In the military camp, Zhang Tie's daily schedule was as precise as the gears of a Difference Engine. Just as he stepped down from the officers' quarters, the 46th Air Cavalry Regiment's six o'clock reveille had begun to sound. Under the dim glow of the camp's fluorite lamps, his orderly, Stone, came jogging over from the drill ground in time with the bugle call.
"Reporting..."
Zhang Tie glanced at Stone, nodded, and led him directly toward the training ground.
"You didn't go to sleep until after one last night?" Zhang Tie asked as they walked.
"Ah, how did you know, sir?" Stone scratched his head in surprise, looking at Zhang Tie with admiration and astonishment. "I saw no one was using the rolling rig at the training ground last night, so I practiced by myself for a while longer..."
Rolling-rig training was a fundamental skill for air cavalrymen. A qualified air cavalryman had to be able to roll on the rig for ten minutes and still remain clear-headed and steady on his feet after landing. That was difficult for ordinary people, but for a Battle Soldier above level three, they could quickly adapt to all sorts of movements on the rolling rig after training. Because Stone desperately wanted to become an air cavalryman, he seized every moment each night to secretly train on the rolling rig.
"Don't train past midnight. Young men like you must be asleep before twelve. Staying up late to train for long periods does too much damage to your body and drains its potential. If you want to train, get up early rather than stay up late..."
"Yes!" Stone committed Zhang Tie's words firmly to memory. To Stone, Zhang Tie's words were practically scripture—he would remember every sentence.
The two arrived at First Battalion's training ground.