Chapter 213: Eat This, Dammit
Just as the Japanese high command was in chaos, blaming each other, and urgently deploying troops due to the disastrous air battle at Jiuqu River Airport, about eighty kilometers away from Jiuqu River Airport, a place called “Golden Sand Ridge” was quietly undergoing earth-shaking changes.
Golden Sand Ridge, as the name implies, was once famous far and wide for its abundant production of gold sand.
That was many years ago, perhaps during the late Qing Dynasty or the early Republic of China. When the first handful of glittering golden sand shone in this desolate mountain ridge, it was like igniting a spark that spread like wildfire, quickly attracting thousands of gold prospectors harboring dreams of striking it rich.
They surged in from all directions, carrying crude tools and burning desires, and took root on this land that was originally rarely visited by humans.
In less than a year, Golden Sand Ridge was bustling with activity and dust flying everywhere.
Crude shacks sprang up like mushrooms after rain, forming chaotic yet vibrant temporary settlements.
The clanging of pickaxes and shovels, the swishing of gold pans, the ecstatic shouts of people finding gold sand, and the quarrels or even fights over territory or interests rang day and night, together composing the noisy symphony of that brief “golden age.”
However, good times did not last. Nature’s gifts are not endless.
After less than two years of frenzied plundering extraction, the gold sand on the surface and shallow layers of Golden Sand Ridge was soon exhausted.
Those golden particles that once drove countless people mad vanished like a flash in the pan.
Hopes shattered, and the prospectors’ enthusiasm dissipated as quickly as the ebbing tide.
They left in droves, just as they had come, dragging their families, cursing and swearing, heading off to seek the next “promised land” that might bring wealth.
Behind them, only this mountain ridge, riddled with holes, pitted and pockmarked like it had been gnawed by giant beasts, and the vast plain below, equally ravaged and unrecognizable, remained.
Wind, sun, rain, and the passage of time wore it down. Golden Sand Ridge was gradually forgotten by the world and returned to its former silence and desolation.
The abandoned mine pits, collapsed shacks, and rusted tools scattered everywhere stood like silent tombstones, recounting that brief and mad era of gold prospecting.
However, in recent times, this Golden Sand Ridge, silent for many years, welcomed its “rebirth” once again.
This time, those arriving were no longer wealth-chasing prospectors, but thousands of common folk and large numbers of soldiers in gray-stone-colored uniforms. They were not here for the illusory gold sand; their goal was the abandoned land itself.
Under unified command and scheduling, a massive engineering project was unfolding in full swing on Golden Sand Ridge and the surrounding plains.
The common folk, mostly young and strong men and women organized from nearby villages, wielded the most primitive shovels, hoes, shoulder poles, and baskets. Under the leadership and guidance of the uniformed soldiers, they began leveling the pitted land left by excessive mining.
The soldiers appeared even more professional and efficient.
They were not only commanders and supervisors but also the main labor force. Among them were even some obvious combat engineers or technical soldiers operating dozens of bulldozers and road rollers that had been transported from who-knows-where, emitting deafening roars.
These steel behemoths were absolute rarities in the inland regions of China in that era.
Like diligent worker ants, they leveled the uneven mounds, filled the pits of varying depths, and then compacted the loose soil repeatedly with heavy rollers.
Dust filled the sky, and work chants, machine roars, and tool clangs echoed through Golden Sand Ridge once more. But this time, it was not for personal greed, but for a grander goal.
As time passed, the plains around Golden Sand Ridge were changing at a visible speed.
The former pits and ruins were gradually replaced by flat, solid ground.
Next, in areas precisely measured and planned, new buildings began rising from the ground.
These buildings included brick-and-stone barracks and warehouses, temporary hangars and repair workshops made of wood and tarps, and sturdy fortifications clearly for military use poured with reinforced concrete, such as the framework of command towers, foundations of ammunition depots, and so on.
And the most eye-catching among them were eight straight, wide runways under meticulous construction!
The length and width of these runways far exceeded the specifications of ordinary small airports.
Workers layered gravel and sand soil, then repeatedly rolled it with road rollers, striving to make it solid and smooth.
Taxiways and aprons were also reserved on both sides of the runways.
When the outline of the main runway preliminarily emerged, even the most ordinary laborers could guess what was being built here… It was clearly another airport! Moreover, from its scale and investment, this airport seemed to be of a higher grade than Jiuqu River Airport!
