Courtyard House: From Deputy Division Commander to Civilian, Progressing All the Way

Lin Weidong displayed astonishing mechanical talent and tactical intuition.

His eyes, so much like Lin Yang's, seemed to have an innate ability to see through the structure of these steel machines. While others needed a week to memorize the parameters of the fire control system, he could recite them fluently in just three days; while others were dizzy and nauseous from the diesel fumes in the cramped tank compartment, he could accurately lock onto the target in the scope even amidst the turbulence.

A live-fire exercise.

Strong winds swept through the area, reducing visibility to less than 500 meters.

As new recruits, they were originally only qualified to observe. However, due to a sudden case of acute appendicitis in the gunner of a tank, the crew was short-handed, and Company Commander Gao made an exception and let Lin Weidong fill in.

Inside the cramped and stuffy turret, Lin Weidong sat in the gunner's position, his hands firmly gripping the handwheels of the azimuth and elevation mechanisms.

"Armor-piercing rounds, loaded!" the loader shouted.

Lin Weidong's eyes were glued to the eyepiece of the scope. In the sandstorm, the abandoned tank target 1,500 meters away was faintly visible.

"Target directly ahead, distance 1500, wind speed 8 meters per second..." Lin Weidong's brain was like a sophisticated computer, rapidly calculating various lead times and correction parameters.

He held his breath and, the instant the target emerged from the sandstorm, slammed on the firing pedal.

boom!

The 100mm rifled gun roared deafeningly. The immense recoil jolted the entire tank violently, and the turret instantly filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke.

A few seconds later, a startled cry came through the radio from the observation post.

"Hit! Bullseye! The target is completely pierced!"

"Only a thousand rounds?" Lin Yang frowned.

"Minister, refining tungsten alloys is extremely difficult. In addition, transportation across the country is currently disrupted, and ore cannot be transported in. Director Lin and the workers worked for three days and three nights without sleep to produce this much output," Zhao Lichun explained.

Lin Yang stood up and walked to the map.

A thousand rounds. Although the quantity is small, if used wisely, it could change the course of a local war.

"Lichun, listen up." Lin Yang turned around and gave the order.

"Immediately send a top-secret telegram to Factory 101 in the Southwest. Load all 1,000 of these new armor-piercing rounds onto trains. Mobilize the fastest military train that the ministry can control, equip it with the highest-level clearance markings, and take it directly to the border front lines in Xinjiang and Northeast China!"

"Anyone who dares to stop this special train at this critical juncture under the pretext of investigating class background or arresting capitalists, without asking for permission, have the escorting internal security troops shoot them dead! This batch of shells is for the lives of the soldiers on the front lines; not a single one can be missing!"

Zhao Lichun stiffened and immediately stood at attention: "Understood! I'll personally go to the Ministry of Railways to coordinate. Even if it's like holding a knife to their throats, I'll guarantee this train will have a smooth journey!"

"Also," Lin Yang called out to Zhao Lichun, who was about to leave, his gaze fixed intently on the direction of Xinjiang.

"Distribute 300 rounds directly to the Independent Armored Division of the Xinjiang Production and Construction Corps. Give them to Kong Jie."

Zhao Lichun's heart skipped a beat. He knew, of course, that Lin Yang's son and nephew were in the recruit company of that division.

The minister was giving his own flesh and blood a life-saving weapon. But he also knew that once this weapon was delivered, it would mean that the two teenagers would truly face the Soviet Union's overwhelming force.

"Yes! I'll take care of it right away!" Zhao Lichun said no more and turned to leave quickly.

The timeline moves to early spring of 1969.

The ice and snow began to melt, but the atmosphere along the border plummeted to freezing point.

A border patrol area in Xinjiang.

The fierce wind swept up the withered grass and snow on the ground, raging across the desolate Gobi Desert.

Five old Type 59 tanks, arranged in a wedge-shaped attack formation, are conducting a routine patrol on our side of the border.

In the gunner's position of the third tank, fourteen-year-old Lin Weidong was cautiously scanning the horizon ahead through the periscope.

Months of wind and sand have roughened his once fair face, making it dark and rough. The boyish innocence in his eyes is gone, replaced by the composure of a veteran.