The entire Xiao Cao battlefield had originally been expected to take a full day and night to fight through. Of course, it still was not over now, but the actual progress of the battle had been considerably faster.
Although Wang Yan was only a company commander and had not made decisions for the entire campaign, merely serving as an executor, he executed quickly. He could crack strongpoints, charge fiercely, and drive deep. He had cleared dozens of hidden bunkers, captured five hilltops, and repelled enemy reinforcements—all hard-fought assaults. He had provided quite a powerful push to the overall progress of the battlefield.
After all, one step ahead meant every step ahead. This was not a simple one-plus-one equation, but an exponential difference to some extent.
The main force of the 40th Division, aside from the artillery firing from the rear, had all crossed the river. Tanks, trucks, and the like rumbled across the pontoon bridges. Only scattered fighting remained nearby.
The soldiers had spread out widely. They were already transporting the wounded, clearing the battlefield, and beginning to eat.
The 118th Regiment, the main force that had taken part in the Xiao Cao battle, had begun resting as a whole. However, they remained widely dispersed to guard against artillery bombardment.
By now, the soldiers were all exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and they knew there would be no fighting for a while, the weariness from their day-and-night struggle finally crashed over them. Every time they ran, they had given it everything they had. Every bullet they fired had required their utmost focus. When they had hovered on the edge of death, it had felt thrilling in the heat of the moment; once clear-headed again, they felt fortunate to have survived.
Still, they had no regrets. Soldiers were meant to fight,