As construction progressed, more and more soldiers began stationed at Golden Sand Ridge. Armed, they set up sentries and patrol lines on the airport’s perimeter, strictly sealing off all roads leading here and prohibiting any unrelated personnel from approaching.
A tense and mysterious atmosphere began to envelop this former gold rush land.
At dawn, when the first faint morning light pierced the eastern clouds, plating Golden Sand Airport with a layer of pale gold, neat but slightly immature slogan chants broke the construction site’s clamor, echoing on the simple playground beside the airport.
“One! Two! Three! Four!”
“One two three four!”
Teams of young people in new but slightly oversized gray-yellow training uniforms were running while striving to maintain formation neatness, led by several tall, variously hued “foreign” instructors, undergoing dull and grueling physical training.
These youngsters, mostly aged seventeen or eighteen to early twenties, still bore childish innocence on their faces, but their eyes sparkled with longing for the skies and aspirations for the future.
They were the first batch of flight trainees carefully selected by Su Yaoyang from outstanding soldiers of the militia and patriotic students recruited from various places.
Many of them, not long ago, were perhaps farm boys from the fields or frail scholars buried in books at school.
Now, they had become Shanxi Militia’s first batch of pilots, soon to shoulder the heavy responsibility of defending the nation’s airspace.
But most of them were still too immature; they first underwent weeks of basic military training, including discipline, formation, weapon use（mainly for self-defense）, military regulations, physical training, etc., to complete the transformation from civilians to soldiers.
The young flight trainees, burdened with heavy M1 Garand rifles, endured endless weighted long runs amid the instructors’ roar-like shouts that were like death knells.
In the group, a fair-skinned, scholarly-looking young man with a bookish air was in the worst shape.
Sweat had long soaked his gray-yellow training uniform, clinging tightly to his body and outlining his slender frame trembling from extreme fatigue.
His cheeks were unnaturally pale from oxygen deprivation and exhaustion, his lips bloodless and chapped.
Every step felt as heavy as lead, his legs burning with pain like pierced by countless steel needles.
His chest heaved violently, each breath a hoarse bellows sound, his throat feeling stuffed with fire, scorching and dry.
The Garand rifle that should have been on his back now felt like a thousand-pound burden, pressing him almost unable to straighten up.
The rifle butt’s edge dug painfully into his shoulder, while the cold barrel grew slippery from his sweaty palms, nearly slipping several times.
Objects in his vision began blacking out in waves, his ears buzzing, the instructors’ harsh bellows growing distant and blurred.
“I can’t make it… really… can’t…” Li Yufeng groaned despairingly in his heart, feeling his consciousness fading.
Just as he felt he was reaching his limit and about to collapse, a strong, powerful hand suddenly reached from the side, grabbing the strap of his backpacked Garand rifle, while the other hand tightly gripped his arm.
“Li Yufeng… hold on! Don’t fall behind!” A slightly breathless but still resounding voice rang in his ear.
Li Yufeng arduously turned his head and saw a dark, honest face—it was his sturdy roommate from rural southern Shanxi, Zhu Jin.
Before Li Yufeng could react, Zhu Jin deftly took the Garand rifle from his back and slung it along with his own onto his shoulder.
Two rifles together weighed nearly forty pounds, no light burden for anyone, but Zhu Jin acted as if it were nothing, just grinning at Li Yufeng to reveal a mouthful of white teeth.
“Come on! I’ll pull you! Keep up!” Zhu Jin said, tightening his grip on Li Yufeng’s arm and yanking him forward.
A warm current surged into Li Yufeng’s heart, dispelling some of his physical fatigue and inner despair.
Looking at Zhu Jin’s broad back and the two heavy rifles on his shoulder, his nose tingled. He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat felt blocked, unable to make a sound.
He could only nod vigorously, grit his teeth, force his heavy legs forward, and continue running under Zhu Jin’s pull and lead.
Time ticked by, the sun climbing higher, scorching the earth. After another long, agonizing stretch, just as the trainees felt their strength utterly depleted, barely able to lift a finger, a devilish voice finally rang out with a touch of “mercy.”
“Stop! Rookies! Five minutes rest! Five minutes later, continue!”
“Hoo…”
Pardoned! All trainees halted almost simultaneously, then collapsed bonelessly to the ground, gasping greedily for the dusty air.
Li Yufeng, heedless of anything else, plopped down, feeling his body about to fall apart.
Trembling, he fished a palm-sized, yellowish compressed biscuit from his worn canvas pouch at his waist, shoved it into his mouth without wiping the sweat and dirt from his hands, and wolfed it down with water from his canteen.
