If formation training is a tornt for the undisciplined soldiers of Haftar's forces, then the military training by Jiang Feng and others makes these soldiers of the ard organization, who only have battlefield experience but no systematic military training, feel like they have entered hell.
On the shooting range, Jiang Feng held an AK-47 that he had just confiscated from a new recruit.
The barrel was filled with sand, the gun parts were rusted, and there was a strange sll of mixed oil and sweat.
"Is this the tool you rely on to live?" Jiang Feng's voice was cold as ice, "The gun is your life! If you can't even maintain your gun, going to the battlefield is just delivering equipnt to the enemy!"
He demonstrated personally: disassemble, clean, oil, assemble—the movents were quick as lightning, smooth and flawless.
Then, he ordered everyone to dismantle their weapons on the spot.
"Start the tir now. You must completely disassemble and reassemble your weapons within one minute! Don't think this requirent is harsh; in the place I used to serve, this was rely a passing grade for rookies!"
The scene was chaotic for a while, with parts scattered everywhere, and soone was so anxious that they were sweating profusely because they couldn't reassemble them.
Jiang Feng and the veterans moved among them, shouting harshly, teaching hand-in-hand, demanding that everyone must be able to dismantle and assemble blindfolded and that firearm maintenance must beco an instinct etched into their bones.
Shooting training was even more rigorous, abandoning the "belief shooting" commonly seen in the African ard forces.
They focused on details from the most basic gun-holding posture, breathing control, and alignnt.
Under the scorching sun, they held the gun and posed for half an hour, without moving even as sweat seeped into their eyes.
Live-fire shooting required first-shot hit, pursuing precision rather than spraying bullets.
Ammunition consumption was huge, but every bullet had to yield results. Failed to et the standards? Extra practice!
Until their hands shook unable to hold the gun, and their eyes were stung red by sweat.
The field was paved with sharp gravel and thorny cal grass.
"Low crawl! Move forward!"
On command, the recruits fell to the ground.
Their movents were diverse, so writhing like worms, so with raised hips, others howling from the pain of the stones.
Jiang Feng and the veterans patrolled the ranks with teaching rods in their hands.
"Lower your hips! Get close to the ground! Imagine bullets flying overhead! Move quickly! Stay concealed!"
The teaching rods lashed rcilessly on raised hips or protruding backs, accompanied by harsh shouts.
Low crawl, side crawl, rush forward, roll forward...
Each move had to be practiced in decomposition thousands of tis until muscle mory was ford.
The hardest part was not the training of basic tactical movents.
After all, these things could be forced out.
But tactical coordination, squad cooperation, and platoon, company collaboration, etc., were the most chaotic and deadly parts.
A simulated ruin and trench area.
A simple "squad attack" exercise—machine gun squad suppressing fire, rifle squad alternating cover rush, finally launching an assault.
After issuing orders, the scene was unbearable to watch.
The machine gunner just cared about firing happily without considering the position of his teammates; the rifle squad either rushed out in a swarm or hesitated.
Alternating cover?
No one rembered who to cover.
The result was that the 'enemy's' simulated rounds 'killed' a large section of the attacking squad.
Jiang Feng stopped the exercise with a cold expression and gathered everyone for another round of reprimanding.
"Look at yourselves! Like a bunch of headless flies! On the battlefield, charging like this is just handing the enemy free kills!"
He pulled out the squad leader, deputy squad leader, machine gunner, and riflen to explain the roles one by one, emphasizing observations, communication, fire coordination, and mutual cover.
Once not enough, then ten tis!
Ten tis not enough, then a hundred tis!
In the rciless 'death' judgnts and deafening roars from Jiang Feng and the veterans, soldiers began to vaguely understand the aning of the word "coordination".
The groups that failed in the exercise all had to face punishnt.
The punishnt was cruel—fully ard, carrying a log and running under the scorching sun until soone vomited and passed out.
The training plan was drawn up by Jiang Feng according to the intensity of a new recruit platoon in the PLA; even at night, it didn't an they would have a good sleep.
The temperature difference between day and night in the Gobi was large, with nights being bone-chillingly cold.
The ergency assembly whistle was like a death sentence that abruptly pierced the night sky at two in the morning.
Groggy soldiers rushed out of their tents like startled rabbits, clumsily dressing, grabbing equipnt, and assembling in the dark.
Those who were slow or made mistakes were pinned to the ground by razor-backed veterans, with cold sand shoved into their collars. Then there was a forced march carrying twenty kilograms for twenty kiloters, with no lights, guided only by the faint moonlight and a compass.
With uneven steps, people kept falling and dropping out. Jiang Feng and the veterans, like nocturnal wolves, shuttled back and forth in the ranks, urging harshly, roughly dragging those who lagged behind back up.
Upon reaching the destination, there was no rest; imdiate night live-fire shooting and tactical infiltration training awaited.
The use of low-light night vision goggles, target identification in the dark, fire control, silent movent—each was an extre test of willpower and nerves.
Physical training was a day-to-day tornt: ard cross-country, log sprints, mud combat, obstacle crossing...
The training ground resounding with labored breaths, painful groans, and the instructors' never-tiring roars.
High-intensity training was like a massive millstone, grinding down everyone's body and spirit.
Complaints, resistance, even small conflicts occurred from ti to ti.
By the third day, desertion had started appearing.
