novelAbuy Chapter 117 The Classroom of Iron and Fire
Chapter 117 The Classroom of Iron and Fire
The interview was in the afternoon. In a small room, Zhou Afu faced three military officers. The one in the middle was an elderly man with gray hair, wearing a neat military uniform, but he didn't recognize any of the medals on his chest.
"Zhou Afu?" the old man asked, his voice gentle.
"Yes."
"A Chaozhou native? Who else is in your family?"
"Mother, sister. Father... went out to sea to fish five years ago, got caught in a typhoon, and died."
The old man was silent for a few seconds, then wrote something on the paper: "Knows 500 characters, worked at the docks for three years, and is strong. Why do you want to join the army?"
Zhou Afu repeated what he had said that morning. This time he spoke even more fluently.
After listening, the old man asked, "If you were sent to fight in Southeast Asia, possibly against the Dutch, would you be afraid?"
"I'm not afraid," Zhou Afu said. "My father was sunk by a Dutch ship. They're used to bullying Chinese people."
"What if I asked you to shoot someone?"
Zhou Afu hesitated. He had been in fights, but he had never killed anyone.
"I...don't know," he said honestly, "but if they wanted to kill me, wanted to kill my mother and sister, I would have shot them."
The old man nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. He turned to the officer on his left: "Old Liu, what do you think?"
The officer, Old Liu, sized up Zhou Afu: "He's a good prospect. There's a fierce look in his eyes, but he's not wild. He could be in a machine gun squad."
"Machine gun squad?"
"Yes. The 'Swift' light machine gun, made in our own arsenal," Old Liu explained. "One per squad. The machine gunner needs to be steady, calm, and able to keep his eyes on the target and fire amidst a hail of bullets. I think this kid can do it."
The old man finally asked, "Zhou Afu, if we choose you, can you guarantee you'll obey orders and train diligently?"
"Yes." Zhou Afu straightened his back.
"Okay." The old man signed the document. "Go collect your equipment. You're assigned to the machine gun squad, 1st Platoon, 1st Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Regiment, 1st Division. Report here at 6:00 AM tomorrow."
When Zhou Afu walked out of the interview room, his legs were weak. He had been selected. £8 a month, housing in five years, his sister could go to school, and his mother would no longer have to do laundry.
He stood in the hallway for a while, then ran to the bathroom, closed the door, and cried.
He cried silently, tears streaming down his face. After crying for five minutes, he washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror.
She was nineteen, still had acne on her face, but her eyes were already shining.
"Dad," he said to himself in the mirror, "I will protect this family. I promise."
May 8, 1910, training base firing range.
The gunfire was deafening. Zhou Afu lay prone behind a sandbag cover, his shoulder against the butt of a Lewis light machine gun, his right index finger on the trigger. The machine gun emitted a continuous "rat-a-tat-tat" sound, spewing out a half-foot-long burst of flame, and spent cartridges rained down like golden drops onto the sand beside him.
"Short bursts! Three shots! Stop!" the squad leader yelled in his ear.
Zhou Afu released the trigger. Three crisp "clangs" came from the steel plate target 300 meters away—a perfect hit.
"Alright!" The squad leader patted his helmet. "Change to a drum magazine!"
Zhou Afu skillfully pressed the stopper, removed the empty 47-round drum magazine, took a new one from the ammunition box, and bolted the gun. The whole process took less than five seconds.
"Keep firing! Suppressive fire! Silent that bunker target!"
"Da da da da da—"
The Lewis machine gun roared once again. This air-cooled light machine gun was the pride of the Lanfang Arsenal. Weighing 11.5 kilograms, it had a rate of fire of 550 rounds per minute, an effective range of 800 meters, and used domestically developed 7.62×54mm rifle ammunition, compatible with rifle ammunition. For Zhou Afu, who was a dockworker just a month ago, this was a weapon he never dared to dream of.
He recalled that during his first live-fire exercise, his shoulder was bruised from the recoil, and his ears were ringing all day. The instructor said, "This gun was designed by us. The recoil is less than that of foreign guns, and the accuracy is higher. You need to train until you become one with the gun."
Now, he can control the rhythm of burst fire, observe the battlefield during the intervals of drum reloading, and quickly shift firepower according to the squad leader's instructions.
"Stop!" The squad leader raised his hand.
The gunfire stopped abruptly. Smoke slowly dissipated in the air, mingling with the smell of gunpowder and dust. Zhou Afu got up and dusted himself off.
"How is it?" the squad leader asked.
"The bullet impact point was slightly to the right, probably because the barrel got too hot," Zhou Afu said.
"You've learned to find the reasons, that's progress." The squad leader was a veteran named Wang Tiezhu, thirty years old, who had participated in the Java Overseas Chinese Protection Operation. He had a bullet wound on his left arm. "Remember, a machine gunner isn't just a machine to pull the trigger. You need to know the condition of the gun, know the ammunition consumption, know where the enemy is, and know where your comrades are. You are the core of the squad's firepower. If you die, half of the squad's firepower is gone."
"Understood." Zhou Afu stood at attention.
