Canteen System Assistance Notes

"Then... what do you say we should do? Can't this disease be cured without quinine? Comrade Doctor, you can't let me watch my soldiers suffer in their hospital beds!

"Don't worry, Commander. Let me think of a way..."

The medical team leader tugged at his beard, pacing back and forth, lost in thought. Outside the quarantine area, everyone's eyes followed him, as if awaiting a verdict. "It's too cold now, and there's no Artemisia annua, Artemisia absinthium, or Artemisia odora..."

"Southeastern Shanxi doesn't have that much quinine reserves, and there aren't even many tonic waters..."

"Hmm..." He raised his fist. "Commander Han, let's send a telegram and ask Fushi to send some medicine!"

Team leader, it will take at least a month to get from the border area to Changzhi!" The young pathologist objected, "Distant water cannot quench immediate thirst. By the time the medicine arrives, will it be too late?" "Who said distant water cannot quench immediate thirst?"

The doctor smiled triumphantly and pointed to the sky. "Let's go by air."

Chapter 155: For the Three Hundred Soldiers

This doctor was a newly trained doctor in the base area. He had a relatively comprehensive knowledge system and clinical experience taught by words and deeds. He was young, enthusiastic, and radical. During his training in the border area, he practiced anatomy, suturing, and debridement in the bright and clean canteen training center, and practiced cross-country running in the training camp where he was guaranteed three hot meals.

Shooting and rescue, although sometimes they are just enough, but when the time comes

When studying at the university, we can use sufficient practice supplies and can match them with sufficient medical supplies, which is no worse than some domestic universities.

This was what made him different from the veteran doctors of the Eighth Route Army who had gone through the Long March: confidence and pride, which seemed innate to them. When faced with this kind of situation, "using air transport to quickly support medicines" was not something completely unthinkable to them.

Of course, this doesn't mean that performing an emergency airlift is easy.

How to quickly locate supplies, organize their transfer and centralization, and manage the numerous steps involved in delivery and receipt—these tasks cannot be accomplished by one person, or even a few individuals. Today, when you click the order button on a shopping app, a system operated by thousands of people springs into action, collectively completing the "simple act" of delivering a product from a seller thousands of miles away to the buyer.

In 1939, such an order "required an efficient leadership team, a workable command system, a large amount of material support, and most importantly: a group of intelligent, enthusiastic and determined executors working together to complete it.

However, saving the lives of their fellow soldiers was paramount. The telegram was quickly converted by the 389th Regiment's operators into matrix keystrokes, which were then transmitted via an automated radio. Once this dense signal reached its destination, it was like a spring being wound up and the accelerator being pressed, energizing the entire base's network.

"What do we need to prepare?"

"Quinine, antipyretics, preparing mannitol and winter-non-fermented mixture. Also, they need to prepare blood donations over there. They need to do peripheral blood smears to screen for infections and prepare Giemsa!"

Drugstore warehouses and hospital pharmacies were mobilized, led by Mr. Fu from Fushi Central Hospital. Everyone moved medications according to a long list. "Aspirin and antipyretic ice are in our own warehouse. Quinine, doxil, and Giemsa stain are all imported. Prepare the required quantities first, and then add 50% for mobile stock! Mannitol is in the secondary refining workshop. The order has been issued. Go pick it up!"

A human-powered conveyor belt was quickly set up, and the hospital's doctors, nurses, and soldiers who came to assist carried various medicines out of the warehouse and sorted them into different categories. "Where's the car?"

"The transport department said it had been dispatched five minutes ago!"

At the end of the road, a round, black and white head emerged, accompanied by two bright light poles. A mini truck with a Wuling logo rushed over, stopping at the hospital entrance with a long, screeching brake. This single truck, a product of the canteen delivery team, was the most advanced in the border region. Inside was the instructor from Fushe Driving School. He jumped out, scurried to the back, lowered the sideboard, and shouted, "Hello!"

"Doctor Fu! The truck is here! Comrades! Load it!"

