Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The sound of artillery fire rolled in from the north, like muffled thunder rolling across the frozen mountain ridges, making the soles of my feet numb. This was not sporadic shelling, but a continuous roar, indistinguishable in number, turning the horizon red. The Third Battle had begun.

When the order reached the reconnaissance company, He Yuzhu was squatting by the earthen stove, stirring the porridge in the pot—so thin you could see your reflection in it. "Advance deep into enemy territory and ascertain their second-line deployment, especially the positions of their mobile forces," the messenger officer said rapidly, his face showing the anxiety of an early battle. "The main force must infiltrate; we can't afford to run into a brick wall. You are the eyes; you must find out first."

"Understood." He Yuzhu put down his spoon and wiped his mouth. The soldiers who surrounded him immediately scraped the pot clean.

The company was deployed again, but this time it was different. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and rust, and the occasional roar of airplane engines swept overhead. Like a pack of silent cats, they crept southward in the intervals between artillery fire.

After two days and one night, they bypassed several checkpoints and climbed a ridge overlooking the highway and valley. He Yuzhu raised his binoculars, his fingers turning white from the effort.

Down in the valley, densely packed together weren't trucks—they were steel monsters draped in camouflage netting, their gun barrels pointing skyward. Shermans, and several more sturdy Pershings. They stood in a somewhat disorderly line, their engines still slightly running, wisps of white smoke rising from them. Nearby were tanker trucks and ammunition wagons, while infantrymen sat by the tracks smoking and warming themselves around fires. A rough count revealed no fewer than thirty vehicles.

A fully equipped tank battalion, along with accompanying mechanized infantry.

Old Geng, lying nearby, gasped, "My goodness... if they charge in, our few broken guns..."

Zhang Dashan's face turned pale: "What are they waiting for?"

"Wait for orders." He Yuzhu put down his binoculars, his voice hoarse. "Wait for our main force to crash in, or for our flanking troops to surface, then we'll rush out from here and cut them off in the middle." His rudimentary tactical knowledge was frantically alarming him—this was the counter-attack reserve, a heavy hammer hidden in its sheath.

A direct confrontation? A reconnaissance company wouldn't even be enough to fill the gaps between the tank battalion's teeth. Go around it? The mission is to reconnoiter the rear; discovering such a large fish but failing to ascertain its movements would be a colossal responsibility if the main force were to collide with it.

"The radio station." He Yuzhu held out his hand.

The communications soldier handed him the heavy metal object. He switched to the backup channel and quickly reported the coordinates, enemy situation, and scale in short messages. There was silence on the other end for nearly a minute before a reply, mixed with static, came through: "...monitor the movements, wait for an opportunity...delay. The main force's infiltration has begun; we cannot allow them to successfully engage."

Delaying and waiting for an opportunity. Four words, light as a feather, yet weighing a ton on one's shoulders.

How can it be delayed? By using flesh and blood to block steel?

He Yuzhu closed his eyes. The low growl of the engine below seemed to be right next to his ear. His mind raced through the grayed-out, locked icons on the system panel—one of them being, "Basic Vehicle Driving and Related Maintenance." He had always thought this skill wasn't very useful in the reconnaissance company, but now…

A crazy idea pops up like a spark on an ice field. It doesn't necessarily mean driving them away, but understanding them might reveal how to stop them... or make them run wild.

"Old Geng, Dashan," he opened his eyes, his pupils reflecting the cold gleam of steel below the mountain, "We won't confront them head-on. But since we're already here, we have to leave a 'gift,' we can't let them comfortably run over our people."

He quickly unfolded the map, his finger tracing the two roads leading north and east through the valley: "First Company, Second Company, spread out in squads and platoons, and deploy your forces at these intersections and narrow sections. Gather all the explosives, make super-large explosive charges, and plant chain-link detonators. Gather all the Molotov cocktails, and if that's not enough—" He paused, "I have some 'stockpiles,' which I'll distribute later."

The "inventory" consists of solidified gasoline raw materials and simple bottle and can assembly that I just urgently redeemed with 2,000 points.

"The third company, the ones with the best marksmanship and the most courage, will disperse into the rocky woods on both sides of the hillside. Their mission is not to shoot tanks, but to shoot people—specifically, tank commanders, commanding officers, and infantrymen who try to get out of their tanks for repairs. It's a sniping operation; fire one shot and move on."

"Fourth Company, act as reserve, follow me on the move."

The order was given, and the company sprang into action like a precision machine. No one questioned this near-suicidal mission—after several successful hunts, He Yuzhu's words had become an ironclad rule. The soldiers silently gathered their personal TNT, which the veteran demolition experts converted into cluster explosive packs. Molotov cocktails were quickly assembled and distributed to the agile soldiers.

He Yuzhu personally surveyed the terrain, selecting several passes and bends where tanks would have difficulty deploying and infantry could not effectively cover them. Explosives were buried under the road surface and beside the cliffs, camouflaged with frozen soil and gravel, and connected by intricate tripwires. Molotov cocktails were placed further forward in the bushes and dry meadows, linked together with thin wires.

