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

The days at Dingziyan were spent enduring the bombardment inch by inch. Enemy shells rained down like a madman's drum, regardless of whether they hit or not, just to remind you: they held a grudge. The soldiers of the reconnaissance battalion were half-deaf from the bombardment, their eyes sunken, huddled in tunnels and foxholes, surviving on fried noodle gruel.

He Yuzhu felt completely drained. Staring at maps and observation reports day and night, his nerves were stretched to the limit, and his dreams were filled with screams. The warmth and subtle warnings coming from behind were all blurred into a background by the life-or-death situation before him.

But the battlefield always offers something new. When they encountered a obstacle on the ground, the enemy raised their heads.

At first, the sound of aircraft engines grew more frequent, rolling arrogantly along the mountain ridges. Later, the observation post reported a new aircraft type—slender fuselage, swept-back wings, and speed that left the old anti-aircraft guns far behind. A new codename began to circulate on the communications channel: "Sabre".

Then, the nightmare escalated. These "Sabers" were no longer content with reconnaissance and sporadic firing; they swarmed towards the rear supply lines. Bombs rained down, shattering the already fragile supply routes. Even more ruthless, they began hurling a new weapon at the positions: napalm bombs.

The object plummeted from the sky, exploding into a ghastly white ball of fire the moment it hit the ground. The viscous flames clung to everything, burning and crackling the rocks, while thick, poisonous black smoke billowed up. A company on the flank was the first to be attacked. Although the casualties were not heavy, the sight of burning flesh clinging to the ground, which could not be extinguished, and the strange smell of charred flesh mixed with chemicals in the air, cast a heavy shadow over everyone's hearts.

Supply lines were completely cut off. Ammunition, medicine, and even the daily ration of fried noodles couldn't be delivered. Dingziyan had become an isolated island. Old Geng, licking his chapped lips, found He Yuzhu, his voice hoarse: "Battalion Commander, if this continues, we'll die of thirst even before the enemy comes up."

He Yuzhu squatted at the observation post, watching the few arrogant black dots circling on the horizon. He knew that the few old-fashioned anti-aircraft machine guns on the position and his limited knowledge of air defense were simply not enough to stop them. The intermediate technology preview in the system might have more advanced air defense knowledge, but it was too late to solve the immediate problem, and large-scale exchange was not realistic.

He needed something that would produce immediate results without being conspicuous. His consciousness sank into the system.

Points: 5,641,398.

【兑换：FIM-43「红眼睛」单兵防空飞弹（早期型，系统做旧处理）x 4套（含训练弹1发/实战弹2发），-50,000积分。】

This thing was almost science fiction for this era, but the system promised to give it an aged look and simplify its functions, making it look like an "experimental spoil" or a "test weapon secretly provided," and it was known only to him and a very small number of core members. The risk was extremely high, but he had no other choice.

[Exchange complete. Item has been placed at the designated hiding spot.]

Battlefield Points: 5,641,398 - 50,000 = 5,591,398 points.

He Yuzhu summoned Lao Geng and Wu Dayong, telling them it was a "new type of anti-aircraft weapon" that the division headquarters had obtained through special channels, and that it was highly classified. He led the two men to a concealed location that very night and retrieved four heavy, long tubes and their accompanying battery cooling units. The items looked old and worn, with worn paint, resembling large rocket launchers, but their structure was far more complex.

Using the simplified operating instructions instilled by the system, he urgently trained Lao Geng, Wu Dayong, and two other veterans who kept their mouths shut. The training could only be conducted deep inside the tunnel, using a training round to simulate the sounds of aiming and locking.

The opportunity soon arrived. Two days later, two Sabre fighter jets roared toward a suspected stockpile site on the side and rear of Nail Rock, preparing to drop petrol bombs. One of them dived extremely low for accuracy.

He Yuzhu personally led a launch team to ambush at the pre-designated position. The enemy plane swooped down with a piercing scream. He suppressed his tension, activated the missile, and locked onto the increasingly large fuselage with the optical sight. The moment the buzzer sounded the lock-on notification, he pulled the trigger.

"Swoosh—Boom!"

The missile, trailing a white smoke contrail, hurtled toward its target like an angry spear. The pilot of the Sabre was clearly unprepared for such a weapon on the ground; he pulled up in panic, but it was too late. The missile exploded near the belly of the aircraft, which shuddered violently and veered off course into a distant valley, bursting into a fireball.

A moment of silence fell over the position, then a suppressed cheer erupted. They'd shot it down! They'd taken down a jet fighter with ground weapons!

But He Yuzhu was far from happy. Only three missiles remained; each one fired reduced their supply. This attack was tantamount to declaring to the enemy: Dingziyan possessed the capability to threaten their advanced fighter jets. The ensuing retaliation would only be more ferocious.