—―――----

At that moment, at Yanhe Airport in the border region, Acting Air Force Commander Nie Heting, along with Lü Jixi, Chang Tiandi, and others, were nervously monitoring the situation by phone, examining a topographic map. The women, accustomed to charting the routes of Japanese aircraft, pulled out their red markers and traced the routes of the Eighth Route Army's own aircraft on the glass plate.

On the runway, two twin-engine aircraft had been pulled out of the hangar and were making final preparations for takeoff. They were two Anson trainer aircraft.

Serving as a multi-engine training aircraft for the Eighth Route Army, the British-origin "Faithful Anne" toiled diligently in the Far East, quietly training transport and bomber crews for the Eighth Route Army. Descended from a coastal patrol aircraft, it boasted a range exceeding 1000 kilometers, simple operation, and stable flight. While its payload capacity was somewhat limited, this mission wasn't about searching for German submarines in the North Sea, necessitating maximum range. At the expense of a slightly reduced fuel load, it could easily carry 200 kilograms of supplies throughout the entire flight.

Tang Lingyun was standing next to the plane waiting.

"Follow the Yan River to the Yellow River, then turn south, fly to Hukou, and then turn east. At the turning point, local team members will light a navigation mark for us." He held the route board, using the night light on the top to identify the planned route, and repeated it to several crew members, "Then turn on the radio navigation system and adjust the knob to the NAV band..."

"Do you remember everything?"

"remember!"

Comrades, let me add a few words. Tang Lingyun turned off the nightlights, folded up the flight path board, and seemed to be immersed in the shadow of the plane. "This is our first combat mission, and to avoid the eyes and ears of the Japanese, we must take off at night. You are all the best in training, the crew with the best instrument flying experience."

"But!" He clenched his fist and held up a finger. "This is a night flight! Night flight! Night flight!" "It's what the Soviet Union, Britain, the United States, and Germany all call a difficult night flight!"

Tang Lingyun spoke loudly, almost like a roar. "We can't see the ground beacons, can't tell the altitude, and can only use a little moonlight to vaguely distinguish the ground and sky. We can't even trust our intuition. What we see as sky and ground may actually be the reverse of ground and sky."

"This means that we have to grope forward in the dark and rely entirely on instruments for flying. If we are not careful, the plane will crash and everyone will die." He swallowed.

"I've flown a plane with a fully pressurized cabin, a German-made autopilot, and a German-made radio altimeter—that's state-of-the-art technology. Conventional wisdom says that without that, night flying wouldn't be possible," Tang Lingyun said with a hint of provocation. "But we have nothing. Logically, this is our first combat mission, and aside from me, most of our comrades have been trained as emergency pilots. Asking us to fly a night flight for our first actual combat mission is unreasonable, inappropriate, and a bit unreasonable."

But now! Now! Three hundred comrades, three hundred soldiers, are waiting for our medicine. They are suffering from malaria, shivering and shivering, and their lives are in danger. Before the ground supplies arrive, we are the only ones who can deliver them: we are their lifeline.

"Comrades, the Party and the people are counting on us. Do you have the confidence to complete the task?" "Yes!!!"

The crew of no more than ten people shouted loudly. This group of air force seeds selected from the best of the Eighth Route Army had now put their lives at risk. They stood up on the ground battlefield and volunteered to serve as the vanguard of the entire army or to cover the rearguard with fearlessness.

At that moment, the outskirts of the airport erupted in activity as a minivan, its lights on, rushed toward the landing pad. Ground crew members, pushing boxes of supplies for the airdrop, rushed to the designated loading and unloading point. They would pack the parachutes and supplies into the Anson's miniature bomb bay and connect the cables for the bomb release, completing the final preparations for takeoff.

On both sides of the 1500-meter runway at Yanhe Airport, bright white runway lights lit up one after another, like a bridge leading to the deep night sky.

“Get ready to board!”

Chapter 156: Running in the Dark Night

Night flying is a very difficult thing, but in a way it is not so difficult.

It is difficult because in the dark, pilots cannot easily rely on the terrain for navigation, cannot intuitively distinguish their own altitude, cannot distinguish the weather, and it is even more difficult to find their destination.

