Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2527 A New Nation Welcomes Its New Beginning (Second Update, Please Subscribe)
Beirut.

After the New Year, Beirut was no longer filled with the smoke of war. In the first week of the war, the PLO armed forces and their factions occupying western and northern Beirut suffered devastating blows under the attack of the coalition forces.

In parts of Beirut, reconstruction has already begun—war brings destruction, but construction will follow.

The arrival of the allied forces dispelled the scourge of the land, restored order and security, and gave the people a renewed hope for life.

This is why this former Paris of the Middle East is healing the wounds of war at an astonishing pace.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated, the sky over Beirut was already tinged with a pale gold.

Inside a tent at an SEA military camp in the northwestern suburbs, Wang Changde was maintaining an AR-15 automatic rifle. Although the AR-15 rifle was the predecessor of the US military's M16, the two had some differences. A simple way to distinguish them by their appearance was by looking at the handguard. For example, the AR-15 did not have the triangular handguard of the M16, but rather a cylindrical handguard with upper and lower halves. The handguard had heat dissipation ribs on its surface, but apart from that, the two were no different. Both used the 6.5*38mm rifle cartridge developed by Nanyang Defence Company. This cartridge greatly improved the accuracy and lethality of the AR-type rifle in long-range shooting.

From its inception, it was welcomed by the military and tested in the Vietnam War. It was even called "the most perfect bullet in history" by the US military—powerful, with low recoil and high accuracy.

This is why this type of ammunition became NATO's standard ammunition.

Just as Wang Changde was maintaining his rifle, the platoon leader burst into the tent with orders. Although he looked European, his accent was that of someone from the Central Plains:

"Pack your gear and head to the recruit training camp in the east. Those young men in the Lebanese government army are waiting for you to teach them how to fight."

Soon, the roar of engines from more than a dozen Warrior vehicles broke the tranquility of the camp. Wang Changde and three other comrades squeezed into the vehicle, and outside the glass was a completely unfamiliar world.

The wheels rolled over the long-neglected road, the potholed asphalt a reminder of the area's former prosperity. The passing convoy kicked up clouds of dust.

They came here from SEA, thousands of miles away. The land beneath their feet is separated from the Indian Ocean, and even the smell of the air is completely different—there is no humidity near the equator, but rather it is extremely dry. However, there is still a faint lingering smell of gunpowder in the air.

The numerous building ruins along the roadside serve as a clear reminder that the smoke of battle has not yet dissipated.

"Look over there."

Driver Qiao Zhiwei suddenly slowed down and whistled towards the roadside.

Following his gaze, Wang Changde saw several women in jeans walking by the roadside. The women were slender and beautiful. When they saw the soldiers, they waved and greeted them in broken Mandarin.

The soldiers waved to them through the car windows. At that moment, Qiao Zhiwei said:

"You know what? Because we came here, we preserved their right to wear these clothes!"

After saying that, he turned his head and said:

"Although they were Catholics, they once didn't even have the freedom to choose what to wear."

The roadside vendors, crouching behind faded rugs, immediately stood up as the convoy approached, waving their handicrafts vigorously through the bulletproof glass. Most of these items were local handicrafts, and it was hard to tell whether they were European or Arabic in style; the two distinctly different styles blended together here.

The vendor had a smile on his face and was calling out in broken English, "Cheap, friend."

Further away, a group of barefoot children suddenly rushed out of the alleyway. They were wearing faded old clothes, their faces smeared with mud, but their smiles were exceptionally bright. The boy in the lead was holding a deflated soccer ball, chasing after the Warriors bus while shouting something in Lebanon. The children behind him cheered and laughed, their clear laughter like silver bells piercing through the carriage.

Wang Changde subconsciously raised his hand and waved, and the children immediately burst into even more enthusiastic cheers and ran even faster until they were blocked by the earthen slope by the roadside.

"These children don't know what war is."

Sitting next to him, Liu Xingyang sighed. He was a career soldier who had served for over ten years and was not only a sergeant but also their platoon leader.

“My children are about the same age as them and should be in school now.”

Wang Changde didn't respond. Being unmarried, he naturally didn't have the same sentimentality as the platoon leader. Marriage and children do indeed change many people.

After the convoy passed through the city, it drove along the mountain road for more than an hour, then rounded a ridge, and the recruit training camp suddenly came into view. Besides a field blast wall, there was only a ring of barbed wire.

Upon entering the camp, they saw thousands of new recruits in camouflage uniforms standing neatly in an open area. Sunlight shone on their dark faces, and each person's eyes held a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. A Lebanese government army officer strode forward, shook Wang Changde's hand, and said in fluent English:
"Thank you for coming. Most of these children are farmers and students. Their land has been taken away and their families have been killed by terrorists. Now they are protecting their country."