The setup lasted for most of the day. Smoke rose from the tank battalion's cooking fires a few times down the mountain, and engines occasionally roared, but the steel mass remained dormant. He Yuzhu's heart was in his throat the whole time, and he only breathed a sigh of relief and lay back down at the observation point after each group reported that the "gifts" had been placed and the personnel had entered their ambush positions.

As dusk fell, the setting sun cast long shadows of the tanks. Finally, the sound of engines starting echoed from the foot of the mountain, and headlights illuminated one after another, like the awakening eyes of a monster. The tanks began to crawl and turn, belching black smoke, and slowly drove out of the assembly area, escorted by infantry, splitting into two groups heading north and east onto the roads.

coming.

He Yuzhu licked his chapped lips, his fingers touching the detonator—the key point was secured with a remote safety. Through his binoculars, he stared intently at the Sherman that had entered the narrow section of road first.

The tracks rolled over the medicine-burying site.

He pressed the button.

It did not explode immediately.

My heart skipped a beat—a malfunction?

Just as most of the tank's hull had passed—

boom!!!!

An underground volcanic eruption! A massive fireball and thick smoke instantly engulfed the rear half of the tank! The shockwave not only tore apart the tracks and road wheels, but also detonated a series of explosives on the cliff face!

Boom boom boom!!!

Explosions rang out one after another along the narrow road! Debris and mud shot into the sky, and a Pershing tank following closely behind was half-buried by the collapsing earth and rocks, its turret twisted awkwardly to one side. The third tank tried to turn, but its wide body crashed into a steep roadside embankment, veered off course, and its tracks spun freely, kicking up snow dust.

Almost simultaneously, Molotov cocktails in the roadside bushes and shrubs were ignited by the blast wave or shrapnel, and in an instant, dozens of fires shot up and quickly formed a wall of fire! The dry winter vegetation and solidified gasoline became excellent fuel, and the raging flames blocked the road, billowing thick smoke, emitting suffocating heat and a pungent smell.

The tank column was thrown into chaos! Those paralyzed by the explosion were stuck in the road, unable to move forward or backward. Some tried to reverse but collided with each other in the narrow passage. The crew members were dazed and confused, frantically opening their hatches.

Just then, sniper shots rang out from both sides of the hillside.

Snapped!Snapped!Snapped!

Bullets flew precisely from the cracks in the rocks and through the forest. A tank commander, who had just poked his head out, fell silently back into the tank as blood splattered from his helmet. An officer who had jumped off the tank to direct traffic was shot down beside the tracks before he could even stand properly. The accompanying infantry were also targeted—they had relied on the tanks for movement, but now that the tanks themselves were in danger, the exposed infantry became live targets. Forced by sniper fire and the ever-spreading flames, they scrambled for cover, unable to mount any effective counterattack.

Without close infantry protection, the tanks were trapped in a maelstrom of fire and the chaotic roadblocks created by explosions, their massive steel bodies becoming a hindrance. They futilely turned their turrets, their machine guns firing aimlessly across the hillside, struggling to hit the cleverly concealed snipers. The radio was filled with panicked cries and chaotic orders.

He Yuzhu didn't seek personal credit. Seeing that the predetermined objectives had been achieved—paralyzing the vanguard, creating chaos, and delaying the entire battalion—he immediately shouted into the radio: "All groups, withdraw in the predetermined order! No lingering!"

The ambushers slipped away like cats, using the terrain and darkness to retreat deeper into the mountains. Behind them lay burning roads, paralyzed steel behemoths, bewildered enemy troops, and a completely disrupted offensive rhythm.

They retreated more than ten miles in one go and rested in a sheltered mountain hollow. He Yuzhu sat down against a rock and realized that his back was soaked with cold sweat, the cold sweat clinging to his skin. A headcount was taken: two dead, five wounded, one seriously injured.

As the medic bandaged the wounded, Old Geng suddenly cursed under his breath and slammed his fist into the frozen ground—the fallen Xiao Li was a soldier he had brought from his hometown, only nineteen years old. Zhang Dashan silently picked up Xiao Li's scattered ammunition magazines and put them in his pocket.

He Yuzhu closed his eyes.

[Successfully delayed the enemy's armored counterattack, buying valuable time for the main force to penetrate.]

The tactics employed were highly creative, resulting in the heavy destruction of the enemy tank battalion at minimal cost.

[Based on battlefield contribution assessment, you will receive +120000 battlefield points.]

Current battlefield score: 409398 + 120000 = 529398 points.

Main quest progress: 529398 / 100,000,000 ≈ 0.529%

[The conditions for eliminating and effectively destroying enemy armored vehicles have been significantly improved, greatly advancing the unlocking of the skill "Basic Vehicle Driving and Related Maintenance". Current progress: Significant.]

120,000 points. Total points surpassed 500,000. Vehicle driving skills are on the verge of unlocking.

But He Yuzhu couldn't be happy. He spread out the map, his finger tracing the location of their ambush, then looking in the direction the main force was moving—how much time could this intelligence and delay buy him? He could almost hear the vibrations of tanks crushing the ground, see the bewildered and terrified faces of young enemy infantrymen beside the overturned tanks, and his own brothers forever left behind by the scorched road.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Before the overwhelming tide of steel, human life was as fragile as paper. But he still had to lead many more people, tearing a bloody path through this paper-thin fate.