But to say it is not difficult is that there are ways to overcome these problems: with advanced ground equipment, airborne equipment and excellent skills of pilots, many excellent night flight records were born in World War II. In the later stages of the war, night has become an indispensable part of air combat, and the air forces of many major countries began to fight in all weather conditions.

The border region had already installed an ultra-shortwave signal station on a mountaintop near Fushe, responsible for guiding incoming aircraft. These radio antennas, supported by wooden frames, could provide approach guidance for aircraft within a range of approximately 50 kilometers, and vice versa for short-range guidance. Furthermore, the sky wasn't completely dark at this time; some moonlight still illuminated landmarks. Furthermore, weather conditions in North China in March were relatively unpredictable. After compiling the weather station data for the past few days, Tang Lingyun knew that tonight's weather would be perfectly suitable for flying.

So far, everything is in order.

"All crew members, prepare to enter level flight. Aircraft A will serve as the lead aircraft. Follow closely and maintain formation." Tang Duo picked up the microphone and instructed, "Fly along landmarks 00 to 04, heading 065-095-145-110, altitude 200. Pay attention to the ground navigation landmarks. Over."

"Unit-B, duly acknowledged. Over."

As a talent who received complete aviation training in the Soviet Union, Tang Lingyun was the undisputed flying king in the Eighth Route Army Air Force. He had the most solid basic skills, and night flight and instrument flying were his forte.

The Japanese army rarely used aviation at night. As someone involved in building the foundation of the air force, he was once puzzled as to why the Eighth Route Army's multi-engine crews were initially trained for night flight operations. However, upon observing the vast bases in North China, which were divided by railroad lines, everything became clear. Within these fragmented bases, nighttime infiltration flights could circumvent land blockades while maintaining normal ground transportation, enabling the urgent transport of personnel and supplies.

They are like a thin red line starting from Fushi, which can maintain the connection between various bases under the cover of night when the pulsating "blood vessels" on the ground are temporarily interrupted.

Now, whether this "red line" is strong and reliable, and whether it can work at a critical moment, is undergoing the dual test of physical laws and physiological limitations.

As the lights of Fushe Airport faded behind them, the twin Anson crews were lost in darkness. The long, white runway was gradually darkened due to the blackout. Outside the window, except for the faint moonlight, Tang Lingyun could see nothing.

Fortunately, not long after he flew along the route, he saw a flashing "T" sign.

This is the ground force, using a guide plate with semiconductor light strips to indicate the aircraft's direction. The direction from the far end of the T-bar's long axis to the short horizontal axis is the aircraft's required heading. "Aircraft A has sighted navigation landmark 01, turning to 095, maintaining altitude. Aircraft B, have you sighted the landmark? Over."

"Unit B has sighted navigation landmark 01 and will follow it to 095. Over."

Gently pushing the rudder, slightly increasing the throttle pressure, and pushing the tiller, Tang Lingyun maintained a stable altitude and completed the turn. Plane B lost a little altitude, but quickly followed the occasionally jumping navigation lights and caught up.

They disappeared into the night again, like eagles leaving their nest.

"B has sighted Landmark 05, turning to 090, altitude 2500. Turning off navigation lights, over."

The young voice of the B-unit crew came from the headset. Tang Lingyun took his hand off the headset and put it back on the throttle. He imagined that right below them was...

Because of the roaring Hukou Waterfall, oh no, at this time, Hukou,

There was probably still some ice on it, and the scenery was covered with icicles.

Here, they sighted the last navigational landmark and turned due east.

Hukou is the end of the area under our complete control. After a short section of the area under the jurisdiction of Laoxi, we enter the area controlled by the Japanese army. From here, the area is about 100 kilometers away.

The Japanese army will have an absolute advantage in the flight

Flying over enemy-occupied territory, without the ability to "swagger" with navigation lights on, is the most dangerous and difficult part of the voyage.

Tang Lingyun took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The oxygen mask, connected to the tank, emitted a slight hissing sound, completely inaudible amid the clamor of the cabin, yet revealing an unpleasant tranquility. At this moment, everything around him seemed to have vanished. The world seemed to have transformed into the inky black depths of the ocean floor, and the small R Anson was like a lone boat sailing through it, with no sight of the horizon or a way back.

