pappabearbooks Chapter 119: Bicycles, Motorcycles in Two Years
Chapter 119: Bicycles, Motorcycles in Two Years
The fifth item: a full-division mobile demonstration.
The most impressive scene then unfolded. Hundreds of "Flying Swallow" military bicycles emerged from the assembly area, each carrying a fully armed soldier. The wheels left neat tracks on the sand, and the convoy moved at a speed of 15 kilometers per hour.
"An entire division..." The Brazilian military attaché's eyes widened. "...all bicycles?"
"Not all of them," explained the officer accompanying Lan Fang. "Each infantry regiment is equipped with two hundred bicycles for rapid maneuver. If necessary, all personnel can ride on bicycles, covering eighty kilometers per day."
"Eighty kilometers..." the Argentine military attaché quickly calculated. "It's only three hundred kilometers from Buenos Aires to Rosario, and it will only take four days."
The convoy circled the field three times, then the soldiers disembarked, quickly spread out into skirmish lines, and moved into defensive positions. The entire process, from movement to deployment, took less than ten minutes.
"This mobility..." the Chilean military attaché murmured, "In the terrain of South America, with limited railways and terrible roads, a bicycle unit is simply..."
"A nightmare," his adjutant replied. "A nightmare for the enemy they want to pursue, and a nightmare for the enemy who wants to pursue them."
All demonstrations concluded at 10:00 AM. Military attachés from various countries were invited to tour the static equipment display area, where all the weapons used that day were displayed, with technical personnel providing explanations.
Zhou Afu stood beside his machine gun, answering questions about it. A German military attaché approached and asked in broken English:
"You designed this gun yourselves?"
"Yes, sir," Zhou Afu replied, standing at attention.
Who is the designer?
"It was our arsenal's engineering team. The president gave the design requirements, and they spent eight months completing the design and testing."
"Failure rate?"
"During live-fire testing, there was an average of one malfunction per 5,000 rounds. The main issue was with the drum magazine, which we are working on improving."
The German military attaché picked up the machine gun, weighed it in his hand, examined the sights, and inspected the bolt mechanism. His expression shifted from doubt to seriousness, and finally to admiration.
"Great design," he said. "Much lighter than our MG08, much more suitable for infantry to carry. May I take a picture?"
"Yes, but it cannot be disassembled."
The German military attaché took a picture and quickly jotted it down in his notebook. Zhou Afu watched as he wrote a line of German, which he didn't recognize, but guessed was a compliment to the gun.
Meanwhile, the British military attaché was inquiring about the technical details of the "Wind-1" radio. The person in charge of explaining was a young female engineer—which was extremely rare at the time.
What is the frequency range?
"1.5 to 12 MHz, sir."
"power?"
"Transmit power 15 watts, receive sensitivity 0.5 microvolts."
"Where's the battery?"
"The lead-acid battery weighs four kilograms and can support eight hours of continuous operation. We have a matching solar charging panel that can fully charge it in six hours on a sunny day."
The British military attaché's eyes widened: "Solar...charging?"
"Yes," the female engineer said, pointing to a black panel next to her. "This is a silicon photovoltaic panel, which we developed ourselves. Although its efficiency is not high yet, it is very useful in desert areas."
"Incredible..." the military officer murmured, "You can even build this..."
The visit lasted until 1 p.m. At the end, Chen Feng gave a brief concluding speech:
"What you see today is not Lanfang's final strength, but a starting point. We believe that national defense modernization must be built on an independent industrial foundation. We are willing to share our experience with all friendly countries, but core technologies and capabilities must be in our own hands."
He paused:
"Because history tells us that weapons given to us by others can never protect our homeland."
Applause broke out. Not enthusiastic, but earnest. When the military attachés from various countries applauded, their eyes no longer held disdain or curiosity, but rather a direct confrontation—a direct confrontation with a suddenly rising military power.
During lunch, Zhou Afu and his comrades sat in the soldiers' mess hall and could feel the change in atmosphere. The waiters who brought the food looked at them with respect, their hands stopped shaking when serving the dishes, and they gave extra meat.
"Ah Fu," Li Wen said while gnawing on a chicken leg, "Did you see the expressions on those foreigners' faces? At first, it was 'Let's come and see what's going on,' then it was 'This thing is interesting,' and now it's 'We need to study this seriously.'"
"I saw it." Zhou Afu shoveled rice into his mouth. "The squad leader said we didn't embarrass Lanfang today."
"We didn't just avoid losing face, we actually gained face." Squad Leader Wang Tiezhu sat down with his meal tray. "I just went to deliver equipment and overheard two Germans talking. One said, 'This unit's equipment level has surpassed that of European countries.' The other said, 'It's not just the equipment, look at their training level, discipline, tactical skills...'"
The squad leader took a sip of soup:
"They said that if this force were given three years, it could defeat the Dutch garrison throughout the East Indies."
Zhou Afu put down his chopsticks: "Really?"