Then, as if he had just thought of something, he said:
"No, it's about reclaiming our country!"

It's about taking it back!
Wang Changde noticed a hint of hatred in the other party's tone when they said "take back." He knew, of course, why they said that, because they had indeed almost lost their country. Before the arrival of the Allied forces, they only controlled a little over a thousand square kilometers of territory.

Many ordinary people lost their homes and could only live as refugees in Beirut. What were the dreams of most people at that time?
It means leaving this country and going to Europe.

They had lived here before the Romans arrived, and they farmed and lived here during the Roman rule.

Later, the Arabs occupied the area, but they still stubbornly survived there. Then the Crusaders arrived, and later the Turks.

They have never left this place, and now, for many Lebanese, the only future they can imagine is leaving this war-torn land, leaving the land where they have lived for thousands of years.

This was the only option they could think of for survival.

However, the arrival of the coalition changed everything, giving them hope and a glimpse of the future. Of course, the coalition only gave them hope; the future was something they had to fight for themselves. But in the process, the coalition would provide corresponding assistance, just like they are doing now.

As he pondered all this, Wang Changde looked towards the training ground. The new recruits were practicing their formations, their movements still clumsy but incredibly focused. In the distance, sporadic gunshots could be heard from the firing range; the instructors who had arrived earlier were demonstrating their shooting skills.

At this moment, Liu Xingyang patted Wang Changde on the shoulder:

"Don't overthink it. Our mission is to train them into real soldiers, and then they will fight on their own."

Wang Changde nodded, and soon he arrived at the firing range. With the help of a translator, he taught the new recruits how to use the weapons.

The weapons they used were not AR rifles, but AK47s. Wang Changde was no stranger to this type of weapon commonly used in Eastern countries, and they had also received training in using enemy weapons.

However, these AKs were not made in the Soviet Union, but were produced by the University of Tokyo.

This assault rifle, marked "Type 56," weighs approximately four kilograms, has an effective range of about 400 meters, a 7.62 caliber, and a magazine capacity of thirty rounds. Originally designed by the Soviet Union, it was supplied in large quantities by the Soviet Union during the period of good relations between China and the Soviet Union in the 1950s, along with the transfer of production technology and equipment.

Later, as relations between the two countries deteriorated, the Soviet Union stopped providing technical assistance, but their arsenals continued to produce the rifle in large quantities, and they even equipped it with a folding bayonet.

Wang Changde didn't know how this AK rifle got here, but when he picked it up and showed the new recruits how to operate it, he felt a strange sense of irony.

Their enemies—the sectarian militants—obtained AK rifles from the Soviet Union from their supporters in Syria and elsewhere, while rifles produced by Dongda University, of the same type, appeared here.

This is truly an irony of history!
The armed factions were trying to overthrow the country, while the Lebanese government forces were trying to reclaim their country; both sides had acquired AK47 rifles.

Of course, this was just a fleeting thought, and then Wang Changde turned his attention back to the new recruits.

He knew that in the days to come, he would have to teach them tactics, shooting, first aid, how to survive on the battlefield, and how to fight back. These young people, who had come from the fields and classrooms, would take up arms and use their courage and lives to reclaim their land and homes from those terrorists.

Then they will rebuild their country, allowing this land to once again enjoy its former prosperity and stability.

While the new recruits were training at the training camp, in a valley in the southern mountains, a T-54 tank stopped in front of a small stone house. Its tracks had dented the vineyard and knocked down the grapevines.

A Maronite militia officer in combat uniform stood next to the tank, holding a megaphone in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He took a puff of his cigarette before lazily raising the megaphone and turning his gaze to the people in robes.

You must leave here now!

He shouted the command, his voice echoing through the loudspeaker at the village entrance:

"You are not allowed to take any property or food. This place has never been your home, and there is no loss of property that belongs to you. Now, this place has returned to its true owners. You may turn our church into your monastery, but... this is our..."

Robbers always pay a price, and this is the price you'll pay—get out of here!

As he said this, the officer stared at these people, the people they had once welcomed with open arms, the people they had once gratefully crossed the border—when their so-called Arab brothers refused to take them in, it was the Lebanese who opened their arms, accepted them, and gave them a place to stay.

But how do these people repay their kindness and acceptance?
They repaid with guns and cannons. Just a few years later, they showed their true colors, joining forces with the sectarian militias to launch a civil war. These outsiders seized the land with guns and cannons, killing the local inhabitants or driving them from their homes.

This is the reward for kindness!
Now, faced with the pitiful appearance of these people, the women's weeping, and the children's cries, what does the officer feel?
It was anger, it was hatred, but there was no mercy, because all the merciful people had been killed.

(End of this chapter)