Chen Jianming first smiled, then burst into laughter.

"What's there to keep secret? Since I've shown it to you, there's no need to keep it secret. Besides, he's shown it countless times at exhibitions. Take pictures as you like. I certainly won't take you to any of the confidential areas, and there's nothing to keep secret in the public areas either."

The other party's explanation completely overturned Yang Song's understanding. After all, in his view, everything in a military stronghold was kept secret, even the smallest details.

Wang Jianguo couldn't wait to point his camera at the tanks, and the camera shutter clicked repeatedly. Yang Song walked to a tank, reached out and touched the armor. Looking at the tank's sharply defined turret, he could feel the astonishing thickness of the armor.

These are their tanks!

Chen Zhiming continued, introducing the products to them:

“Gwadar has now been completely transformed into a large military camp. The bases in the country are mainly in rainforest and mountainous terrain, so the troops are not very familiar with desert and mountainous terrain. Therefore, they need to undergo acclimatization training here before they can go to the battlefield.”

After rounding a low slope, the roaring sound grew louder as it approached.

Yang Song looked up and saw four gray fighter jets in formation sweeping across the sky, their wings tracing paths through the sunlight like sharp daggers. The F-3 fighter jets were surprisingly agile in flight, unlike heavy aircraft weighing over twenty tons.

As they landed, the landing gear collided with the runway with a dull thud, and their exhaust flames emitted a pale blue light; the heat wave could be felt even hundreds of meters away.

"This is our most advanced F3 fighter jet, with a maximum speed of twice the speed of sound and a combat radius of 1800 kilometers..."

As Chen Zhiming gave a brief introduction to the fighter jet, Yang Song, who had served in the Air Force, immediately felt conflicted. He thought of the old fighter jets at domestic airfields, their fuselages covered in rivets, often unable to take off in bad weather; the difference between the two was like an insurmountable chasm.

However, that area was likely a classified zone, so we could only observe it from a distance. Through the airport's barbed wire fence, we could vaguely see some large transport planes, and even some long-range bombers.

The midday sun grew increasingly intense, and the sound of gunfire from the training ground interrupted Yang Song's thoughts.

Chen Zhiming led them toward the shooting range. Through the protective netting, the sight before them stunned the two men.

Hundreds of soldiers were divided into several groups, lying prone behind sand dune bunkers. The muzzles of their automatic rifles spat fire, and spent bullet casings fell to the ground like a waterfall, making a crisp clattering sound.

They fired randomly at moving targets in the distance; some soldiers even stood up and moved among the rubble to fire, the muzzle flashes blending together. Piles of spent cartridges lay on the ground, the gleaming brass shells shining brightly in the sunlight.

"Don't they... need to conserve ammunition?"

Wang Jianguo's voice was a little hoarse. He had also served in the army, but he had only fired a dozen or so bullets in those years.

Chen Zhiming shrugged:

"How can we conduct training if we're saving ammunition? The military has its own training syllabus, which specifies the amount of training. In fact, there will only be more combat-oriented training. For soldiers, wasting ammunition is to reduce bloodshed on the battlefield, since the battlefield environment in the Middle East is much more brutal than the training ground."

Yang Song watched as a soldier changed a magazine. With swift fingers, thirty bullets were already chambered. When he pulled the trigger again, the muzzle was so stable that it barely shook.

He recalled his own experience with shooting in the army, where he had to aim repeatedly for five bullets and carefully wipe the gun barrel after each shot. In comparison, the training here was simply "luxurious" to the point of being astonishing.

On the other side of the shooting range, several soldiers were practicing grenade throwing. They pulled the pins and threw the grenades randomly towards the target area, with explosions echoing and smoke billowing everywhere.

Without officers repeatedly emphasizing the key points of the maneuvers, the soldiers chatted and laughed as if they were playing a game. Yang Song noticed that their tactical vests were full of magazines and grenades, and their helmets had something that looked like binoculars on them, but he didn't know what it was.
"These pieces of equipment must have cost a fortune, right?"

Yang Song pointed to the binoculars with low-light night vision on a soldier's helmet and asked.

"This is a low-light night vision device. The military's purchase price is 3500 yuan. The total value of their equipment, including helmets, bulletproof vests, tactical vests, and various other gear, exceeds 2 yuan."

Chen Zhiming said in an extremely calm tone:
"It may seem a bit expensive, but having better equipment is key to survival."

2 yuan!

This number gave Yang Song a jolt.

It was unbelievable that a soldier had so much equipment. In his mind, a soldier only needed a uniform, a rifle, and four grenades. But here, they were armed to the teeth.

Just then, he heard a series of plosive sounds coming from the side—it was soldiers using automatic grenade launchers to pour ammunition into the distance.

At sunset, the long, narrow Gwadar Cape, stretching into the Arabian Sea, stands beautifully, bathed in a gentle red glow from the setting sun.

Yang Song and Wang Jianguo saw a soldier standing in a bunker on the shore, holding a machine gun and looking out at the sea.

After a half-day visit, the two of them were filled with mixed feelings. The shock they felt here was unprecedented.

Looking at the soldiers wearing desert camouflage combat uniforms, bulletproof vests, and helmets, and seeing that they spoke the same language as them and were very enthusiastic when they learned about their origins, especially after learning about their ancestral homes, some people even came specifically to see them and asked what their ancestral homes looked like.

Although these young soldiers had no deep affection for their ancestral homeland, they were always very close to it because of their fathers' generation.

"It's really hard to imagine."

Wang Jianguo held his camera tightly to his chest. He had taken many photos today, and those photos not only showed the gap in military equipment, but also the condition of the soldiers, which far exceeded their expectations.

"Yes, you don't know until you come, and you'll be surprised when you arrive."

Yang Song nodded, then sighed.

"We all initially thought they were tricked into going to the battlefield by capitalists and imperialists, but now that we've met them, we realize they are also very patriotic..."

When he said these words, his emotions seemed somewhat complicated. Was it because of those soldiers who called him a fellow villager?

Or it could be for other reasons.

"Yes, in Islamabad, the locals said they were invading the Middle East, invading Lebanon, but here..."

Looking back at the soldiers running in the sunset in the distance, Wang Jianguo said.

"They were forced into this war to protect themselves from terrorist attacks. Why would they have chosen to suffer on the battlefield when they could have been enjoying their sodas, TV, and air conditioning at home?"
It's all because... someone launched a terrorist attack.

At this point, Wang Jianguo couldn't help but sigh and said:
"Honestly, can't everyone just live a peaceful life? Why do we have to fight each other all the time? In the end, aren't it always the ordinary people who suffer?"

(End of this chapter)