"Go get some water. We'll practice squad tactics this afternoon."
Zhou Afu walked to the rest area, where several of his comrades from the same class were already sitting. Li Wen was also there; he had become a communications soldier and was carrying a lightweight "Tingfeng-1" radio backpack.
"Ah Fu, you played well." Li Wen handed over a water bottle.
Zhou Afu took the bottle and gulped down a large mouthful: "How's your radio practice going?"
"We can send and receive telegrams now, but we still can't remember all the codes." Li Wen smiled wryly. "But our 'Wind Listening-1' is really useful. It weighs only half as much as the British ones, and it has a lot more power. Yesterday, I communicated with the base from 20 kilometers away, and the sound was crystal clear."
"What about submachine guns?" Zhou Afu asked. "I heard the squad leader is going to be equipped with an MP18 submachine gun?"
"It's already in the warehouse," Li Wen said in a low voice. "I saw it when I went to pick up the equipment yesterday. All-steel stamped parts, folding stock, 32-round magazine, using our own domestically produced pistol ammunition. The instructor said it's a deadly weapon for urban warfare; no one can stop it within fifty meters."
周阿福想起入伍教育时看到的武器清单：「MP18」式冲锋鎗、「刘易斯」式轻机枪、「M1917」式重机枪、「施耐德M1897式75毫米野战炮」、10.5厘米 leFH 16轻型野战榴弹炮……全部是兰芳兵工厂自产，设计图纸据说是大统领亲自审核过的。
"Isn't our equipment... a bit too good?" he whispered.
"How can we fight if we're not good enough?" Li Wen said seriously. "The instructors said that we're outnumbered, so we have to make up for it with equipment. The firepower of one Lanfang soldier is equivalent to that of three Dutch soldiers or five native soldiers. This is called 'quality for quantity'."
Just then, the assembly whistle blew. The afternoon's squad tactical training began.
The training ground was built to resemble the terrain of Southeast Asia—it included simulated rainforests, swamps, mountains, and even a miniature tropical town. Zhou Afu's machine gun squad was assigned to an offensive mission: to capture a "fortress" in the town center.
"Listen up!" Squad Leader Wang Tiezhu unfolded the map. "Our squad's mission is to provide fire support. Afu, your machine gun is at point A, controlling the main road. The assistant gunner is at point B, responsible for the flank. The rest of you spread out, riflemen provide cover, and the communications soldier reports the situation at any time."
"Squad leader," Zhou Afu asked, "what if the enemy has mortars?"
"Good question." Wang Tiezhu pointed to several marks on the map. "So we need to be quick. From entering the firing range to taking up the position, it can't take more than two minutes. Within two minutes, the enemy's mortars won't have time to react. After two minutes, regardless of whether we've taken the position or not, we must move."
He looked around the class:
"Remember, once a machine gun position is exposed, it's a sitting duck. So, the three principles are: fire fast, fire hard, and run fast. Understand?"
"clear!"
The drill began. Zhou Afu carried an 11.5-kilogram machine gun and followed his squad leader through the simulated streets. Sweat soaked through his training uniform, but he felt no fatigue, only a surge of adrenaline.
Upon reaching point A—the second floor of a partially collapsed brick building—he quickly set up the machine gun, and the assistant gunner unfolded the tripod and loaded a 100-round drum magazine. The entire process took forty-three seconds.
"The visibility is good; we can control the entire street," Zhou Afu reported.
"Wait for orders."
The company commander's voice came through the headset: "Attention all platoons, general attack in three minutes. Machine gun squad, prepare to suppress fire at the second-floor windows."
Zhou Afu adjusted his scope, aiming the crosshairs at a window 150 meters away. He could see a swaying shadow there—a Blue Team soldier playing the role of the enemy.
"Machine gun squad in position," Wang Tiezhu reported.
"Three, two, one, fire!"
"Da da da da da—"
Zhou Afu pulled the trigger. The bullet lashed out like a whip at the window, sending splinters flying and shattering glass. The Blue Team soldiers quickly retreated.
"Infantry, advance!"
On the street below, the comrades playing the Red Team crouched low and advanced rapidly. Zhou Afu's machine gun suppressed all possible firing positions, and spent shell casings piled up like a small mountain at his feet.
"Reload!" he shouted.
The assistant gunner quickly handed over a new drum magazine. The reload interval was less than three seconds, but in those three seconds, a gun suddenly appeared out of another window.
"Nine o'clock!" Zhou Afu shouted, his hands moving even faster.
The drum magazine was loaded, the bolt was reset, the aim was taken, and fire was fired. A burst of bullets went off, and then there was no more movement at the window.
"Target cleared!" he reported.
"Well done!" Wang Tiezhu patted him on the shoulder. "Keep the pressure on, the infantry are almost at the door!"
The entire attack lasted eight minutes. Eight minutes later, the Red team captured the "fortress," and the Blue team declared all members "dead."
The drill ended, and the debriefing began. Regiment Commander Zhao Dashan stood on the ruins, looking at his soldiers whose faces were covered in sweat and dust.