Soldiers Assault: Starting from the 7th Steel Company

Chapter 225 I won't hold back anymore.
The outcome of the exercise was self-evident. Relying on weapons and equipment purchased from the West, the Blue Army suddenly exerted its strength in the latter half of the exercise. F-16 fighter jets briefly seized air superiority over the combat zone, and then ground armored forces quickly advanced, cutting off the Red Army's attacking forces and subsequent reinforcements.

Under such circumstances, the exercise command could only declare the Red Army the defeated.

"How could this be?" Peter sat dejectedly on a bench in the aisle, still unable to believe that his country's army could be so easily defeated.

Seeing this, Chen Jiang and the others originally wanted to leave directly. After all, they had seen what they needed to see and learned something, so there was no need to dwell on a small bet.

"Wait a moment!"

Suddenly, Peter stood up and called out to Chen Jiang.

"I lost. Since I lost, I should accept the consequences. Let's go, I'll buy you a drink."

"I think it's unnecessary."

“Not going would be disrespectful to me. In our country, if a man agrees to a bet, he must honor it, or he will be looked down upon for the rest of his life.”

Peter stubbornly insisted that...
Chen Jiang and several others looked at Teacher Qin Dong, who shrugged and said, "There are no classes tonight, so you can relax a bit, but you must maintain a military image."

Qin Dong's words were essentially a way of giving them a holiday.
"Thank you, teacher!"

"Thank you, teacher!"

"Thank you, teacher!"

After a string of thanks, the group quickly left with the strides of soldiers.

Peter was familiar with the local bars, probably because he had been here many times for exercises. He led Chen Jiang and the others into a relatively large bar.

The bar was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the distinctive smell of vodka and the aroma of roasted meat.

The atmosphere here is very much that of Russia, with local cultural murals on the walls. Of course, what attracts Chen Jiang and his group the most are the boldly dressed Russian girls in the bar.

The deafening local folk music forced Chen Jiang to raise his voice: "Peter, are all the bars here this lively?"

Peter didn't need to raise his voice any further. "Moscow's even more lively!" He patted Chen Jiang's shoulder forcefully. "We're not leaving until we're drunk! We Russians may have lost the exercise, but we can't lose our drinking capacity!"

"What would you like to drink?" He called over a scantily clad woman at the front desk and asked them to order drinks.

It was the first time Chen Jiang and his group had been to a bar like this, so they were naturally a little lost.

"Let's all drink vodka, that's what men should drink!"

After saying that, without letting Chen Jiang and the others choose, he ordered a large glass of "Moscow Mule" for each of them.

This liquor has an extremely high alcohol content. Chen Jiang, who has a poor alcohol tolerance, only took a sip and felt his throat burning, and couldn't help but cough.

This caused a burst of laughter from those around him.

In their local area, men who don't drink alcohol naturally find it difficult to speak at the table.

Peter had already downed two large gulps and was comfortably boasting to Chen Jiang and the others, "We Russians live in a frigid region, and we drink some alcohol to warm ourselves up in the winter. So everyone's alcohol tolerance is pretty good. As for your Chinese baijiu, the taste is too bland, it's not the same! Haha."

Upon hearing this, Chen Jiang thought, "You call 50-degree liquor 'bland'?" He was speechless.

However, he really has the right to say that. For example, the vodka in his glass, Chen Jiang felt, was at least 60 degrees and was indeed very spicy.

"Vodka is made from grains or potatoes, distilled to an alcohol content of up to 95%, then diluted with distilled water to 40 to 60%, and filtered through activated charcoal to make the spirit more crystal clear, colorless, and refreshing. It is not sweet, bitter, or astringent, but only has a fiery stimulation, which forms the unique characteristics of vodka."

Peter explained to them about vodka: "There are two ways to drink vodka. One is the classic and original 'frozen vodka.' When chilled, vodka is slightly viscous. After drinking it, the liquid spreads like wine or brandy, with a mellow taste. Once it enters the stomach, you feel a warm current spreading throughout your body. If you eat it with caviar, sausage, salted fish, wild mushrooms, etc., it is an even more wonderful experience."

