The War of Resistance: From Overseas Chinese Mechanics to King of Nanyang

"He who eats another's food is bound to him; he who takes another's gift is bound to him." The supplies Huang Zurong sent were piled up like a small mountain, with plenty of canned food, dry rations, and candy. The officers and soldiers of the 200th Division all kept it in mind, and naturally trained with extra diligence, wishing they could teach all the survival skills they had honed on the battlefield to their brothers in the militia.

Because their superior only said one thing: "They've brought out all the good food and drinks for you. If you don't teach them some real skills, how can you live with your conscience?"

Therefore, there was no perfunctory attitude on the training ground. From drills and disassembly of firearms to tactical coordination and prone shooting, he personally demonstrated every action and patiently corrected every detail. His enthusiasm was burning hot.

As a result, those who were just joining as cannon fodder suffered the most.

That's right.

Huang Zurong's militia was originally divided into two groups.

One group consisted of the initial two thousand-plus brothers he had brought out. The training intensity they had received over the past few months was already quite high, because Huang Zurong had trained them entirely according to the "Militia Military Training Manual," one of the three great transmigration novels. Therefore, the training intensity was not much worse than that of elite troops.

Fortunately, Huang Zurong never skimped on the food. There was meat and plenty of grain at every meal, and everyone trained to be muscular and strong like little tigers. So, when faced with the high-intensity training of the 200th Division's officers and soldiers, although they were sweating profusely and panting, they could still grit their teeth and keep up. At most, they would experience muscle soreness, but there was nothing they couldn't bear.

The latter refers to the routed soldiers who were later recruited, especially the group known as the Sichuan Army Corps, who were the so-called "cannon fodder".

In their previous unit, they lacked food and clothing, and ate tree bark and banana leaves every day. It was good enough if they could survive. Where would they have the conditions to train their physical fitness?

Although each of them possessed unique survival skills, adept at jungle concealment and using local resources, their physical fitness and endurance, when it came to formal training, were far inferior to the elite members of the militia.

There's no way to develop good physical fitness if you rely on banana leaves to fill your stomach every day.

Prolonged hunger and malnutrition have left most of them emaciated and pale. They are unable to complete high-intensity tactical training, let alone a simple five-kilometer cross-country run. They are out of breath, their legs are weak, and they can't even stand up after running half of it.

This strange scene naturally didn't escape the notice of the officers and soldiers of the 200th Division. A young squad leader from the 200th Division, looking at the elite militiamen gritting their teeth and executing prone firing with perfect form on one side, and then at the "cannon fodder" squatting on the ground panting heavily with pale faces on the other, couldn't help but frown and walk forward, asking with a puzzled expression, "Strange, you're all from the militia under Commander Huang, how come there's such a big difference? Could it be that you're logistics soldiers and don't train much?"

"Yeah, your physical fitness is really bad, isn't it? If you're in this condition, you'll be too slow to dodge the shells if you're not quick enough on the battlefield." Another veteran chimed in, his tone tinged with confusion.

These words made the cannon fodder a bit depressed. Were they physically weak?

They were indeed lacking, but they knew in their hearts that they were not new recruits who had never fought in battles, but rather veterans who had been through countless battles. It was only because they had been hungry and cold for many years that their physical strength had been worn down.

Seeing the strong and capable young men of the militia around them, who were able to train with ease, and then looking at their own weak and frail appearance, they felt even more ashamed.

Although the militia members were not as skilled in combat as the militia and had not experienced many tough battles, their physical fitness was much better. This comparison made the militia members look even more pathetic.

In fact, they have enjoyed the abundant meals provided by Huang Zurong these past few days, with canned food and dry rations at every meal, and no longer needing to eat banana leaves. However, physical strength cannot be replenished in just a few days. It will take at least a month of proper care before any noticeable difference can be seen.

They wanted to keep up with the training pace and prove they weren't useless, but their bodies just couldn't keep up. The more they trained, the more difficult it became, and the more ashamed they felt.

There was nothing they could do but remain silent, heads bowed and saying nothing.

It would be too embarrassing to tell these soldiers of the 200th Division, "We are not new recruits who have never fought a war. We just haven't had enough to eat, so our physical fitness is a little lacking."

After all, he was a veteran, so he still had a bit of pride.

Huang Zurong, who had been observing the training ground, was aware of the discussions within the 200th Division. He then approached Lin Yi directly, his eyes filled with pure curiosity, and asked with a smile, "So, did you really eat banana leaves before?"

Huang Zurong was genuinely curious. Neither his previous life's memories nor his own experience after transmigrating had ever tasted banana leaves, nor had he even considered trying them. He was truly curious about what they tasted like and whether they were even edible. The doubt in his eyes was undisguised.

Upon hearing this, Lin Yi's lips curled into a helpless, bitter smile, his voice low and tinged with a sour tone: "Yes, sir, that stuff is astringent and hard, it pricks your throat when you chew it, it's really hard to swallow, and it makes your stomach bloated after you swallow it."

As she spoke, a painful memory flashed across her face. "But there was nothing we could do. The higher-ups weren't allocating any supplies. When we were in the desert, the rice and rations we were given were pitifully small. Sometimes we couldn't even find a single grain of rice. We couldn't just starve to death, could we? So we had no choice but to find banana leaves to fill our stomachs. We were lucky. I heard that some people even ate tree bark to stave off hunger."

Upon hearing this, Huang Zurong's smile gradually faded, replaced by a more serious expression.

Although he had never experienced that kind of hardship, he understood the helplessness people face in dire straits—when people are starving to the extreme, they would probably eat anything, not just banana leaves and tree bark, but even clay. Survival is never an easy thing.

These defeated soldiers only wanted to survive.

"It must have been tough on you all," Huang Zurong said softly, his brief words warming Lin Yi's heart and bringing tears to her eyes.

After all, they hadn't encountered such an understanding superior in a long time.

Perhaps sensing Lin Yi's change in mood, Huang Zurong smiled again and said confidently, "But you can rest assured now. Here, you'll be absolutely not shortchanged on food. Canned goods, dry rations, and jerky—eat as much as you want, there's no shortage!"

He couldn't guarantee anything else, but he was absolutely certain that he could ensure his brothers were well-fed and well-clothed, and that he could do it.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!" Lin Yi nodded hurriedly. Such a guarantee was already very good. As long as they could have enough to eat, it wouldn't be difficult for them to fight for the enemy.

Serving in the military and fighting wars is a matter of course.