"What foreigners say may not be accurate," the squad leader said, "but at least it shows that we're training in the right direction."
After lunch, the soldiers returned to their barracks to rest. There would be regular training in the afternoon, but it would be less intense.
Zhou Afu lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The sound of sporadic gunfire drifted from a distant firing range outside the window; it was other units training.
He recalled a sentence that Commander-in-Chief Chen Feng said when he walked to the front of the soldiers' formation at the end of the demonstration:
"What you've demonstrated today isn't killing skills, but the ability to defend our country. Lanfang's gun will never be pointed at innocent people. But if anyone tries to take our homes, tries to harm our loved ones—"
Chen Feng paused for a moment, his voice carrying far:
"Then the guns in your hands should make them understand what the price is."
Zhou Afu clenched his fist.
He will make anyone who tries to hurt his mother and sister understand the consequences.
for sure.
November 6, 1910, 8:00 AM.
Chen Feng's convoy entered the training base without prior notice. The guards at the gate recognized the license plates and immediately saluted to let them through, but they didn't have time to inform anyone inside.
The car drove directly to the training ground of the Third Regiment. When Chen Feng got out of the car, Regiment Commander Zhao Dashan was leading the troops in morning exercises. When he saw the commander-in-chief arrive, he was stunned for a moment, and then quickly ran over.
"Commander-in-Chief, what's wrong...?"
"Just passing by, taking a look." Chen Feng waved his hand. "Keep training, you don't need to come with me."
But Zhao Dashan still stayed by his side. Chen Feng walked slowly across the training ground, watching the soldiers practice bayonet fighting, crawling, and tactical coordination. Sweat left dark marks on the sand, and the slogans were shouted in unison and with great force.
"That soldier," Chen Feng pointed to a young soldier in the distance who was lying on the ground practicing aiming, "how long has he been practicing?"
"Zhou Afu, a machine gunner, has been in the army for four months," Zhao Dashan said. "He's doing very well; he was the one firing the machine gun in the last demonstration."
"Call him over."
When Zhou Afu was called over, he was covered in dirt and had sweat on his face. He ran to a spot five meters in front of Chen Feng, stood at attention, and saluted, his movements precise but slightly stiff.
"Commander-in-Chief!"
"Relax," Chen Feng smiled. "I heard you're good with a machine gun?"
"Reporting to the President, I'm still learning."
Have you had lunch today?
Zhou Afu paused for a moment: "Not yet... We didn't eat breakfast until 10 a.m. during training this morning."
Chen Feng glanced at his watch: "That's perfect, I haven't eaten either. Commander Zhao, I'm having lunch with the soldiers of the Third Regiment today."
"This... Your Excellency, the dining hall conditions are rather poor..."
"If the soldiers can eat it, I can eat it too." Chen Feng patted Zhao Dashan on the shoulder. "Let's go, lead the way."
The Third Regiment's mess hall was a large tent with dozens of long tables and benches inside. The soldiers were queuing up for food when they saw the commander-in-chief enter, and they were all stunned, causing a brief commotion in the queue.
"Keep going, go do what you're supposed to do." Chen Feng walked to the end of the line. "I'm a soldier too, I'm lining up for food."
Zhou Afu stood behind him, his palms sweating with nervousness. The comrades in front of him had finished getting their food; it was Chen Feng's turn. The cook, an old soldier, was serving the food; his hands were trembling.
"Master, just cook it normally." Chen Feng handed over the lunchbox.
Stewed beef with potatoes, stir-fried greens, two cornbread buns, and a bowl of egg drop soup. Just like the soldiers.
Chen Feng, carrying his lunchbox, walked over to Zhou Afu's table and sat down. The soldiers at the table immediately stood up.
"Sit down, everyone sit down," Chen Feng gestured. "There are no superiors or subordinates at mealtimes; we're all comrades."
The soldiers sat down nervously. Zhou Afu secretly glanced at Chen Feng's lunchbox—it was indeed the same, with no more meat and no less vegetables.
"How does it taste?" Chen Feng took a bite of the steamed bun.
"It's...delicious," a soldier whispered.
"How does it compare to your hometown?"
"It's much better than my hometown," Zhou Afu said, mustering his courage. "In Chaozhou, we can only eat meat during the Lunar New Year. Here, we have it every day."
Chen Feng nodded and ate his meal slowly. He ate carefully, breaking the cornbread into small pieces, eating the vegetables bite by bite, and sipping the soup slowly. Unlike some officials who were perfunctory, he was genuinely savoring his food.
"Zhou Afu," he suddenly asked, "who else is in your family?"
"Mother and younger sister. In Chaozhou."
"Would you like to take it?"
"I do. Once I've served my five-year term and been allocated a house, I'll bring them here."
"Five years..." Chen Feng put down his chopsticks. "That's too long, Commander Zhao."
"exist."
"How is our 'military dependents resettlement plan' progressing?"