Chapter 104: The Recapture of Tianjin (9)

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General Qin’s forces still had a survivor contingent, even more disorganized than General Yue’s, and no new military actions had been launched. Later, their original plan was modified by Li Qiang’s forward command staff to initiate the Tianjin cleansing campaign. Li Fengyi thought to himself that it was quite fortunate everyone had been recklessly pushing forward since the apocalypse without being wiped out by zombies.

“I won’t say much about the current situation,” Li Fengyi said sincerely to the two generals, “but would you be willing to take up positions in the Armed Forces Department’s General Staff? The young men lack substantial military operational experience and need your leadership and planning.”

Commander Liu sensed Li Fengyi’s difficulty and quickly arranged, “Xiao Yue has served two more years; let him be Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces Department’s General Staff. General Qin can serve as Deputy Chief of Staff, coordinating with the original army staffs and providing guidance. We are all soldiers and must continue to fight under the Party’s leadership to eradicate the zombies!”

The new plan was continuously sent from the Armed Forces Department’s General Staff to the forward command staff. Li Qiang ordered new plans based on the battlefield situation.

Stockpiled weapons and ammunition were no longer sent to the front lines but began to be deployed along a new defensive line north of the Ziya River.

However, there were far fewer experienced soldiers now; most were engaged in fierce combat on the northern side of the Ziya River with zombies.

The military academy trainees who had rotated recently were all unfamiliarly handling weapons that had been strange to these civilians just months before. They had only briefly studied theoretical knowledge and had operated these weapons during the day under the guidance of the Ziya River soldiers. At night, to keep roads clear and avoid congestion, they withdrew to the rear.

Following new orders, these trainees were no longer required to rotate but stationed directly along the new defensive line.

Professionals made all the difference.

The Armed Forces Department’s General Staff requested hydrological, geological, and road traffic data for designated regions, obtained information on existing transport vehicles and armories, and even secured personnel status reports from the Organization Department.

The first system to be activated was the command system. “In fact, we had already achieved an informationized force,” Chief of Staff Yue observed wryly, seeing the current troops mixing cold weapons with firearms, radios, loudspeakers, whistles, and red flags.

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Most survivors were military illiterates. They had heard of digitalized forces but had no practical concept. Even with equipment, they wouldn’t know how to use it without some time to explore, much less integrate various devices on a large scale. Such skills far exceeded what ordinary civilians should master.

There were fewer than 10,000 professional soldiers in the mountainous region. Since survival was primarily military, they were scattered across various officer positions within the Special Committee, and the original command system had been disrupted—partly deliberately, as the Committee did not want any clumping of power. After thousands of years of ancestral political tactics, even highly educated people instinctively understood such maneuvers.

The new functional system was so hastily organized that it was only capable of sending troops into battle with ammunition and sufficient food and water; communication support and other functions were extremely weak.

Yet Chief of Staff Yue and Deputy Chief Qin said nothing; this was as expected, since their rise had been rapid but their battle record was brilliant.

The command was divided into two levels: the forward command and the rear general command. Chief Yue and Deputy Chief Qin tracked down all communication support personnel scattered in corners, demanding the Armed Forces Department immediately issue orders to collect and organize communication equipment from wherever needed and rush them to the two command centers to activate communication systems at once.

As each wall-mounted large screen in the General Staff lit up, the frontline situation was vividly displayed from multiple angles.

“We had already reached the point before the apocalypse where every soldier’s video and audio could be transmitted to headquarters, allowing command to direct each individual soldier and coordinate fire support within the system,” Deputy Chief of Staff Yue said proudly of years of effort.

Li Qiang at the frontline command saw the same scene. Having been a tank commander, he was used to receiving orders through a headset. Though he had seen various systems, the number of professional soldiers was scarce. After the forces united, there were enough troops, but the ex-tank commander was accustomed to advancing in well-ordered lines—a habit spoiled by the military illiterates in the Special Committee.

All materials, personnel, vehicles, hydrological and geographical information were displayed on corresponding large screens, clearly showing total quantities, consumption rates, transport figures, and the status and location of supplies.

Li Fengyi quietly slipped his hand into his pocket and tore up the paper list recording logistical supplies. Despite all the talk about digitalized forces, when it came down to it, they still didn’t know how to use them.

Without prior experience, it was impossible to instantly operate equipment right out of the box.

Inter-device coordination was difficult enough. Even Sun Xiaogang, who was so familiar with electronics, couldn’t get the headquarters and East Dam’s encrypted communications to work properly.

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Usually, long planning was required before a major battle, but now there was none. Loudspeakers were installed all over Beijing by the Ministry of Industry, broadcasting various orders to units and even individuals, who were expected to deploy immediately upon assignment.

There was no time for rest, assembly, or preparation. Often, a unit’s vanguard reached the position while the rest were still handing over duties at various posts. Dedicated transport teams delivered materials to designated locations. Troops set off empty-handed in any available civilian vehicles, even riding electric bikes.

All movements were displayed in real-time on the big screens, crystal clear.

With no time for review, fighters were killed by zombies every moment at Li Qiang’s command post, and ammunition consumption was severe.

Flaws discovered were coordinated in the next round of planning, often resulting in changes of advance routes en route.

Road traffic had been strictly controlled since the outbreak, greatly facilitating operations. Thus, Chief Yue and Deputy Chief Qin acknowledged the Special Committee’s ability to develop to this point was indeed impressive, at least in decisiveness and efficiency.

At every moment, zombies fiercely grappled armored soldiers, blood oozing through chainmail. Roars from zombies mixed with soldiers’ orders being shouted and acknowledged. No soldier screams were heard, as they knew that would only enrage the zombies further.

These video and audio feeds vividly portrayed the battlefield’s danger. Li Fengyi saw Chief Yue and Deputy Qin’s faces pale and breathing rapid, wondering if these two had ever actually been on the front line—they always topped exercises.

They had sent people to rescue during the apocalypse’s onset and had some experience, but even today they still couldn’t adapt. Li Fengyi shook his head silently; real soldiers needed to have seen blood to truly be soldiers.

Watching coldly from the sidelines, a professional’s touch was unmistakable. Li Fengyi continuously reviewed one order after another, signing and immediately arranging for their execution.