"Another way to drink it is 'mixed vodka,' which is vodka mixed with concentrated fruit juice or other soft drinks or low-alcohol spirits, served in a tall glass, and savored slowly. That is the Moscow Mule in front of you."

Chen Jiang knew that this cocktail was already considered to have a relatively low alcohol content; if it were some of the natives of his country, they would drink much stronger versions.

Peter had unknowingly downed half a glass of wine, his cheeks flushed.

“To be honest,” Peter suddenly lowered his voice, his eyes becoming serious, “I don’t understand why our Red Army suffered such a crushing defeat. In this exercise, we used the most advanced weaponry; even our ground tank units were using T-90 tanks. These are theoretically on par with the Abrams tank.”

Zhao Zhenguo interjected, "Tanks fighting in urban warfare is essentially using their own weaknesses to attack the enemy's strengths. In that kind of urban warfare environment, even if you brought the American Abrams tanks, they would be helpless."

Peter gulped down a mouthful of wine and slammed the glass down on the wooden table. "Damn it! Those countries that should be our allies have actually bought so many weapons and equipment from the West that can counter us!" His voice was filled with barely concealed anger and disappointment.

Chen Jiang noticed that Peter's hand holding the cup was trembling slightly.

He recalled an old veteran saying that for a long time in the past, the Chinese military had also been very envious of advanced Western equipment.

There's nothing I can do; my own equipment isn't very sturdy.
The navy suffered the most, having to drag howitzers onto the decks of fishing boats when they had no other choice – what a tragic scene!

“Colonel Peter,” Chen Jiang carefully chose his words, “there are no permanent friends, only permanent interests. These allies you see are unreliable as long as the benefits offered by the Western countries are sufficient. Besides, they can still buy all sorts of advanced equipment from the Western countries, even though this equipment may already be obsolete in the eyes of the Western countries.”

"Outdated equipment? How can that suppress our weapons and equipment so effectively?" Peter replied with a wry smile.

"What's so strange about that? After their technology became more advanced, the things they discarded were all very powerful. To be honest, when facing the advanced fighter jets of the United States, our air force pilots back then took off with the idea of ​​'fighting hand-to-hand' and never planned to return."

Hearing Chen Jiang say these things, Peter was naturally reminded of the scenes that unfolded before his eyes, and he was somewhat moved.

“Indeed, you’ve had a tough journey,” Peter said sincerely.

"But we have finally found our own path to development." Chen Jiang's gaze was firm. "After generations of scientific research experts have worked hard, we have begun to catch up. We are no longer blindly chasing after others, but gradually developing our asymmetric advantages."

Amidst the noise of the bar, Peter stared at Chen Jiang for a long time, then suddenly raised his glass: "To find your own path! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" several Chinese students responded in unison.

After a few rounds of drinks, Peter opened up completely: "You know what? My grandfather fought in the Great Patriotic War, my father fought in the Afghan War, and my family has been in the military for generations, but I've never felt so lost." His blue eyes gleamed with a complex light under the lamplight. "Could it be that the once most powerful Russian army is really falling behind the times?" Just then, a burst of laughter came from the other end of the bar.

Several young men wearing today's Blue Army uniforms were pointing and gesturing at them.

"Look, they're from the Russian bear country!"

"And their henchmen!"

"Isn't it said that the Russian military is the second strongest in the world? But judging from today's exercise, it's nothing special."

"Hahaha~"

Peter's face instantly darkened. "These damned guys."

Chen Jiang knew that although these people looked similar to Peter, they were actually officers from another group of small Central Asian countries, so he pressed down on his arm and said, "Ignore them."

But the other party wouldn't let it go. A blond man swaggered over and said, "What can you learn from them? You'd be better off learning from us. Buy more Patriot missiles and F-16 fighter jets. These are much better than the SU series."

"Shut up!" Peter couldn't take it anymore and stood up abruptly. Standing nearly 1.9 meters tall, he looked down at the other person: "We speak the same language, but you're already so impatient. What's wrong? Is the moon in the West rounder and bigger than ours?"

Peter's words brought the conflict to the brink.

Chen Jiang quickly stepped between the two: "Gentlemen, we are all soldiers. Soldiers speak with strength, not by arguing in a bar."

