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

Time seemed to freeze, each second dragging on endlessly. In the regimental command post, the dim light of the oil lamp flickered, illuminating the hard lines of He Yuzhu's face. He sat at a table made of ammunition boxes, his fingers unconsciously stroking a corner of the map, his eyes fixed on the dark ceiling of the bunker—as if listening to something gathering in that deathly silence.

Old Geng leaned against the opposite earthen wall, clutching his submachine gun, his eyes closed, but his breathing was uneven. Political Commissar Zhao, in a corner, repeatedly checked the evacuation confirmation list by the dim light, the paper rustling softly as it rubbed together.

The phone suddenly rang.

It wasn't a ringtone, but a frantic, almost unbearable vibration. The operator grabbed the receiver, listened for half a sentence, and his face turned deathly pale: "Commander! Report from the forward observation post! Enemy artillery preparation—has begun! On an unprecedented scale!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the ground beneath his feet suddenly arched upwards.

It was like a sleeping behemoth being kicked hard.

Immediately afterwards, thousands upon thousands of explosions merged into a continuous, deafening roar, crashing down from the direction of Shangganling. The sound transcended the realm of mere "loudness," transforming into a violent pounding on chests and eardrums. Concrete ceilings crumbled, lanterns swayed wildly, and flames leaped high only to nearly go out. The air instantly became scorching, thick with the smell of dust and gunpowder—even through the thick mountainside.

He Yuzhu didn't move.

His hand, resting on the table, twitched almost imperceptibly, his fingertips touching the cold wooden surface. He could feel a tingling sensation running down his spine from his tailbone to the back of his neck. This wasn't artillery fire; it was divine retribution, a waterfall of steel and gunpowder cascading from the heavens.

In the distance, the thick darkness of the sky was completely torn apart.

Pale, sulfurous, and blood-red orbs of light bloomed, vanished, and bloomed again in the darkness, turning the horizon into a churning, boiling sea of ​​blood and fire. That was the entrance to hell, now wide open to the human world.

"communication!"

He Yuzhu's voice rang out amidst the roar, hoarse yet with a forced, suppressed steadiness.

Old Geng had rushed to the communications soldier's side. The crank of the hand-cranked telephone was being turned frantically, but only a shrill dial tone came through the receiver. The radio operator's face contorted with muscles as he frantically adjusted the knob: "Too much interference! It's all static! We can't contact the battalions! The division headquarters signal is down too!"

"Activate contingency plan two!"

He Yuzhu suddenly stood up, knocking over the wooden stool.

"Communications platoon, activate the backup foot route! Send communications personnel, in pairs, to the 1st, 2nd, 3rd Battalions, and artillery company! Verbally relay the order: all personnel immediately move to the deepest artillery shelters in the underground tunnels! No one is to show their face without my direct order! Regimental artillery, remain concealed and await orders; do not fire without clearly defined firing coordinates! Repeat—preserving strength is the top priority!"

Several prepared communications officers grabbed signal flags and identification badges and shot out of the violently shaking command post entrance like arrows, instantly swallowed up by the deafening noise and blinding light outside.

The order has been issued.

All we can do is wait.

He Yuzhu walked to the observation hole, pressing his palm against the cold, rough cement edge. Outside, the entire mountainside was burning and trembling. The destructive tremors were clearly audible from miles away, as if the earth was being repeatedly kneaded and torn apart by an invisible giant hand. Each continuous explosion made his heart clench painfully.

He could almost picture what was happening on those two high grounds of Shangganling—

That wasn't a battlefield, it was a furnace.

It is a place where flesh and steel are instantly vaporized.

Time lost its meaning amidst the roar. After an unknown amount of time, the artillery fire began to extend and shift deeper into the enemy territory. But the plumes of smoke rising from the direction of Shangganling had already formed several enormous mushroom clouds connecting heaven and earth, slowly spreading and obscuring the sky that was just beginning to lighten.

Its daybreak?

No, it was the artillery fire that turned the night into day, and then dragged the day into a hazy, smoke-filled darkness.

Just then, a communications soldier, covered in mud, his uniform torn by thorns, and blood trickling from his mouth, tumbled and crawled back to the command post:

"Commander! The Second Battalion's communication line was briefly established! Battalion Commander Wu reports that they have all moved into the tunnels, with minimal casualties! But... he says he sees the enemy coming from the direction of Shangganling! They're densely packed, tanks leading the way, like a tidal wave!"

Almost simultaneously, a messenger stumbled back from another direction, bringing similar information: the artillery fire was spreading, and a large number of enemy infantry, under armored cover, were beginning to charge the surface positions of Shangganling.

The real curtain has been raised.

The gears of the meat grinder began to turn, accompanied by a grating metallic scraping sound.

In the regimental command post, the radio, which had finally managed to regain signal, intermittently received call signs from different directions, accompanied by loud noise:

"...597.9! Requesting artillery support! Coordinates... Zzz..."

"Ammunition is running out too fast! There are too many enemies!..."

"Command post! We've lost contact with the left wing!..."

All that could be heard were the anxious, hoarse cries of the defenders of Shangganling.

Immediately afterwards, the division headquarters radio signal forced its way in, the sound was severely distorted, but the core words of the order were cold and clear:

"...All adjacent units...hold their positions with all their might...wait for the opportunity to provide support...at all costs...hold on..."

He Yuzhu closed his eyes.

Take a deep breath—the air is filled with dust and the smell of the apocalypse.

Then he opened his eyes and his gaze swept over every tense yet determined face in the command post.

"Reply to headquarters: Our regiment has entered defensive position according to plan, the position is stable, and we are closely monitoring the enemy in front of us." He paused, his voice lowering, "At the same time, notify all battalions, especially the 2nd and 3rd battalions near Shangganling, to send out elite observation posts for close reconnaissance. Take stock of all our mobile reserves and firepower, and be prepared... to be fed into that furnace at any time."

The command was relayed again.

The regimental command post temporarily regained its cold order, but everyone knew—they were standing on the edge of a precipice, with a fiery abyss below them that would devour everything. On the flanks, sporadic artillery fire had begun; it was the enemy probing and diverting attention.

He Yuzhu sat back down at the table and unfolded the map again.

His finger traced the narrow passage between Shangganling and his own defensive zone. The edges of the map were worn and frayed, and the defensive points and backup routes marked with pencil on it looked particularly vulnerable under the flickering light.

The pivotal historical battle of "Shangganling" has officially begun. The host's unit is currently positioned at a key outpost on the periphery of the battle.

[First day of operations (flank defense and reconnaissance engagement): Initial assessment of enemy annihilation effectiveness and tactical execution.]

[Gain Battle Points: +100,000.]

Battlefield Points: 6,408,398 + 100,000 = 6,508,398 points.

The dynamic points adjustment mechanism has been activated. Subsequent acquisition rates will be directly related to campaign participation depth, battle results value, and historical impact.

The points have changed.

One hundred thousand is no small number.

But compared to the continuous firelight outside the window that reddened half the sky and the faint, incessant muffled explosions, this number seemed pale and insignificant.

The real meat grinder has begun.

He and his group have been drawn into the deep, deadly roar of the giant gears as they first begin to turn.

The first day has just begun.