“Hey… Li Yufeng! You…” Zhu Jin started to stop him, but it was too late.
A black shadow whirled over like a whirlwind. With a dull “thud” and a pained grunt, Li Yufeng was knocked backward like hit by a wild bull!
The eyepatch-wearing instructor had somehow appeared before him, his cold lone eye flashing undisguised fury. He had just mercilessly kicked Li Yufeng in the stomach!
The sudden kick made Li Yufeng see stars, a sharp pain in his abdomen leaving him breathless. The half biscuit in his hand dropped into the sandy dirt.
“Idiot! Who allowed you to eat now?”
One-Eyed Jack roared in his stiff Chinese, spittle nearly spraying Li Yufeng’s face.
Then, his heavy-booted foot stomped ruthlessly on the fallen half biscuit, grinding it to crumbs mixed with the sand and soil.
Li Yufeng was shocked, angry, aggrieved, and scared. He struggled to rise, but the abdominal pain sapped his strength. Staring at the ruined biscuit, his eyes filled with despair.
“Pick it up! Eat it!”
The surrounding trainees were stunned, watching One-Eyed Jack’s ferocious visage and Li Yufeng’s wretched state, all silent as mice, not daring to breathe.
Zhu Jin wanted to plead, but swallowed his words at One-Eyed Jack’s icy glare.
Tears welled in Li Yufeng’s eyes; he felt utter humiliation and rage.
Eat dirt-mixed biscuit? It was worse than death!
“Why?” He roared in defiance.
Jack sneered, his massive head nearly touching Li Yufeng’s face. “Why… because I’m your rookie instructor! If you’re not convinced, get out of my team right now! My team doesn’t need a stupid rookie!
Rookie, choose now: stay as a sand-eating idiot or be a warrior defying your instructor?”
Facing the hideous one-eyed foreigner’s detestable face, Li Yufeng several times wanted to hurl his cap and yell he quit, but finally he gritted his teeth, endured the abdominal pain and inner humiliation, tremblingly scooped up the sandy biscuit crumbs bit by bit, closed his eyes, and shoved them into his mouth…
The grit of sand, dryness of biscuit, and saltiness of tears mixed into an indescribable nauseating taste, assaulting his palate and throat.
Tears streaming, he fought vomit, laboriously chewing and swallowing…
This moment felt more agonizing for Li Yufeng than the endless weighted run before.
One-Eyed Jack coldly watched Li Yufeng eat the “special” biscuit until confirmed swallowed, then slowly withdrew his gaze.
“Remember! In my team, no sympathy, no pity! Only obedience and discipline! If you can’t take this, get out now! Don’t waste food or dream of becoming qualified pilots!” One-Eyed Jack scanned all trainees with an icy voice.
Finished, he ignored the ashen-faced Li Yufeng slumped on the ground and walked to the front of the group.
“Rest over! All up! Prepare for next training!”
Trainees dared not delay, scrambling up to reform ranks.
Zhu Jin glanced worriedly at Li Yufeng, wanting to help, but was stopped by Li Yufeng’s look.
Biting his teeth, summoning all strength, Li Yufeng wobbled to his feet and returned to the ranks.
Not far away, Doolittle stood arms crossed, calmly watching, shaking his head helplessly. “Jack is still so brutally straightforward.”
“But this tempers the trainees, integrating them into the team fastest, right?” A voice sounded behind him.
“Boss, why are you here too?” Doolittle turned to see Su Yaoyang standing behind him.
“Had to come. I’m eager for our first pilots to grow up quickly.” Su Yaoyang smiled, stepping forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Doolittle.
Watching the pilots run off into the distance, Doolittle asked curiously, “Boss, you’ve been busy these days. How do you have time to check on new trainee training?”
“Because the stuff you wanted has arrived. I need to oversee the installation personally.”
“Boss, you mean the simulators are here?” Doolittle beamed.
“Of course!”
“Boss, take me to see!”
Doolittle, forgetting everything else, immediately dragged Su Yaoyang to see the new arrivals.
Soon, they entered a warehouse over a thousand square meters, once empty but now lined with a row of machines—crude plane-like devices paired with instrument panels.
Gazing at the ugly simulators, Doolittle grinned joyfully. He stepped up, touching and examining, then turned excitedly. “Boss, with this, I can cut trainee training from a year to half.”
“Really? That’s great!”
Su Yaoyang grinned too. Halving flight trainee training time—this thing was worth it.
