Hu Hao stood firm on his prediction: within two days, these survivors would be back on the front lines. The Regimental Commanders looked at him, searching for any sign of a joke.
“What, you think they’ll let us sit this out? Two days, tops. Start getting your gear ready,” Hu Hao warned.
“But look at all the reinforcements,” Li Jingsong countered. “The 25th Army is here, parts of the 28th have arrived, and two more armies are on the way. High Command ordered us to hold here for two months while the secondary lines are built in the rear. With this many fresh troops, surely they won’t need a battered division like ours?”
“Just wait and see,” Hu Hao said. “The sooner you prep, the better. And General—get maps. City maps, sewer diagrams, utility tunnels. Those will be our lifeblood in the coming days. Don’t ask me why; I don’t have time to explain the nuances of urban warfare to you. Just get them.”
“Alright. I’ll get on it. Anything else?” Li Jingsong asked, now deferring to the Captain.
“Stockpile food, water, and medicine. Don’t assume the hospitals will be open for ‘light’ wounds. They’ll be overflowing. We need to be able to patch ourselves up,” Hu Hao added.
“Understood. I’m going to Headquarters,” Li Jingsong said, nodding to the other officers. They knew that following Hu Hao’s advice was just extra work if he was wrong, but a death sentence if he was right and they ignored him.
While Li Jingsong went to pull strings for supplies, Hu Hao returned to the main bunker area.
“Hao-ge! You’re an officer now? That was fast!” a soldier shouted, noticing the Captain’s bars on his collar. The rest of the men looked up, murmuring.
“I didn’t ‘get’ promoted,” Hu Hao said dismissively, not wanting to breed resentment. “I’m a Royal Command Academy grad. I was already an officer before I got demoted for a mistake. This is just getting my old job back.”
“An Academy grad on the front lines?” the soldiers muttered in disbelief.
“Yeah. I turned a General’s grandson into a eunuch,” Hu Hao said with a sigh and a wave of his hand.
The bunker erupted in laughter.
“Alright, listen up!” Hu Hao barked, his voice echoing. “If you can move, you’re working. After dinner, we’re going out. Scavenge every scrap of food you can find. I want bottled water, crates of it. I want every pharmacy cleared of bandages, antiseptics, and painkillers. You got that?”
“Hao-ge, why? Won’t the Army supply us?” a Platoon Leader asked.
“Don’t rely on the Army! Did you forget the beach already? We look out for ourselves. Now move! Pile it up—this is how we stay alive!”
“Understood!” “You got it, Hao-ge!” The men didn’t hesitate. If Hu Hao said it was for survival, they believed him.
Hu Hao walked to the center of the bunker where Huan Xingtao and his squad had set up their straw mats.
“Hao-ge, congrats on the bars,” Huan Xingtao said, standing up.
“Forget the bars. Is the food ready?”
“Almost. You coming with us to scavenge?” Sima Xuankong asked.
“Yeah. Let’s move.”
For the next few hours, the men swirled through the city. They commandeered trucks and cleared out supermarkets. If a shop was abandoned, they took what they needed; if owners were present, they paid with the cash Hu Hao and others had. They weren’t looters—not yet.
Hu Hao returned with a small freight truck packed with supplies. The park near the bunker was now a chaotic parking lot of civilian vehicles.
“Get these empty cars out of here!” Hu Hao shouted as he jumped down. “You’re making a giant bullseye for the enemy air wing. If they see a hundred cars parked here, they’ll know the bunker is full. Move ’em to different streets! Don’t block the roads!”
“Move ’em! Hao-ge says they’re targets!” a Colonel shouted, relaying the order. The soldiers scrambled to disperse the vehicles, leaving them scattered blocks away.
By 9:00 PM, the bunker was packed with crates of water, food, and medical supplies. Li Jingsong returned shortly after with a military convoy. He looked for a group of soldiers to help unload, but the men simply walked past him into the bunker.
“Sir, you have to ask Hu Hao,” a Regimental Commander whispered to the embarrassed General. “They won’t move unless he says so.”
Li Jingsong sighed and entered the bunker. He found Hu Hao lying on a mat, head propped on a scavenged pillow, reading a geography book under a dim light.
“Hu Hao. The supplies are here. Ammo, rocket launchers, AP and HE rounds. I also got a few more APCs and fuel trucks,” Li Jingsong reported.
“Good. Why aren’t they inside?”
“Well…” Li Jingsong looked sheepish.
“Boys! Ammo’s here! Move it in!” Hu Hao shouted, standing up and leading the way. “And the APCs—hide them in the woods or drive them straight into the ground-floor shops. Pick buildings no higher than three stories; if they get hit and collapse, we might still be able to dig the armor out!”
“Let’s go! Load ’em up!” The soldiers surged past the General, following Hu Hao.
Once the gear was secured, the men tried to sleep. But as the silence of the night set in, the sounds of soft sobbing filled the bunker. Even some of Hu Hao’s squad were crying quietly.
Hu Hao rolled over and let out a long sigh. He knew the trauma was finally hitting them. In the heat of the fight and the rush of the escape, there was no time for grief. Now, in the dark, they remembered the friends they’d left on the sand and the families they might never see again. Communications were down; the city was under a total blackout.
Hu Hao eventually drifted into a restless sleep.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The massive vibrations jolted everyone awake. Hands flew to rifles instinctively.
“What was that?” “Is it the city?”
Hu Hao sat up. Light was filtering into the entrance—it was early morning. The thud of artillery was coming from the southwest. The Allies had caught up.
“Go back to sleep,” Hu Hao said, lying back down. “The Allies are at the outskirts. It’s not our turn yet.”
The men relaxed slightly, but no one could sleep. The fear was too sharp now.
“Hao-ge… do we really have to go back?” He Jizhong asked.
“You’re wearing the uniform and holding a rifle,” Hu Hao said without opening his eyes. “What do you think? It’s what we do.”
He sat up again at 6:00 AM, seeing the men sitting in a daze. “What’s wrong with you all? It’s barely past dawn. Get up!”
“Hao-ge, is it starting?” a soldier asked.
“Soldiers fight. It’s the way of the world. If you can’t sleep, go to the mess. Tell the cooks to start making steamed buns. Thousands of them. Freeze whatever we don’t eat immediately—use those refrigerators we brought back. We need portable food for when the kitchen gets blown to hell.”
“But the dough needs to rise, Hao-ge!”
“Then start it now! We need to be ready. Once the real fighting starts, we won’t have the luxury of a hot meal. Move!”
“I’m in! I know how to bake!” “Me too!” The men scrambled toward the makeshift kitchen, desperate for any task that would keep their minds off the thunder in the distance.