freenovelworld Chapter 1071 Every story has a reason.
Chapter 1071 Every story has a reason.
"Please take Vice Minister Qiu and his entourage to the designated room of the base's security department for temporary protection. They must not have any contact with the outside world until further instructions from higher authorities."
This time, no one dared to hesitate or object. The guards immediately stepped forward, their attitude still polite, but their actions were resolute. They grabbed Vice Minister Qiu from both sides, and Lao Qin and the others were also "escorted" by special personnel, not daring to utter a single word of resistance.
"Wait! I need to make a phone call! I need to report to my superiors!" Deputy Minister Qiu struggled and roared, his face as pale as paper, but this did not shake the guards' resolve in the slightest.
Director Zheng waved his hand, his expression remaining indifferent. He neither agreed nor refused, but simply watched coldly as Vice Minister Qiu and the others were taken away.
Only when the noise gradually faded away and completely disappeared into the night did Director Zheng slowly turn around, take a deep look at the few people left behind, and linger for a few seconds on the three men in plainclothes behind Director Chao. There was a hint of seriousness hidden in his eyes, but he said nothing and only sighed softly.
After a while, he withdrew his gaze, walked straight to Old Wang, and his tone suddenly became serious, losing its previous indifference and becoming more solemn, and his speech slowed down.
"I have an urgent mission, and I need to take Baoqiang with me. You..."
He paused, seemingly considering his words, his gaze sweeping over the armored vehicle and scattered file boxes in the distance before finally settling on Old Wang's face. His tone became more serious, carrying an almost entrusted meaning:
"Listen carefully. From now on, you must be extremely vigilant. Some vines may look dry, but they might not be clean underneath. The water might be muddier than it appears. Promise me you will take good care of Comrade Jiangxia. Don't leave his side for even a moment, understand?"
Old Wang paused for a moment, scratched his head, his face full of confusion, but still grinned and replied, "Don't worry, Director Zheng, with me here, no one will be able to lay a finger on Xiao Jiang! As for anything else, I don't know, and I don't want to know, just keep an eye on him!"
These words surprised Director Zheng.
Damn it, you're even more of a riddle-teller than me! Did you even understand what I was saying?
Unfortunately, Old Wang can't read minds; he can only stand perfectly straight.
Director Zheng could only assume that he was "astute"...
However, Director Zheng really couldn't say much about the specifics, since he wasn't directly involved in the execution of the "Scavenger" plan, though he had guessed some things.
However, without any evidence, it's impossible to openly state that the plan is showing signs of deviating from its course.
In the end, Director Zheng could only raise his hand and press hard on Old Wang's arm before leading Baoqiang and the Blackie's team to turn and walk quickly down another tree-lined path.
After taking seven or eight steps, he suddenly stopped.
"Oh, right."
Director Zheng turned his head, his expression obscured by the darkness, but his voice carried a rare, bright, barely suppressed chuckle:
"A resounding success—a complete success!"
He paused, then nodded slightly in the direction of Old Wang:
I wish you success as well.
After saying that, he didn't linger and quickly disappeared into the darkness deeper into the tree-lined path with Baoqiang and the Black Bay team. Their footsteps were soon drowned out by the sound of the waves.
Old Wang stood there, chewed on the phrase "I wish you success too," and suddenly grinned.
"Liu'er, let's go burn all those papers!" Old Wang pointed to the armored vehicle that had weathered some of the storms.
"Screw you, this is Xiao Jiang's record!"
"Fool! With Big Yellow and the internet, how could you, the head of the headquarters archives, not know about his situation?"
"Hey, I really forgot about that!"
Secretary Liu slapped his forehead: "Right, what was that about telling Jiangxia to withdraw from Beijing?"
"The old folks in the city miss him, don't they?"
"No! You wouldn't use the word 'evacuation' if you missed someone!"
Secretary Liu is quite literate and has a natural sensitivity to words, but you can't stand having a carefree old man like Lao Wang by his side.
"Don't think too much about it. By the way, that black book of yours is pretty cool. When you showed it to that old guy, his face turned green. When you go back to Beijing, could you get one for us too? It'll definitely impress people!"
"You're overthinking it. With your personality, if you had this thing, you'd cause a huge uproar! Besides, this little notebook is only useful if you recognize it. If you don't, it's no better than your oversized fire poker..."
Old Wang recalled how indifferent the guards were when Secretary Liu first showed them his notebook, and he gave up on the idea.
"That's right, if I don't have it, I don't have it. This gun is enough for me!"