Jiang Feng's approach was simple and brutal: caught deserters were publicly expelled, stripped of all equipnt, given only a bottle of water, and then 'escorted' out of the base boundary by veterans, leaving them to aimlessly fend for themselves.
In the vast Gobi, this was almost equivalent to a death sentence.
After several tis, no one dared to ntion the word 'escape' again.
But relying solely on high pressure can't forge a real army.
Song Heping and Jiang Feng understood this well.
Every day after training, Jiang Feng would give a brief debriefing during the evening roll call.
He was generous in praising the group and individuals who made the fastest progress, even if it was just the proper execution of a small movent. Those who made progress would receive extra rest ti, better als, including chocolate or a bottle of beer, or even a small badge with the word "Musician" engraved on it, a badge for training excellence.
These seemingly trivial rewards beca beacons of light amid the brutal training.
The exemplary role of those battle-hardened rcenaries from "Musician" Defense was even more significant.
They ate, lived, and trained with the rookies, even with greater training volus.
Their silent resilience, precise actions, and seamless cooperation beca the goals that all the new recruits strived to reach.
"Beco like the instructors of 'Musician' Defense" beca an internal goal for many.
During this training camp, even General Haftar, who had publicly stated he would not review the training, would periodically appear at the edge of the training ground.
He said nothing, just watched silently.
But the soldiers knew, the General was watching them.
Song Heping would also appear at critical monts, his words were few, but they carried imnse weight: "Every drop of sweat you shed, every layer of skin that peels away, is to settle debts for brothers who died in Desert City! It's paving the way for you to return to Libya! Three months! Only three months! Do you want to go back in three months and continue to be chased around like stray dogs by Sayif's henchn? Or do you want to train until your body is as hard as iron and steel, go back with the General, reclaim your ho, and make those traitors and invaders pay the price in blood?!"
The flas of revenge and desire for their holand were the greatest motivators to endure this hellish ordeal.
The discipline of the entire unit was elevated to the highest supremacy.
Orders must be executed unconditionally, with no excuses.
Late by a second for assembly, penalty!
Disorder in quarters, penalty!
Slacking off during training, penalty!
Defying the instructors, severe punishnt!
Jiang Feng implented a collective punishnt system of "one person's mistake, the entire class punished."
This thod, though harsh, was extrely effective.
It could quickly turn dispersed individuals into a unified whole sharing honor and disgrace.
On the training ground, shouts, and sounds of corporal punishnt were constant, but it was under this high pressure that a new iron frawork called "discipline" began to take shape within these African soldiers.
The formations went from crooked to orderly, eyes from distracted to focused, actions from sluggish to swift.
They began to learn obedience, endurance, and to grit their teeth through pain.
Ti passed amid sweat and agony. Change quietly occurred.
The soldiers who once couldn't even clean their guns properly could, after fifteen days, disassemble, clean, and reassemble their weapons blindfolded with speed.
Rookies once tangled up like pretzels during crawling exercises could now pass quickly like snakes under barbed wire with low postures.
Once-chaotic squads during team drills could now smoothly perform fire suppression, alternate advancents, and flanking maneuvers based on the squad leader's gestures and commands.
The ti for assembling for night ergencies reduced from a chaotic ten minutes to under five minutes.
The performance in ard cross-country steadily improved.
The soldiers' eyes changed.
Gone was the initial bewildernt, impatience, and ferocity, replaced by a serene sharpness honed through hardship.
Under the dark skin, muscle lines began to bulge.
During marches, footfalls beca orderly and powerful, carrying a kind of oppressive presence.
They began to look like soldiers.
The tranquil days of over two months of training quietly passed by.
That day, as Song Heping stood on the training ground observing the troops' training, an unexpected situation arose.
"Boss!"
Collins hurried to Song Heping's side, whispered a few words, his expression grave.
Song Heping squinted slightly, looking towards the misty area where the Gobi and the horizon t.
Jiang Feng also noticed sothing amiss and ca over.
"Sayif's n?"
Song Heping asked Collins.
"More than that."
Collins' voice was low: "Our spies positioned at the border detected signs of activity possibly from Western Special Forces, very covert. There are also unidentified ard individuals roaming around the base periter, like scouts."
Song Heping nodded, showing no surprise.
The three-month training period hadn't finished, and trouble had already arrived.
The enemy wouldn't sit idly by and watch Hafter's forces be reborn.
He looked at the soldiers in the training field whose shouts shook the skies, sweating profusely, and then at Jiang Feng beside him.
"It's about ti."
Song Heping's voice was calm: "Even if we don't go after them, they will co for us. I think after more than two months of training, it's ti for our opponents to see what this hellish training for over two months has forged."
He turned to Jiang Feng, his orders clear and cold:
"Last week, increase the intensity! Increase the difficulty! Simulate battlefield environnt combat! Tell everyone, this is not a drill! It's a live-fire rehearsal! I want to see their valor! See if they can turn what they've learned into skills to kill the enemy!"
"Yes!" Jiang Feng's response was firm and resolute.
On the Darfur Gobi Desert, the final and most brutal tempering began.
Five thousand blades, initially showing their edge, were about to face the final honing before they were fully sharpened. And the winds of the Sahara had already brought the sll of slaughter from the approaching distant enemy.
The countdown to the bloody battle for the return to Libya ticked on.
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