The other person looked Chen Jiang up and down with disdain: "Who do you think you are?"

He actually tried to push Chen Jiang's chest with his hand, but Chen Jiang used the force against him and pulled him away, causing him to fall forward.

Because Chen Jiang moved so quickly, everyone in the bar thought he had tripped and fallen because he was drunk.

"Damn it." The other party lost face, immediately got up from the ground, and punched Chen Jiang, who looked completely innocent.

"Chen Jiang, watch out!"

Peter thought Chen Jiang was going to suffer a great loss, so he hurriedly reminded him. Unexpectedly, Chen Jiang grabbed the other man's wrist with lightning speed, turned him around and pressed him onto the table. The movement was clean and neat, and not even the wine in the glass was spilled.

"Chinese Kung Fu!" someone in the bar exclaimed.

Seeing that he was being held down, the opponent immediately mustered his strength to counterattack, but even with all his might, he couldn't move an inch.

Just then, Chen Jiang released his grip and took a step back: "I told you, soldiers speak with strength. If you still want to play, let's go outside and have a one-on-one fight, but I won't hold back from now on."

Chen Jiang always had a smile on his face. It was true that they were disciplined, but they couldn't let others take advantage of them forever.

When you can no longer tolerate something, there's no need to tolerate it anymore.

The other man rubbed his wrist, his eyes filled with resentment, but in the end he didn't have the courage to fight Chen Jiang one-on-one. Anyone who wasn't an idiot would know from those few moves that he was no match for the Chinese man in front of him. If he continued to cause trouble, he would probably lose face.

After uttering a few harsh words, he could only slink away with his companions.

The bar became lively again, and most people started applauding Chen Jiang, which made Lin Xiaoxiao and the others feel very proud.

"Chinese Kung Fu, awesome! Your bill is all on the house today!" The bar owner walked over, swaying her exaggeratedly perky hips, and flirted wildly with Chen Jiang.

The Russians have a large female population and are a nation known for its fighting spirit, so they particularly admire the strong. The two moves Chen Jiang just displayed were enough to fascinate them.

Peter laughed and put his arm around Chen Jiang: "My friend! That move you just made was brilliant! If you were from Russia, I would definitely introduce you to the hottest girls, or rather, I'm afraid there would be a long line of beauties chasing after you."

Chen Jiang quickly waved his hand, "Please spare me, I have a wife and children."

Peter laughed heartily, "Haha, I didn't expect you to be such a devoted man."

"Chen, that move you just made was amazing! Can you teach me?" Peter asked enviously.

Chen Jiang smiled and shook his head: "This is just the most basic grappling technique, which every Chinese soldier must master."

“Everyone?” Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean all of you know Chinese Kung Fu?”

Zhao Zhenguo couldn't help but interject: "In our unit, combat training is a compulsory course. However, Chen Jiang's grappling skills are indeed the best among us."

"Don't underestimate his two simple moves. Chinese kung fu emphasizes rigorous training. The more you practice, the more proficient you become." Qi Huan knew how hard Chen Jiang trained, so he understood this point very well.

Peter thoughtfully put down his glass: "No wonder. No wonder you were able to accumulate strength and achieve great things in adversity."

Just then, a commotion broke out at the bar entrance. Several soldiers in military police uniforms walked in, looked around, and then headed straight for Chen Jiang and his group's table.

Chen Jiang frowned. In any country, military police are the most feared. Although he did not take action just now, this was, after all, a foreign land. If he really got serious, it would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble.

"I heard there's a fight here?" the head of the military police asked sternly, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the crowd.

When he saw Peter, his eyes widened, he straightened his back, and gave Peter a military salute.

Peter casually returned the salute, then quickly offered an explanation, which left the military police chuckling sheepishly.
“I see,” he said, turning to Chen Jiang in broken Chinese. “Chinese Kung Fu, very good! Those guys are always causing trouble, but they’ve finally met their match today.”

They smiled and nodded at Chen Jiang, then left.

"Do you know him?" Chen Jiang asked curiously.

Peter smiled mysteriously: "My uncle is the commander of the garrison here, and he's just a low-ranking military policeman. Of course, he's very polite to me."

(End of this chapter)