Watching Old Wang enthusiastically collect all the papers from the armored vehicle, then disassemble the bullets to shake out the gunpowder, and finally fire a shot that set the papers ablaze.
Secretary Liu sighed: You've got a really big heart...
Why exactly did we use the "withdraw" option above?
Could it be...?
Well, although I don't know what Secretary Liu is thinking, this recall plan is definitely not what he imagined.
It can only be described as a small change caused by the flapping of Xiao Jiang's butterfly wings.
What's the reason?
Perhaps, maybe, it's related to the factory manager Zeng who, inspired by the naive kid, pierced through five pairs of wheels with an RPG.
Yes, that was just a trigger. The direct cause and effect still lies with our amazing weapon, the 107mm rocket!
Night fell in Darian. The fighting continued in the Phnom Penh direction, with the roar of gyroplanes sweeping across the Mekong River banks, providing support for the comrades advancing on the ground.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Indochina Peninsula, an attack that occurred almost simultaneously with the "divine intervention" in Phnom Penh has already stirred up a silent storm in more clandestine channels.
Bien Hoa, the gateway to the Mekong Delta, is one of the largest fighter-bomber bases of the White Eagle Army in South Vietnam. Three thousand kilometers of barbed wire and paved runways extend into the edge of the tropical jungle, where B-57s, A-1 air raiders, and the latest F-102s are parked in hangars. Searchlights on the watchtowers sweep across the area all night, but they miss the mixed forest just 800 meters away.
The People's Army soldiers in northern Vietnam did not carry heavy artillery carriages.
Each of them carried only one 107mm rocket. 18.8 kilograms, which is exactly the limit for a person to carry a heavy load on a long march in a tropical jungle.
The projectile was wrapped in coarse linen, with no metallic reflection and no sharp edges. From any angle, it looked like a bundle of firewood carried by a villager.
Half a wire, a few dry cell batteries, a small bag of nails, and the thin sheet of iron that comes standard with every rocket launcher at the factory—a makeshift shooting range.
This thing is as simple as a child's toy, but it is a proper military design. It fits into the groove at the tail of the missile and, together with the stamped marking line in the center of the missile and a pin, can form a targeting system.
These items bring together all the elements required for launch.
The soldiers did not build firing positions because they did not need to.
A rocket was gently placed on a raised tree root. A wooden board was placed under the tail of the rocket to adjust its elevation. A simple ruler was inserted into a groove, and a pin dipped in gunpowder was stuck to the mark, aimed at the row of black aircraft shadows bathed in searchlight.
One end of the wire was clamped to the conductive cap at the tail of the rocket, and the other end was inserted into the soft, wet soil as a grounding point. Another wire was connected to three dry cell batteries.
There were no observation posts. There was no fire control computer. There was no gun barrel, no recoil mechanism, no elevation or traverse mechanism, and no 6.5-ton steel gun carriage.
9:47 PM.
The wire connected to the battery gently touched the primer contact at the tail of the rocket.
The tail flame exploded in the darkness, a burst of orange-red, and the scorching blast ripped up fallen leaves. The 18.8-kilogram projectile, trailing white smoke, shot out of the bushes, its spinning stabilizing mechanism propelling it spun as it hurtled toward the dormant bunker eight kilometers away.
Bald Eagle, your grandpa's here!
The first explosion had barely begun when the second and third shots were already off their makeshift launch sites.
The soldiers emptied all the rockets in their backpacks in less than four minutes.
Then they packed up the wires and makeshift rulers, put the dry cell batteries back in their pockets, and turned to disappear into the jungle.
Behind them, the border base was turning into a sea of fire.
The explosion lasted for a full forty minutes.
A miracle happened.
While the People's Army of North Vietnam was still on its way back to its strongholds, and before the White Palace had received the news, our side used a secret channel that was rarely used but had recently become much more active to send a battle report to a place it shouldn't have been sent to.
The results were amazing!
Initially, the top brass of Beijing felt a sense of relief at the "students'" excellent tactical application and the sharpness of domestically produced weapons.
However, upon seeing the names appearing on the list of spoils, the initial relief was quickly replaced by a chilling sense of unease.
"Hiss, did we kill some lieutenant general called 'Walking' up north?"
"His name was Walker, and we didn't kill him. He was hit by a South Korean truck..."
"So, this guy with the long name in this battle report, are we sending him to meet the King of Hell?"
"...That doesn't count!"
"Hey, 107 doesn't even have any Russians! Why doesn't that count?"
"Because this is troublesome!"
"(⊙o⊙)..."