Chapter 40: Seven Newcomers?

In the modern world, many have always mocked the five main主力 forces of the Nationalist Army for their rapid collapse under the "millet and rifle" assault of our army, suggesting they were perhaps not as formidable as their reputation implied.

In reality, their combat effectiveness was quite impressive, forged and hardened by the blood and iron of the Japanese invaders during the War of Resistance. Their poor performance later against our army was primarily because the fundamental nature of the war had shifted; there was no longer any cause that could compel them to risk everything in battle.

— Excerpt from Hu Biao's Diary, "The Collection" —

In the time that followed, amid the lingering sobs in Zhu Cong's voice, Hu Biao learned more about the situation.

It was already October 9th, the 26th year of the Republic of China. More than a month had passed since he had fainted at the No. 7 position on the left wing of the Luodian front and been transported back to the modern world.

After Zhu Cong carried him to the field hospital, the doctors had assessed his condition and declared that he had suffered severe internal injuries and was beyond saving. Yet, without any medication, Hu Biao’s body had shown steady improvement day by day, and after half a month, he was almost fully recovered. The only issue was that his body remained like that of a living corpse, unable to wake up.

Had it not been for the young Zhu Cong kneeling and begging the doctors and nurses, allowing him to keep lying in a corner of the hospital where they would check on him daily and feed him porridge, this body would have long been tossed out and starved to death. Of course, it wasn't that the medical staff were heartless; they were overwhelmed by a staggering number of wounded, and hospital beds were in desperate short supply. They simply lacked the time and ability to treat someone in such a persistent vegetative state.

During the forty-plus days of Hu Biao’s coma, the developments on the Songhu battlefield had unfolded exactly as he remembered from history in the modern world—nothing had changed. For instance, Luodian had long since fallen. Now that the Japanese army had landed, their spearhead had reached the Yunzaobin line in Shanghai. With five infantry divisions, supported by naval and air forces, their total strength exceeded 200,000, utilizing heavy equipment like aircraft, warships, heavy artillery, and tanks. To hold them back, the Nationalist Army had continuously pulled in reinforcements, bringing their total strength to 700,000. With both sides committing massive forces, the scale of the battles and casualties was even greater than at Luodian, which was precisely why the field hospital was so crowded.

The sheer volume of information provided by Zhu Cong left Hu Biao stunned. Observing this, Zhu Cong clearly misunderstood the situation. After a moment of hesitation, he spoke up weakly:

"Chief Hu, perhaps you shouldn't blame Division Commander Li Shushen for not sending reinforcements to our Special Service Company. There were no reinforcements available at the divisional headquarters at the time. Shortly after, Commander Li led his guard company into battle himself, lost an arm to a Japanese shell, and is still lying in another hospital. Our new commander for the 67th Division is named Huang Wei. They say he’s a high-achieving student who just returned from studying in Germany. I don't know if you've heard of him."

"I don't blame Commander Li; if I blame anyone, it's those godforsaken Japanese devils," Hu Biao replied.

As for this new Commander Huang, Hu Biao had certainly heard of him. He was to become a trusted subordinate of the Generalissimo, eventually leading one of the Nationalist Army's five main forces at the Huaihai Campaign, only to be captured and imprisoned until 1975...

***

After a bit more scattered small talk, it finally dawned on Zhu Cong that he should find a doctor to see if his superior was fully recovered. He rushed off excitedly, though he warned before leaving that the doctors were far too busy to come immediately.

This worked out well for Hu Biao, who used the time to look for his four comrades from the last battle: Zhou Kun, Zhang Wei, Gao Yi, and Wang Peng. Although only a month had passed, he was eager to see them and had much to say. To his disappointment, after circling the hospital, he found no trace of them. A sinking suspicion rose in his heart: could it be that any traveler who dies in this plane, or for some other reason, can never travel here again?

The thought filled him with regret. When they were together last time, they hadn't exchanged phone numbers or any social media contacts. With a country as vast as China in the modern world, what were the chances of ever meeting again?

Fortunately, the search wasn't entirely fruitless. Hu Biao discovered six individuals among the wounded who were clearly fellow travelers from the modern world. They were quite clever; upon arriving in this plane, they hadn't foolishly shouted or revealed their identities, instead doing their best to act normal. However, their modern traits were easy for Hu Biao to spot. It was impossible to tell what their professions were or if they were PLA veterans like Wang Peng who could quickly adapt to combat, but even so, Hu Biao chose not to approach them just yet.

The environment was too noisy for a proper conversation. More importantly, he knew that the mysterious force behind this would likely find a way to gather them all together soon enough. There was no need to rush.

As Hu Biao predicted, after waiting at least half an hour, a doctor who looked as if he had just stepped out of surgery gave him a cursory examination. Though surprised by Hu Biao's bizarre recovery, he was too busy to dwell on it. As he scribbled on a stamped document, he said:

"Second Lieutenant Hu, there is nothing wrong with your body. As for why you were in a coma for so long and suddenly woke up? Honestly, I have no idea. But that's not important. You're from the 67th Division, right? Your division is currently resting behind the Jiangqiao area, and they are in desperate need of men after the successive battles. I’m writing you a discharge and return-to-duty certificate; go back and report."

Hu Biao had no objections. The doctor remembered something else and added, "Oh! Wait at the hospital entrance for a moment. Seven other wounded soldiers from the 67th are being discharged today too. You can head back together."

"Seven? Who is the other traveler? I didn't even spot them—this person is a master of concealment," Hu Biao marveled to himself.

He soon had his answer. After twenty minutes of waiting at the gate with Zhu Cong, seven dejected-looking souls appeared. They wore the same miserable expressions Hu Biao and his group had worn when they first arrived. As he looked at them, he realized why he hadn't noticed the seventh person: it was an elderly woman, the type often seen dancing in public squares.

Hu Biao, having instinctively assumed all travelers were men, hadn't paid any attention to the women. He had nothing against "square-dance aunties"—after a lifetime of hard work, they deserved to enjoy their retirement—but this was the Songhu battlefield. Bringing a square-dance enthusiast here to participate? That was just absurd.