Seeing Wang Yan stuffing himself with food and drink, responding with vague grunts, Luo Zhuoying finally put an end to the useless pleasantries.
"Wang Yan, we all know it—even the Chairman knows—that you resent being ordered to lead your men in a last stand at the airfield. But you need to consider the situation at the time. You know how it was: enemies on all sides, your lone force deep behind enemy lines, only seven hundred men. No one knew you were that capable. Holding the airfield to the death was the best option.
"We've been fighting Japan for so many years, and you've seen battle after battle, fighting from north to south. You should understand better than anyone that in many battles, we held our ground and never retreated."
"Commander Luo, don't say anything useless." Wang Yan shook his head. "Holding the line at home meant protecting the common people. At that lousy airfield, I was supposed to trade the lives of myself and seven hundred brothers so those foreign devils could stroll away in comfort? Tell me, does that sound right?
"Surrounded on all sides, yes, there was a good chance we couldn't have escaped alive. But if I led my brothers to fight and struggle, there was always a hope of surviving. That was better than waiting to die at the airfield. Give me something concrete. What rank is Old Chiang giving me? How many men? Whose command will I be under?"
"Wang Yan, you'd better watch your tone." Someone disliked Wang Yan's attitude.
Wang Yan gave a scornful laugh. "You tell me, why have we been losing battles all along? Because there are too many useless fools like this putting on airs. They've got no ability in a fight, yet they think having a little position