A sense of loneliness washed over him. Tang Lingyun glanced out the window, instinctively trying to spot his wingman in the air, but unfortunately, he still saw nothing. The mountains and peaks of the surrounding mountains loomed in the silver moonlight, occasionally reflecting some of the moonlight. This gave him some comfort, and he felt that he was not flying in the void.

Well, it's like the sparse stars in the sky...the sky, the ground...which one is the ground?

Tang Lingyun was startled. He shook his head fiercely and forced himself to turn his gaze back to the cockpit, staring at the blue horizon, and resisting the dizziness that was emerging.

Gasping for air.

"Captain? Are you okay?"

The co-pilot looked at him a little uneasily.

"It's okay. We're not in the Arctic, nor at sea. Hallucinations can't bother me." Relying on the instrument indicators, Tang Lingyun slowly calmed down. "I'm fine. I'll be fine after a while." "Is it that inversion illusion?" Hearing this, the co-pilot also reacted. "Captain, we're not flying upside down. The flight attitude is normal."

"Yes. Remember this in the future. When you encounter a situation like this, when you can't tell the sky from the ground, you must trust the instruments. Your brain may make mistakes, and the instruments may make mistakes, but the probability of a machine's brain malfunctioning is much lower than that of a human brain." Tang Lingyun drove the illusion out of his head and returned to normal. "The instruments on British aircraft are relatively more comprehensive than those on Soviet aircraft, and both can serve as a basis for feeling.

"Even in the worst-case scenario, gravity won't go wrong," he thought for a moment, pointing to a small ball hanging in the cockpit. "When the attitude indicator breaks, you can use this ball." "So that's what this ball is used for," the co-pilot glanced at the ball hanging in the cockpit. "Did the captain learn this in the Soviet Union?"

"Well... sort of. Many Soviet planes have this ball on them."

Chapter 157 Night Airdrop

The Anson formation sailed through the night sky like curling stones gliding on black ice.

They were flying over the mountains and rivers of Shanxi Province. Thanks to the country's poor electrification, even in Pingyang City, where the Japanese army had no blackout, only a few tiny lights could be seen from the plane.

The radio direction guidance provided by the border area had long been invalid, and there was no way to use LED light strips as direction indicators in the Japanese-controlled area. During this 100-kilometer journey, plane A piloted by Tang Lingyun and plane B piloted by another crew had to rely on the traditional skills of World War II pilots for navigation.

Yes, it’s the navigation board!

This device, which is located on the pilot's thigh and has a pencil and a ruler, requires the pilot to draw lines along the average heading of the aircraft's route from the aircraft's starting point based on the estimated average speed multiplied by the flight time, as a way to position himself.

This type of manual inertial navigation is extremely inaccurate. Due to the discrepancy between airspeed and groundspeed, errors in average speed and timer timing, and the inability to accurately determine flight direction, the aircraft can deviate significantly over long distances. During the day, it's possible to calibrate using landmarks, but at night, the only option is full instrument flight, a "blind flight" to the destination.

Fortunately, as the Eighth Route Army's first night flight, the distance from Fushe to Changzi wasn't very long, so they could still fly. "Where are we now?"

Wearing an oxygen mask, Tang Lingyun's voice was a little muffled, but there was a mini microphone inside the mask that could transmit his voice to the navigator and bombardier sitting in the nose of the plane. "How long have we been flying?"

Thirty-five minutes later, the navigator was prone, so speaking was a bit difficult. "According to the airspeed," he glanced at the illuminated navigation board, "we should be 2 to 3 degrees west-northwest of Changzi, 60 kilometers from the designated airdrop zone, right over Anze County."

This was a generalized location; the surrounding fan-shaped area was where Anson might be. Not far from the target, Tang Lingyun nodded, found the switch on the onboard radio, and set it to the NAV band.

"Okay. Unit B, please take note. We are now establishing radio contact with the ground. Please maintain a visual search for landmarks. Over!" "Unit B received this. Mission accomplished. Over!"