As expected, the enemy attacks became more cautious and cunning. They used their altitude and speed advantages to conduct strafing and long-range bombing runs. The remaining three missiles were used to repel another attack and damage another enemy aircraft in the following days before being exhausted.

The real test arrived one afternoon. To eliminate this thorn in their side, a formation of four enemy aircraft launched a concentrated air raid on the main position at Dingziyan. Instead of dropping bombs, they took turns diving and carpet-bombing the ground with their machine guns and rockets. Bullets and rockets plowed through the ground, sending rocks flying and dust billowing, almost leveling the surface fortifications.

He Yuzhu was transferring the wounded inside the partially collapsed bunker. As the enemy planes dove for the third time, machine gun bullets lashed out like whips near the bunker, scattering dirt everywhere. The next volley of fire would surely cover this area.

"Machine gun! Shoot that son of a bitch down!" someone roared.

The only usable old M2 heavy machine gun remaining on the position was a previously captured weapon, mounted in a relatively sturdy bunker. The gunner fired wildly at the diving enemy, but the bullet trajectories seemed weak and ineffective against the high-speed target.

As He Yuzhu watched the enemy plane closing in, its rocket launchers clearly visible beneath its wings, his blood rushed to his head. He lunged forward, shoving aside the gunner who was nearly out of control due to tension and anger: "I'll do it!"

He lunged behind the machine gun, the cold grip of the barrel pressed against his shoulder. There were no missiles, no advanced fire control system, just this old man and a few hundred rounds of ammunition. Those scattered pieces of anti-aircraft knowledge—lead, velocity estimation, firing axis—were simply not enough to be calculated in that life-or-death moment.

He could only rely on his instincts. His eyes were fixed on the ever-growing dark shape, estimating its dive trajectory and speed. He steadied the heavy gun with both hands and aimed at a large stretch of airspace in front of the plane.

The enemy planes began launching rockets, leaving trails of white smoke in their tails.

"Now!" He Yuzhu pulled the trigger.

"Thump thump thump thump thump..." The M2 roared continuously and dully, spitting out long tongues of fire from its muzzle, and the spent cartridges rained down. He pressed down hard on the gun, using all his strength to fight the recoil, trying to make the bullets point as far as possible to the predicted point.

Time seemed to slow down. He could see the trail of fire from his own tracer rounds rapidly approaching the enemy plane's dive trajectory. Bullets struck the empty air in front of the aircraft, kicking up dust as they hit the ground… Suddenly, the Sabre's fuselage shuddered violently, and a small plume of black smoke erupted from the right engine. Immediately afterward, the plane emitted a sharp, strange noise, its dive attitude disrupted. The pilot was clearly panicked, desperately pulling the nose up, but the plane had already lost its balance, tilting and trailing increasingly thick black smoke. It didn't climb any further, but instead swayed and glided towards the other side of the battle line, eventually disappearing from sight—it seemed that a forced landing was the best outcome.

The position was deathly silent, save for the hissing of the overheated machine gun barrel and He Yuzhu's own heavy breathing. He released the trigger, his shoulder tingling from the impact, his ears ringing.

Someone shouted first, "Hit! The battalion commander hit it!"

The cheers erupted, hoarse and exhausted, yet filled with the fervor of someone who had escaped death. A high-speed jet fighter, forced to make a smoke-filled emergency landing by heavy machine gun fire from the ground—it was almost a miracle, a miracle created by their battalion commander himself.

He Yuzhu leaned against the scorching hot machine gun shield, panting heavily, his heart still pounding in his chest. In that instant, he hadn't thought of anything, only instinct and a fierce determination. Now, looking back, a chilling fear crept up his spine. The rocket had almost landed.

He looked up and saw Qin Huairu standing by a shell crater not far away, watching him. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were extremely complex—shock, worry, and a hint of knowing heaviness. She held a notebook in her hand, but didn't take any notes.

He Yuzhu gave her a forced smile, bent down to pick up a flattened military water bottle from the ground, shook it, and found there was only a sip of water left. He unscrewed the cap, didn't drink it, and handed it to the wounded soldier next to him whose lips were cracked and bleeding.

[The successful use of unconventional methods and existing weapons to counter enemy air raids, shooting down and damaging advanced enemy aircraft, greatly boosted morale.]

[Gain Battle Points: +100,000.]

Based on real-world combat against aerial threats, we have successfully mastered "basic field air defense tactics," enhancing our capabilities in air early warning, firepower organization, and the use of basic weapons for air defense.

Battlefield Points: 5,591,398 + 100,000 = 5,691,398 points.

With his points nearing 5.69 million, he was one step closer to 6 million. The newly acquired air defense knowledge settled in his mind, but He Yuzhu only felt tired at this moment—a kind of exhaustion that seeped from the very marrow of his bones.

The aerial threat was temporarily repelled by this reckless attack, but everyone knew that this would only make the enemy hate them more and want to wipe them off the hilltop even more. And they were almost out of water.