"The stars are calling the Earth, the stars are calling the Earth, please answer if you receive it, please answer if you receive it." The co-pilot's voice was slightly nervous and uneasy, and was being broadcast to the surroundings along with the radio switching.

Tang Lingyun and the co-pilot began to call back and forth. On the pre-arranged frequency band, the speeding Night Walkers repeatedly called the 689th Regiment waiting on the ground. According to the plan implemented on the radio, they would light a triangular bonfire in the target area as the final target indication.

The range of voice communication of the British-made ultra-short wave station on the aircraft is 50 kilometers. For those flying at a speed of nearly 250 kilometers per hour, it only takes ten minutes to cross this last distance. They must obtain direct communication with the ground to ensure that they are not flying in the wrong place.

However, there was no response from the headset.

Tang Lingyun felt his heart was in his throat, but his duty as a pilot required him to remain absolutely calm.

"The stars are calling the earth again, the stars are calling the earth again, please answer if you receive it, please answer if you receive it." The voice of Unit B sounded in the headset, and they also joined the calling team.

There was still no response. There was only long white noise and occasional frequency-hopping glissando in the headphones.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes had passed. During that time, the two Ansons had silently flown nearly 20 kilometers in the darkness. Could it be that due to a route error, they had already overshot their target?

The crew stared out through the glass windows, their eyes wide open. Sadly, all they saw below was the pitch-black night and the mountains and rivers beneath the crescent moon. "Captain..."

"Keep calm and continue calling." Tang Lingyun pressed the call button on the microphone.

"The stars are calling the Earth for the third time. The stars are calling the Earth for the third time. Please answer. Please answer."

—-――—――—

The aircraft's position on the route board had already overlapped with the target. Tang Lingyun slowed the aircraft as much as possible, extending its flight time. If it were in the Soviet Union, the two aircraft would have disbanded their formation, centered around the current area, and gradually expanded their search along a spiral path. But could the pilots in the border region accomplish this? In the vast night sky, disbanding the formation would likely cause communication to be interrupted. Then, where would these young night-flying birds go?

But somewhere in this area, three hundred of his comrades were suffering from malaria. How much time did he have to waste? Should he do this?

Anson's 350-horsepower engine roared. Tang Lingyun's time was running out. His hand on the joystick clenched tightly, and he pressed the call button firmly. His mouth was dry as he spoke. The mixed gas in the oxygen cylinder had an unpleasant smell of rubber and sweat. How could he sweat so much in this cold air a thousand meters above the ground?

"The stars are calling the earth for the eighth time. The stars are calling the earth for the eighth time. Please answer if you receive it. Please answer if you receive it."

no answer.

He felt that there was a scale in front of him, and the hand of fate was maliciously placing two things that he both valued at the same time at both ends - the safety of the precious night flight crew that he had personally brought out, and the precious lives of 300 Eighth Route Army soldiers.

Choose one. It seems to be grinning, forcing you to make a choice.

Feelings of anxiety, uneasiness, self-blame and even anger were brewing. Tang Lingyun had no intention of making a decision in the forced "two-choice" environment. He just wanted to pull out his pistol, point it at the head of that damn god of fate, yell that Communists don't believe in gods and Buddhas, then shoot the guy's head to pieces and take both chips into his arms.

"The stars are calling the Earth for the twelfth time. The stars are calling the Earth for the twelfth time. Please answer if you receive it. Please answer if you receive it."

"The stars are calling the Earth for the thirty-third time. The stars are calling the Earth for the thirty-third time. Received... Please answer. Received... Please answer."

Still no answer, and 30 minutes had passed.

As the captain, he had to make a choice.

Tang Lingyun's hand loosened the call knob. He squinted his eyes and swallowed hard. The burden of human life weighed on him, making it hard for him to breathe. Now, he had to be responsible for the safety of the crew. Tang Lingyun reached for the switch of the recording radio, and like chewing on the coptis chinensis that he couldn't swallow, he issued a dry command: "B-unit, for the sake of our comrades, prepare to disband the group.

Tear -- squeak...